September Rain Bk 2, Savor The Days Series (34 page)

Damn, Angel had it so bad for him. It
worried me because that girl worked herself up over everything.
Perfect example: that first show at The Mystic Muse, when those two
first hooked up. Jake showed some interest and a little kindness;
Angel overreacted and slept with him. He asked for marriage and she
couldn’t wait to drop her life and leave school.

I made mistakes, too. For one, I
forgot to remember that Angel isn’t normal. That sounds bad. She
was normal—yeah, Angel totally was. But also, well, she kind of
wasn’t. Really, never has been. She’s always been kind of needy and
dependant. Not that that’s a bad thing—so long as she’s careful
about who she leans on. I didn’t say the right things when Angel
told me Jake wanted to bang her. I pushed my friend into it,
figuring a good rub down might do her some good. The way Jake
carried himself I knew he’d be good. I stood in the background and
watched Angel do her thing because I loved her more than anyone. I
loved her too-tender heart and super-thin skin that sometimes
seemed stretched over a vacuum. Angel was too vulnerable and it
sucked people in. They sensed how ready and capable she was of
loving so completely that she completely blinded herself to any of
their faults. People like Jake were totally not worthy of her level
of commitment. I didn’t deserve it either, but at least I was
looking out for her best interests. Feeling responsible for her
like I do made it necessary to take a step back when Angel was
around Jake. I didn’t want to control her, but the more I thought
over the naïve choices she was making, the more I realized I
couldn’t just watch.

I needed to know what was going on
inside that room. Did they talk? It seemed that Jake was acting
strange since his surprise at the concert. Maybe Angel told him
she’d changed her mind. Why else would they look so weighed down
when they walked from the bands motel room back to the one I wanted
to be inside of right now?

I sat by the pool in the dark, passing
my fingers over the water, watching the ripples bend the moonlight,
waiting for the window to open.

+ + +

37

—Angel

The morning came before sleep did. All
night long I tossed and turned, arrested by Jake and remembering
his words. He had such a way with them. I’ve read hundreds, maybe
thousands, of books and none of the characters ever talked like
Jake. None of them ever could because there was only one of him and
he doesn’t live in this world anymore.

But I’m on my way to find him.
Wherever he is, I will get to him. I will be with him
again.

+++

I was thankful when the review
committee sent for me early.

When I get back into the interview
room, Tight Bun Tara and Quiet Darren are already there with my
lawyer, as expected. I roll my eyes at the coincidence of all three
wearing gray coats.

The three appear to be in conversation
when I’m brought in, but stop whatever they’re saying and begin
doling out the obligatory morning pleasantries. How did I sleep?
Did I eat breakfast? Have I had my meds already?

“How do you feel?” My lawyer
asks.

“Fine.” I mutter, even though every
muscle in my body feels sore.

And then jump back in time . . . my
soul aching as I speak the words. “Jakes bad feeling was contagious
. . .”

+++

I awoke the next morning with a
heaviness settled over my chest. It felt like a hangover, only I
hadn’t been drinking. I slept, but could not recall falling asleep.
I laid in bed for a few minutes, feeling the empty sheets beside
me, wondering where Jake had gone and how long ago.

Aerosmith played from the
radio as I washed in my tepid shower. Steven Tyler sang,
“Tell me what it takes to let you go,”
and I wanted to reach out for the radio and break
the damn thing, but with my luck, I’d slip on the smooth bathroom
floor and crack my head open.

As I ran the conditioner through my
hair a pair of hands suddenly gripped my waist. The one thing that
kept me from screeching was the sight of Jakes wet face when I
whirled around. He was too good at sneaking up on me.

Breath
whooshed
into my lungs. “Jake! You
scared me.”

His brows pulled together. “I’m
checking on you. You were kicking so much I barely slept, so I know
you couldn’t have.”

With that, he released me and adjusted
the shower head so the water hit us both. He hummed, taking the
bottle of shampoo and squirting a dollop on my head. The bottle
made a gross noise and we both chuckled. I was already done
washing, but let him rewash and condition my hair. My blood heated
as he caressed me with his soapy hands. I wantonly pressed my back
against his chest, but he didn’t take the next step. I turned to
face him as he stared at me, water pouring down his face. He looked
so sad.

“Are you alright?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” I wrapped my arms around him
and set my head on his bare chest. The spray from the shower beat
down on us.

“Let’s get out.”

Jake was pensive, sitting on the
counter, watching me blow dry my hair. When I finished, I decided
to make use of the silence. “Where did you go?”

“To get clean clothes.” He hopped from
his post on the sink top and ran his fingers through my hair.
“We’re pushing out.” He set a paper in my hand. “Motel address.
Meet us there.”

“I hoped to be riding with
you.”

He caressed my cheek with the back of
his fingers. His reserved gaze held an air of something I could not
identify. “There’s so much shit in the van, I’m riding with the
guys from Proselytes. But I’ll see you when you get to the motel.
We’ll bunk up tonight, too.”

I felt my face light up.

“I can’t stay away from your skin,” he
ran his nose along my neck, caressing my jaw with his scruffy one.
“Angel,” he groaned in a rough whisper that sent shivers through
me. “I love you.”

“Jake, I want to ride with
you.”

“Oh, I bet you would love that,” he
teased, “but we have an interview to get to and you’re not ready.”
He stepped away from me, holding both my hands as his eyes pointed
to the towel I was still wrapped in. “It’s going to be a few hours
before I get back to the motel, anyways. Take your time. I’ve got
some meetings and promotion shit.”

Whatever had been bothering him the
previous night was still an issue, I could feel it. I couldn’t
think of a way to broach the subject, so my response came without
words. Jakes’ eyes widened as I threw my towel on the
floor.

“Well,” a wicked grin stretched his
face. He ran a hand down my rib cage, making my skin tingle. “Why
didn’t you say so in the first place? There might’ve been time for
foreplay.”

My fingers grasped for his hair that
had been shorn away. “I demand foreplay.”

“I only got, like, five minutes.” Jake
bit his bottom lip and then attacked me with greedy, lingering
kisses and expert, groping hands. He played me like his favorite
instrument; with familiarity and fervor.

It was over too quickly.
From start to finish, he was on me in a heartbeat and then he was
getting dressed again. Jake was never a quickie-type of lover. He
liked to take his time, so the fast encounter, though satisfying,
felt very
wham-bam
.

“I’m working on something.” Jake
fussed with the buttons of his fly, pushing my hands away when I
went behind him, trying to unbutton him. “A surprise.”

“Is it good?” I smiled, though I saw
the stress behind his eyes.

“Baby, it’s me. Of course it’s good.”
I rolled my eyes at the way he cockily tilted his head. Jake
attacked me once again, pressing my lips apart with his, sucking
and biting at my bottom lip in one fluid motion. I shamelessly
moaned as one of his glorious hands clamped around my neck while
the other smacked my backside.

And then, nothing. I opened my eyes to
catch him running out the bathroom door.

His scent lingered, but I was alone.
Empty without him. But I had to suck it up because this was the
tour. It was his work, not a vacation and I was not going to get my
way all the time. If things went like I wanted, Jake and I would
have made love through the day, left for the gig when we felt like
it, and that guitarist chick, that wannabe band chick, would have
been lost in the desert, never to be heard from again.

I had to follow along, play
the game. I wasn’t going to worry about how Jake seemed to be
pushing me away on the day the band was meeting up with that girl.
I was not going to wonder why Jake didn’t want to ride with me in
our car. I would not let the presence of some random girl turn me
into one of those petty, jealous bitches. It was my insecurities—my
issues—that made it seem like there was a chasm growing between
Jake and I. It wasn’t really there. At least, that’s what I told
myself every time those words repeated:
“Not yet.”

Brushing my hair, I
couldn’t help but see his exit as running off and shuddered at
those two cursed words.
He doesn’t want
her. Not yet . . .
No. Jake has his
reasons, I told myself. Those meetings he mentioned had to be very
important.

Avery was just waking up when I opened
the front blinds. The van was already gone. I started sifting
through the room to pack.

“Didn’t go so good with Jake, huh?”
Though she’d just woken up, her voice sounded smooth.

“It’s fine. I was going to let you
sleep.”

“Who can sleep with Jakes loud mouth
running? Jeez, he’s a performer—everything with him is so
theatrical.” She sat up, stretching.

I stopped packing. “What do you mean,
‘theatrical’?”

“Dude. I totally heard him.” She
stared unabashed, “I didn’t know you were into dirty
talk.”

My face went tomato red.

“I had to sleep somewhere. Scratch
that, try to sleep somewhere.” She hopped from the bed, fully
clothed. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Don’t you want to shower?”

“After we get there. First, we got to
check-in and track down that chick that’s giving Jake so much
trouble.”

“What is his deal?” I muttered,
anxious to change the subject, but still bothered by Jake’s overt
aversion to Band Chick. “Since when did I become the stable one in
this relationship?”

Avery laughed. “Times, they are
a-changing.”

Jake occupied most of my conversation
on the short trip to Glendale. The late sun was beating on my arm
in the passenger seat as I blathered on about how he was confusing
me. Yes, he wanted to marry me, but that didn’t tell me his central
concern; why was he allowing this chick in his band if it stressed
him out so much? If he was so very sure it was a bad idea, why
didn’t he just put his foot down? They would be with a label one
way or another and could hire a studio musician, or hold more
auditions in L.A. They didn’t need that chick or her San Diego
style.

Avery just drove and listened, and
barely spoke herself, except to offer the occasional sound of
agreement. I waited in the car while she checked us in. The whole
time, I was scanning the lot, looking for their van, but it was
useless. They were heading straight to the Brick Lounge.

My mind was covered in a
haze of concern.
Was she with them
already?

I barely noticed we ended up in a room
at the back of the motel or that Avery nearly hit a motorcycle
trying to park. I did notice how small and plain our room was. Most
of the limited space was taken up by two full size beds. But it had
a decent air conditioner and a good-size bathroom. The cool air of
the dark room hit me and I plopped the bags onto the floor and
folded myself onto the bed, totally exhausted.

Avery hooted that she’d found the
coffee machine and started a pot.

“You nap. I’ll shower.”

“Wake me up before you go-go.” I
mumbled and fell into rest.

+++

I woke up in front of the bathroom
mirror, soaking wet, naked, and holding a lock of hair under my
nose, as if to sniff. It smelled like soap. My breath came short
and quick as I looked around the steamy bathroom.

“Avery!”

She opened the door enough to peek
inside. A line of concern at my panicked tone crossed her forehead.
“What’s wrong?”

I squeezed my eyes shut to clear away
the pooling tears. “I w-woke up in here.” My hands felt numb and I
gave them both a limp-wristed shake.

Her head tilted to one side. “No,
Angel. I woke you up about twenty minutes ago and you walked in
here. You don’t remember?”

I shook my head. “Did I say
anything?”

“You yawned a lot, said you needed a
hot shower. Don’t overreact. You just need coffee, that’s all. I’ll
get some.” Her face disappeared from the half-open
doorway.

“But I already had a shower.” I
mumbled to the empty room.

Examining myself in the mirror, my
gaze wandered down to the sink. My prescription bottles were set
out. A small pile of pills lay on the counter. I grabbed the water
glass from the sink and filled it, then swallowed down my meds. I
should have taken them when I first woke up.