The Mighty Storm (29 page)

But deep down I know I can
’
t tell her. I
’
ve betrayed Will enough already as it is.

“
No,” she concludes. “It just goes on about you being his biographer … oh and the magazine is mentioned!” she squeals. “Um … well it just says you work here,” she quickly adds, recovering herself. “Okay, there
’
s the dancing together in the club … that Jake
’
s eyes were on you all night and no one else according to onlookers…”
They were?
“
That he seemed really into you…”
He did?
“
Showed absolutely no interest in anyone else whatsoever, and that you left the club together and went back to the hotel, and it finishes saying that maybe you
’
re the one to finally tame Jake.”

The one? They think I
’
m the one to tame Jake?

Not bloody likely. I don
’
t think Jake is tameable.

Then his words from last night play in my ears,
‘
It
’
s always been you, Tru. Always.
’

“
Tru, are you still there?”

“
Um … yes, sorry, I
’
m here.”

“
Look this is fine,” Vicky impresses. “No press is bad press, remember, my darling. The media interest in you will quickly die down, and then you can get back to concentrating on the bio. If anything it will be good for the story.”

“
What, that people think Jake
’
s screwing his biographer?” I come off as short and terse. It
’
s because I am.

And because it
’
s the truth. Jake has screwed his biographer. His non-single, in a relationship with Will, biographer.

“
I
’
m just trying to look at the positives here, Tru.”

“
I know. I
’
m sorry.” I run my hand through my tangled hair. Hair that Jake tangled up. When he was in bed with me.

Inside me.

Shit. I
’
ve so totally and monumentally fucked everything up.

And even though the shit has totally hit the fan, I still get a shiver at the memory of his hands on me ... of him inside me.

“
I
’
m sorry, it
’
s just all a lot to take in with a hangover and a few hours
’
sleep.” I blow out a breath. “I
’
m going to have to call Will aren
’
t I?”

“
He probably won
’
t have seen the news yet. He
’
s more likely to read the Times than The Sun, right? And it
’
s not like you
’
ve done anything wrong, my darling, so don
’
t let that boy give you a hard time about this.”

I feel sick. I wish I was in the bathroom right now because I
’
m pretty sure I
’
m going to throw up any minute.

“
I won
’
t,” I say. “And thanks for calling to give me the heads up. You
’
re too good to me.”

“
Of course I
’
d call. I would always call. I love you, darling girl. You
’
ll call me later?”

“
Of course I will.”

I hang the phone up with Vicky, and stare down at my phone in my trembling hand.

I quickly go online on my phone and straight to Google and search Jake
’
s name under recent news.

And there they are, the pictures.

Crap.

They do not look good at all. They look incriminating.

Which they are, were … kind of.

Fuck.

With shaky fingers, I close the internet down, and speed dial Will
’
s number.

“
Hey, beautiful,” he coos down the phone. “I was just thinking about you.”

At the sound of his lovely voice, I almost break down.

And by his tone, I
’
m guessing he hasn
’
t seen the news yet. I don
’
t know if that
’
s a good thing or not.

“
All good I hope?”

“
That
’
s all my thoughts of you ever are. I miss you,” he breathes down the line.

I
’
m wicked and evil, and I
’
m going to Hell.

“
I miss you too … um, Will … I just wanted to give you a heads up … because well, there
’
s a story in the tabloids about Jake … and me. And it suggests that we are … um … sleeping together. Which obviously we
’
re not.”

Why did I say that?

Because you
’
re a coward.

No, I just can
’
t tell him this over the phone.

Will hasn
’
t said anything, and the silence is stretching.

“
Are you still there?” I ask.

“
Yes.” His tone is as stale as last week
’
s bread. “Why do the tabloids think you
’
re sleeping with him, exactly?”

“
You know journo
’
s.” I cringe as I say the words. “Jake sang this song at his show for me and they stupidly interpret it as he
’
s serenading me. And they
’
ve said that Jake said some stuff which he most definitely did not. Then I danced with him in the club, as I did some of the other guys in the band.”
A total lie.
“And then my feet were cut and hurting from my new shoes, so Jake carried me into the hotel … and that
’
s all,” I add lamely at the end.

Silence again. I can hear him breathing down the line.

I hold my breath, nervously fingering the hem of my T-shirt.

Jake
’
s T-shirt.

I
’
m the worst kind of person.

“
And there
’
s definitely nothing for me to be worried about?” he finally asks, his voice tentative, wary.

“
No, of course there isn
’
t, baby.”

I
’
m evil, pure evil.

I hear him exhale. “Then it doesn
’
t matter. Don
’
t worry yourself with it, darling.”

“
Well, I
’
m just worried about you … that it will cause you some problems. You know, stick from the guys at work.”

“
It
’
s not your fault, Tru.” His voice is soft. “You haven
’
t done anything wrong, so who cares what the papers say, or the dickheads I work with. They
’
ll soon get bored and move onto to something else when they realise there
’
s nothing in it.”

The bedroom opens and I glance up to see Jake standing here in all his glory, before me.

Crap.

“
Will,
”
I mouth to him, pointing my finger to the phone, which is now pressed firmly up against my ear.

His happy face drops, and he turns and goes back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

And I feel sicker from that one look on his face, than I have from anything I have heard and said since I woke.

“
So we
’
re okay?” I murmur to Will.

“
We
’
re more than okay. I
’
m sorry, darling, but I have to go, I
’
ve got a meeting and they
’
re calling me in now.”

“
Of course. Go. I
’
ll call you later.”

“
Love you,” he says.

“
Love you too.”

I hang up the phone and drop my head into my hands.

Then taking a deep breath, I get up and go to see Jake, with absolutely no clue what I
’
m going to say to him.

He
’
s sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing his boxer shorts, and the TV is on. One quick glance tells me it
’
s the Entertainment Channel.

“
So we made the news,” he says, gesturing to the TV with the remote. His eyebrow is raised, but I can see the wary in his glance. “Was that what the phone call was about?”

He says this like it
’
s a normal thing. But then I guess to him it is.

“
Yes,” I answer, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him. “Vicky called to tell me about the story, and I thought I should call Will
–
you know.”

“
So … um … did you tell him about us?” His voice is soft from beside me.

“
No! Of course not!” I turn, looking at him horrified.

His face hardens, and I instantly see how bad that sounded.

“
I didn
’
t realise the thought of me and you together was so bad,” he bites back.

Shit, he
’
s hurt.

“
No, that
’
s not what I meant
–
I just … it
’
s complicated,” I sigh.

He brushes my hair back over my shoulder, his fingertips skimming over the skin on my neck. “Are you ever going to tell him what happened between us?”

I lift my eyes to his. “Yes…no…I don
’
t know,” I shake my head, disconsolately. Staring down at my toes, I curl them into the carpet.

We sit in silence for a long moment.

I turn to face Jake, but he
’
s not looking at me, his eyes are staring blankly at the TV.

“
I just … I don
’
t even know what
’
s going on between you and me, Jake. I don
’
t know what this is.” I point my finger between the both of us.

He drags his eyes from the TV to mine, and he does not look happy in the least. “You don
’
t know what this is? Sorry, was I alone in that bed last night?” His eyes flick to the very spot where we had sex only hours ago.

“
No, of course not. But this is your MO, Jake. This is just what you do.” I signal to the very same spot.

He climbs up off the bed, leaving me feeling a little bereft.

“
Yeah, I always sleep with my best friends just for the hell of it. I fuck Denny and Tom all the time.”

Okay so that
’
s pissed me off.

“
Well how the hell am I supposed to know what you do and don
’
t do, Jake? What your guidelines to sex are? You generally screw anything in a skirt!” My voice is raised, and I
’
m on my feet now facing him, the bed between us.

He gives me a long, hard stare. “Nice, Tru. Real nice.”

“
Well it
’
s the truth!”

“
Yeah, well that may be, but you
’
re not just any girl
.
You
’
re my girl.”

“
What do you mean
–
I
’
m your girl?”

“
You know exactly what I mean.” His gaze fixes onto mine.

I lose my breath and my stomach tightens.

“
And at least I was always straight with those girls. They knew the score, I fucked them, showed them the time of their lives
–
they went home and I never saw them again
–
end of.”

“
God, you
’
re such an arrogant prick!” I yell. “And wait
–
hang on
–
what? You
’
re saying I wasn
’
t straight with you?”

“
That
’
s exactly what I
’
m saying.”

I drag my fingers through my hair. “I never said I was going to leave Will, and you never asked me too.”

“
Un-fucking-believable!” He picks his jeans up off the floor and starts pulling them on.

My heart is pumping hard in my chest.

“
Jesus Christ, Jake, just what exactly do you want from me?! You want me to leave Will so I can become your fuck buddy
–
your girl
,” I air quote. “While writing your bio, and you get to carry on living your rock star lifestyle, screwing anything that moves!”