The Mighty Storm (35 page)

She presses her lips together, apologising with her eyes.

I sit back in my chair and give her a light, forgiving smile. But it feels heavy on my face and I can
’
t hold it for long.

Denny comes back with his and Stuart
’
s drinks, taking Simone
’
s attention again. And I glad because I just can
’
t seem to muster up any conversation with anyone. My mind is far too busy working overtime, wondering where Jake is, what he
’
s up too and who with.

If he was with Denny I wouldn
’
t be worried. But he
’
s with Tom, and Tom
’
s … well, he
’
s exactly the same as Jake, when it comes to women. A complete slag.

And the fact that Denny is here without them, meaning he left them to whatever they were doing so he could come to the party, as he isn
’
t into the whole shagging thousands of women thing, isn
’
t looking good right now.

What if Jake is with some groupie who managed to scam her way backstage? Or even worse … with some gorgeous French model or actress who was a VIP at the show.

Jake
’
s blatantly angry with me because Will is here, so maybe he
’
s decided to forget all about me with the help of someone else.

I start to feel sick, so I pick my margarita up and get chugging on it, trying to kill all thoughts of Jake.

We
’
ve been here an hour, the drink is not soothing me and I
’
m getting ansty, because Jake and Tom are still no shows.

Simone and Denny are getting on a treat which is awesome. I
’
ve picked up my conversational skills with Will and Stuart some, but not by much, I
’
m more pretending to listen than actually listening.

My eyes are surreptitiously trained on the door, and person after person, I
’
m met with disappointment that it
’
s not Jake walking through those doors.

I don
’
t even know if he
’
ll even speak to me when he does arrive. Or maybe he won
’
t come because I
’
m here with Will.

No, it
’
s the aftershow party for the final leg of the European tour, a big deal and there are a lot of important people here. Jake
’
s a businessman as well as a musician, he
’
ll show.

I
’
m getting the urge to want to call him. I keep considering it over and over in my mind whether or not to go to the bathroom and call him.

I
’
m on my second margarita, and trying to pace myself for the night, as I feel it will more than likely be a long one. And counting the drinks I had at the show, I
’
m three glasses of wine and two margaritas in already.

Denny has gone to the bar, Simone accompanying under the pretence of helping him carry the drinks back. She just wanted to get him alone, and I can
’
t say I blame her.

Stuart and Will are talking cars now, so I open up my handbag on the table and check my phone for the tenth time to see if Jake has called or text me, but there
’
s nothing but a blank screen staring back at me.

I
’
m turning into a crazy person over him. Is he doing this to me on purpose? Knowing him, yes, quite probably.

But I have to know whether he
’
s coming tonight or not.

I decide to go to the bathroom to call him, and I
’
m just about to get up from my seat, when I hear the noise that always accompanies Jake, as he comes into the party with Tom. Dave and Ben are obviously with them, and there
’
s a group of people I don
’
t recognise also.

Rapturous applause breaks out, the masses encroaching on Jake. And in this moment I feel incredibly proud of him as all eyes in the room are focussed solely on him.

I
’
m so relieved to see him that I think the huge smile on my face might split my cheeks in half.

But my relief doesn
’
t last long, and I see as the crowd shifts, standing beside Jake, is a very beautiful girl, with long thick red hair, a huge cleavage and legs that go on forever, wearing a dress that shows them off to their max. She looks like model.

And Jake is holding her hand.

My gut empties hollow, the smile quickly falling from my face, as it starts to prickle.

And therein I instantly get my answer as to where, and who he
’
s been with for the last hour.

A thousand thoughts and emotions stream through me.

None of them good.

I feel sick and stupid, dizzy and my heart is physically hurting in my chest.

My legs are itching to take me up from this chair and running for the door and out of here, and far, far away.

But I don
’
t move. I just sit here, rooted with pain, as I watch Jake with this girl.

I see his eyes scan the room. They lock onto mine. I freeze for a long moment, while his eyes burn me.

I look away. It’s too hard to look at him for another moment longer, as thoughts whip through my mind as to what he
’
s been doing with her.

I wonder if that is what it
’
s like for him when I
’
m with Will.

Maybe that
’
s why he
’
s with her, to hurt me. Well, if it is, it
’
s working, and well.

I
’
m raw with jealousy. I didn
’
t know I had it in me to feel it to this level.

With my trembling hand, I finger the steam of my glass, picking it up I tip my head back, letting the margarita run down my throat.

As I move my eyes downwards, resting my glass back on the table, I
’
m met with Jake. He
’
s standing at our table, directly in front of me, his redhead in tow.

He
’
s not holding her hand anymore, I notice. Even still, it doesn
’
t make me feel any better.

I just feel angry with him, and jealous. So very jealous.

And for a second, I wish I was sitting next to Will and not Stuart, so I could hurt Jake like he
’
s hurting me. But then it would be a little strange if I leaned over Stuart to get to Will.

More like obvious, and childish, I
’
d say.

I force composure on myself.

“
Where
’
s Denny?” Jake asks Stuart.

He
’
s ignoring me. It hurts.

“
The bar.” Stuart points in Denny
’
s direction.

Seeing Denny with Simone, Jake grins and nods his head in approval.

“
Hi, I
’
m Will,” Will says to Jake, getting to his feet. “Tru
’
s boyfriend. We haven
’
t had a chance to meet yet.” Will holds his hand out to Jake.

Jake glances down at his hand like he
’
s not sure what to do with it.

And for that long second everything seems to hang in the air, precariously balancing.

Then Jake takes his hand and shakes it. “Good to finally meet you. Tru
’
s told me a lot about you.”

Jake casts a glance in my direction. It tears right through me.

“
All good I hope?”

“
Of course,” Jake lightly shrugs his shoulders, taking his hand back.

I let the breath out I was holding.

“
The show was amazing,” Will continues, sitting back down. “And I thought your version of Mr Brightside was bloody brilliant
–
better than the original.”

I nearly crack into pieces on the spot.

Jake
’
s eyes flicker in my direction again, and he smirks. “Thanks.”

“
Jake, are we getting a drink?” Redhead pulls on his arm. Her voice is sweet, laced with a heavy French accent, and she pronounces Jake
–
Zzhake, rolling his name around her tongue.

It sounds as sexy as she looks. I hate her.

Why do the French always sound sexy? So much sexier than my Spanish accent, the one that turns Jake on.

Fine, he wants to play games, well I
’
m up for that.

“
Yeah, in a minute,” Jake answers her sounding irritated.

“
Aren
’
t you going to introduce us to your new friend, Jake?” Stuart asks.

Jake narrows a gaze at Stuart, who seems unfazed by the darts he
’
s shooting him down with.

I don
’
t think I want to know her name. It somehow makes her even more real if she has a name.

Jake glances back at redhead. “Um … yeah, this is
…
um.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I
’
m Juliette.” She presses her small hand to her large chest.

Zzhuliette
.

So not only is she beautiful, she has a beautiful name. Which, Jake either couldn
’
t remember or hadn
’
t even bothered to find out.

I don
’
t even know if that should make me feel better or not.

“
Zzhuliette,” I hear myself saying in a really bad French accent.

Jake
’
s eyes flicker to mine. Zzhuilette stares at me too.

Oh God.

“
It
’
s a really pretty name,” I somehow recover. And I don
’
t know if it
’
s the booze or a mild hysteria setting in, but I say, in bad French again, “Zzhake and Zzhuilette. Has quiet a ring to it. Don
’
t you agree?” I stare at Jake.

He shifts on his feet, looking at me like I
’
ve just grown another head.

I know Will
’
s staring at me too, but in this moment I don
’
t care.

Jake laughs, getting his cool composure back. “What
have you been
drinking, Tru?”

“
Oh, just a few margarita’s.” I stare at him steady, shrugging, forcing the best smile I can muster up. “I
’
m just feeling happy. Looking on the brightside, you know. Will and Simone are here, it
’
s all good, I
’
m happy, happy, happy!”

His eyes harden, burning into mine. “So what did
you
think of the show, Tru?”

Is he asking my professional opinion or asking me in my current state of anger with him? Honestly, I don
’
t even know why he is asking. And hearing him say my name, it
’
s like I
’
m hearing it for the first time.

How can this be the same man who made love to me all through the night. Told me how much he missed me for the years we
’
d been apart. The man who pleaded with me to never leave him.

“
Trooo?” Zzhuilette looks at me puzzled, with bitch in her eyes. “You
’
re name is Trooo?”

I
’
ve never wanted to slap someone as much as I do her now.

Take my guy
–
fine. Don
’
t dis my name. Even though I just did yours a few moments ago
–
kind of.

“
Trudy,” I explain. “My friends call me Tru for short.” I emphasise the
‘
u
’
.

“
Ahh, I zee.” She runs her fingernails through her hair seemingly bored now.

Obviously she has the attention span of a gnat.

Ugh, I
’
m turning into one of those bitchy women. Good.

I pick my margarita up and take a mouthful for courage.

“
And to answer your question, Jake,” I start to speak in my Spanish accent, because I know how much it affects him, and I want to be a bitch.

Jake
’
s eyes widen and fire, and I know I
’
m playing a dangerous game. I dare not even look at Will.