The Mighty Storm

Chapter Ten




It’s my second day in Stockholm and tonight is TMS’s first show.
I’m at the stadium with the band. The opening show is at the Ericsson Globe. It’s the strangest and most cool building I have ever seen. It’s shaped like a large white ball. It’s also quite a small venue for the guys, it only takes about sixteen thousand people, there’s the Stockholm Stadium which hosts double that, but I think the guys wanted to kick the tour off with a small venue to start with.
I’m sitting out in the seats watching them rehearse for tonight, while the roadies get everything set up for tonight’s show.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Jake up on stage with my own two eyes, and not watching him through a TV screen.
He looks at ease up there, but I can tell he’s a little on edge. I can see it in his eyes. That little lost look he gets. He exudes calm control to everyone, but I can tell. He was the same when we were kids.
Other people probably miss it, but I see it, I’ve always seen it in him.
I’m guessing he’s on edge because it’s his first show since Japan. I think he struggles on stage without Jonny by his side. It must be hard for all of them, and for Smith too, having to fill the stage where such a big presence once stood.
I spent yesterday in the hotel with Jake and the guys. After I’d finished unpacking and calling my dad, Will and Simone, Jake came knocking to see if I wanted any food. The guys were ordering room service up. Surprisingly, they weren’t going out partying.
Maybe being good boys with the first show being the next day.
So I went and hung out with them, ate, drank beer and played cards.
I wasn’t technically working yesterday but just being with them all gave me a good initial insight into the dynamics between them all. The relationship the band has, especially with new addition of Smith for the tour.
It’s funny, because even though Jake’s the ‘boss’ it didn’t come across that way with them. They all seem to have a great relationship. Watching them together, it was just like watching a bunch of guys in college. Even with Smith, there’s no weirdness with him there, the way they act toward him, it seems like he’s always been there.
But it did make me wonder what it was like when Jonny was still here.
It’s clear that Denny is the sensible one, so I get the impression he’s the one Jake can rely on for work. Tom’s not unreliable, but the definite player I’d say. The one always cracking jokes, the partier and clearly a womaniser.
Tom’s eyes spent a lot of time on my boobs while I was there with them. It didn’t bother me, but I got the clear impression it was bothering Jake. Mainly because he kept asking me if I was cold, and did I need to put a sweater on over my vest top.
Yeah sure Jake, it’s a hundred degrees in here, of course I want to wear a sweater!
His behaviour, if anything just highlighted the big brother vibe I got earlier, when he made the comment about Smith being married.
Tom is well known, like Jake, for enjoying the ‘female’ perks of his profession.
I can imagine Tom is that kind of player who would work the room, flirting his way around. I think Jake is the kind of guy who waits for woman to come to him. He doesn’t work for it. Then again, he doesn’t need too.
Not that I’ve seen any of this in action yet, but I’m sure I will very soon. And honestly, I’m not looking forward to seeing Jake with other women. The thought turns my stomach.
I didn’t do any of the sightseeing I had intended to on my first day in Stockholm, and I probably won’t today either as I’m here with Jake and the guys at the stadium, and then it’s the show tonight, then we leave first thing in the morning to go to Germany.
I get a feeling this is how things might be for the whole of the tour.
It’s lunchtime, Jake’s called a break from rehearsal and I’m in one of the large dressing rooms with him and the guys, and a few other people from the tour, eating lunch.
I’m sitting on the sofa, my notepad rested on the arm, and I’m writing up some things, pulling together some of my notes from the rehearsals.
“Did you get anything good from this morning’s rehearsal for the book?” Jake asks slumping down into the empty space next to me, indicating to my notebook.
He sits so close, a nervous energy suddenly takes reign under my skin.
“A few things.” I turn my head, smiling at him. “It was great watching you up there on stage.”
“The show tonight will be even better,” he smiles confidently back at me.
He can be such an arrogant sod at times, but it’s so alluring.
“I’m sure it will be.” Then a thought pops into my head, remembering something he said to me back when I interviewed him, about that woman he’d hired for the tour, who was going to make it amazing. He hasn’t mentioned her since, and I haven’t been introduced to many women on this tour. Jake seems to have a lot of men working for him, I feel quite outnumbered; it’s a good job I get on better with men. Men, especially who are into music I can get on with no problem. Bitchy groupies looking to hook up with Jake, maybe not so much.
I wonder if that’s a deliberate thing on his part, keeping it mainly to a male orientated tour, keeping the temptation from wanting to screw any of his staff away from him. F*cking the staff wouldn’t make for a good working environment I’d imagine.
“So when do I get to meet the mystery woman on this tour?” I ask, crossing my legs.
Jake looks at me confused. “What do you mean?”
I turn my body toward him slightly. “When I interviewed you, you said you’d hired some woman who was going to make this tour your most successful to date.”
He laughs. “You’re wearing her shoes, Tru.” He glances down at my dangling foot.
I follow his stare, lifting my high heeled black studded ankle boot up a little higher.
“Eh?”
He leans close, and his hot breath brushes over the skin on my neck tickling me, as he says, “I was talking about you, Tru.”
What?
I stay shock still as he leans back, assessing my face.
“But you didn’t offer me this job, or well … the magazine until the next day,” I utter, finding my voice.
He grins. “I know.”
“So how did you know I’d take the job?”
“Because women never say no to me.” With a wink, he gets up and wanders off over to the food table.
God, he’s such a cocky, arrogant bastard at times. And I totally fancy him.
No I don’t.
Yes, I do.
No. I. Don’t.
Ah f*ck.


I’m at the side of the stage standing in the right wing with Stuart. The support band had finished a while ago, and now TMS are about to take the stage.
Jake walks slowly onto stage coming in from the left, with a confidence that only he can carry, with his guitar slung across his back.
He looks across at me, his eyes move over my clothes, my body, then they meet with mine and he grins.
I feel a blush rise in my cheeks. I’m glad it’s a little darker here where we’re standing, so Stuart can’t see what a girl I’m being.
When Jake reaches the mike, he leans close, but then pauses, leaning back he surveys the crowd. This Jake has this way of looking around at everyone in the room, but making you feel like the only person he’s actually looking at is you. That you are the object of his desire. You’re the one he’s taking home tonight. He can undress a woman with one look alone. And when his eyes meet and fix onto mine, I suddenly feel it and more, and it strips me naked to the core. My legs start to tremble.
Then his eyes drift away from mine.
“So I see we have Stockholm’s finest in here tonight. Ladies you look beautiful tonight … and guys, well hang on tight to your girls is all I’m sayin’,” he releases a slow, chuckle. Moving back slightly, he looks at me, gives me a wink and a secret smile, then launches into one of their early hits. ‘Undress You’.
And boy do I feel undressed.
And I stand here experiencing the Jake Wethers experience in full 3D HD glory feeling exposed and naked, and good lord it’s amazing.
I feel high.
On him.
His voice is like hands moving over my skin touching me. His hands. Touching me.
I want that now.
No I don’t.
I mean it’s just a reflex reaction to the rock star lover in me. The dream of wanting to be the one to tame him.
Of course it’s not real.
Halfway through the show, Jake slows things down to a stop.
He swings his guitar to rest behind him and, lifts his hand to his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I just wanted to pause for a minute to talk about Jonny…”
A few fans cry out from the crowd, “Jonny we f*ckin’ love you!”
I feel the hairs on my arms prickle. I can see how hard this is for Jake. And I think of him talking to me in bed last night about Jonny. How Jonny was his glue. That Jonny and me were so similar, and I wonder now if that’s how he stills see me – as his strength. I get the sudden urge to want to hold him, run my fingers through his hair, kiss him and tell him everything will always be okay.
Jake bows his head, resting it against the mike.
My throat tightens, tears biting my eyes, as I worry that he’s losing it again, here on stage.
Denny’s over his drum-kit, jumping it in on swift move and he’s at Jake’s side instantly. He puts his hand on Jake’s shoulder, and rests his forehead against Jake’s head, speaking into his ear. Tom is there now too. I notice Smith, takes leave to the side of the stage.
The stadium is at a standstill.
There is a golf ball the size of Africa formed in my throat. Tears welling in my eyes, as I watch these three men who I know, one of whom I love very much, still grieving over the loss of their best friend.
I glance at Stuart beside me. His eyes look glazed. It must have been hard on him too losing Jonny. I know he works for Jake, but he would have known him too.
Feeling overcome with emotion, I press my lips together and wrap my arms around myself, then look back out to the stage. Back to Jake.
Jake lifts his head and clears his throat. “I met Jonny at high-school. I’d just moved to the States from the England, I was the new awkward British kid - a little lost and a lot lonely, and there he was. He took me under his wing and taught me to be his level of cool.” He pulls in a deep breath. “We formed TMS, with just the two of us. Then at college we met Denny through one of Jonny’s many girlfriends, and Denny introduced us to Tom, and that’s when TMS was properly born.” Another deep breath. Jake glances at Denny, then Tom. “Jonny wasn’t just our band member,” he says looking straight ahead. “And he wasn’t just our best friend … or our wing-man. He was the mighty in our storm. The man was a f*ckin’ musical genius, and he was taken from us too soon. And we miss him every single f*ckin’ day.”
Jake pulls his mike out from the stand and walks to the front of the stage, Tom and Denny following, as a runner hands him up three bottles of Jack.
He hands one each to Tom and Denny.
“So I want you to all raise your drinks for Jonny Creed - the best guy this world ever had the good fortune to know.” Jake raises his bottle and looks up the sky. “Jonny man, we love you and we miss you every day, and I know for sure that you’re looking down right now with a bottle in your hand, a cigarette in the other, saying, ‘Quit being a set of pussies and give these good people the show they f*ckin’ paid to see!’ ”
I see Tom and Denny smiling at Jake’s words, nodding their agreement.
Jake chinks bottles with them both, and the three of them, at the same time, throw the whiskey back.
The crowd is screaming out Jonny’s name.
Men and women are openly crying in the audience. And I can’t help the tear that runs from my eye.
I quickly wipe it away.
Jake returns back to the mike stand with his much lighter whiskey bottle. He fits his mike in the stand. Denny climbs back into his drum kit, Tom wandering back to his place on Jake’s right hand side.
And for this moment, all three of them look a little lost, together.
It makes my heart ache with love for Jake.
Jake leans down and puts his whiskey bottle by the mike stand.
I see Smith quietly reappear back on stage to Jake’s left.
“This song we’re playing next is one Jonny and I wrote in the early days. It was the one Jonny was most proud of … his favourite, and I know how much it meant to him when we released it and you guys loved it too, when you took a chance on us … it’s one I’m sure you’ll all be familiar with, so I want you stretch your lungs out and sing this one with me – for Jonny.”
Jake swings his guitar around to the front, bows his head looking down at his guitar as he strums a few chords, then Denny kicks the beat in and Jake lifts his head and starts to sing one of their early biggest hits, ‘Hush, Baby’.
I get goose bumps all over my skin. Listening as the crowd goes wild. And I stand here, transfixed singing along with the words, watching Jake. I can see how hard it is for him to get through this song, and I know he’s thinking of Jonny the whole time.
I wish I had been there for him when Jonny died. I wasn’t then, but I want to be every day from now on.
Jake and I will always be friends. No matter what. I’m never losing him again.


I’m at the after show party which is being held at this upmarket club called the Spy Bar. It’s packed to the rafters with showbiz like people from Sweden, and everyone who works on the tour.
I’m glad I dressed nice for tonight as most of the women here are glamorous and classy. I went for something a little different though, well I always wear different, but I bought this matching navy blue pinstripe v-neck fitted waistcoat and straight leg cropped trousers just before I left for the tour. It was love at first sight and I just had to have them. I’ve teamed it with my skyscraper patent black heels. I know most of the woman here are in dresses, but I like to be a little different, and technically I am working, so it’s like I’m wearing work clothes.
I’m at the bar with a couple of the roadies Pete and Gary who I was chatting to earlier, drinking a margarita.
I haven’t seen Jake since the show. He had some interviews to do straight after, so when he exited stage he was swept off by Stuart.
I was going to hang around and wait for him but Pete came over and said they were heading straight for the party, and did I want to catch a ride with them; normally the roadies have to stay on and pack up after the show, but Jake, being the good boss he is, lets them pack up in the morning so they can enjoy the party with everyone else. So of course I accepted, better than hanging around the stadium like a spare part.
“So how long have you worked for Jake?” I ask Pete. Gary is busily chatting to one of the other roadies, Jared I think his name is.
Pete’s a cute guy, short dark hair, about six foot, quite muscular, must be from all the heavy lifting he does on tour.
“Five years on and off,” he replies in his strong American accent, leaning back against the bar, resting his elbows on it.
A lot of bands have crews for abroad when they tour, but Jake has a set group of guys he trusts that tour everywhere with him.
“You must have seen a lot of the world.”
“A few places,” he grins. “It’s a good gig working for these guys … so how did you land up here?” he asks.
“Oh, I er …” I’m just about to reply, when I see Pete’s eyes flick up, and I instantly feel Jake’s presence behind me.
Turning, I almost come face to face with him, he’s that close.
“Hey,” I say beaming.
“Hey, beautiful.” He kisses my cheek, and rests his hand on my waist and stares across at Pete.
I feel a little heady under his touch.
“You want a drink, Jake?” Pete asks.
“Beer,” he replies. His tone is stony.
Pete turns to the bar to order Jake’s drink for him.
Sliding out of Jake’s arm, I retrieve my margarita from the bar, feeling a little annoyed by his big brother attitude again.
“You shouldn’t leave your drink unattended like that,” he comments. “Anyone could slip something in it.”
I glance down at my drink, then back up at him. “You saying your staff are untrustworthy?” I grin over my glass at him, as I take a sip.
He shakes his head, slowly at me, eyes gripping mine.
“You forget your shirt tonight?” He gestures at my bare arms, and waistcoat.
“Funny.” I roll my eyes at him. Then pouting, I say, “You don’t like my outfit?”
He moistens his lips with his tongue. “No, I do, it’s really nice.” His eyes flicker to my boobs, then back to my face; I don’t miss that. “I just happen to know every other guy in this place is gonna think so too, and I’m gonna spend most of tonight kicking their asses.”
Sighing, I shake my head. “You can quit with the big brother act, Jake. We’re not kids anymore. I can take care of myself.”
He presses his lips together, grinning. “Big brother act?”
“Yeah, the whole ‘hands off Tru she’s got a boyfriend’ thing you keep doing. I’m pretty much the only girl on tour here and if you scare off every guy who talks to me, I’ll only be left with you to talk with.”
“Suits me.”
“Jake!” I exclaim, feeling quick to exasperation. “I’m not a bed hopper you know. I’m not going to sleep with all these guys just because I talk to them. I’m not going to cheat on Will, it’d just be nice to have people to talk to when you’re not around.”
And it’s kind of annoying, and hurtful that he thinks I am to be honest.
His brow furrows. “I know you’re not a bed hopper, Tru. I’m just taking care of my best friend, it’s written in the rules if I remember correctly.”
“You’re version of them or mine?” I grin. I can’t stay mad with him for long.
He presses his lips together again, supressing his own grin. “Mine.”
Pete hands Jake his beer.
“Thanks,” he says, taking the beer from him, but not taking his eyes off mine.
“Come and sit with me,” Jake says holding out his hand for me to take.
I stare into his eyes for a long moment. “Okay.” I take his hand. “See you guys later,” I say to Pete and Gary.
Jake leads me over to a booth already filled with Tom, Denny, Smith, Stuart. I can see a group of girls hanging nearby, and I feel the hard stares I earn from them because Jake is holding my hand.
It makes me feel a little uncomfortable.
Jake ushers me in the booth first, next to Denny, and sits beside me trapping me in. I put my drink down on the table and my bag on the floor beside my feet.
“You enjoy the show?” Denny asks me.
“I did,” I smile. “It was amazing.”
“You’re looking very beautiful tonight, Tru,” Tom smiles across the table at me.
“Thank you,” I flush feeling a little shy.
I don’t know want it is about Tom, but he has this ability to make me feel like I’m a sixteen year old girl. I think he has that effect on most women. And I don’t even fancy him, it’s so totally weird. Maybe it’s his patter that does it. It always feels like there’s a hidden agenda behind what he’s saying.
A lot like Jake in that respect. But I get the impression Tom’s hidden meaning when directed at me is a lot dirtier than Jake’s.
Jake shifts around in his seat, pressing his leg up against mine and puts his arm around the back of the seat behind me.
I see Tom’s eyes flicker in his direction, and he grins.
Big brother Jake is back, and I get the distinct feeling that Tom is enjoying winding him up with me.
“Well you a*sholes are boring the shit out of me, barring you of course Tru.” Tom flashes a toothy smile at me again as he climbs out of the booth, stepping over Smith, jumping to the floor. “I’m off to go pick a skirt up for the night.”
“Is there ever a time when you’re not horny?” Stuart asks him.
Tom looks at him like this is the most ridiculous question he’s ever been asked.
“Nope,” he grins. “I’m like a horny Tom cat, always on the prowl for new p-ssy.”
Jake splutters out a laugh. I have to hold one back myself.
“Did you actually just refer to yourself as a Tom cat?” Jake asks, still laughing.
“Hell yeah! And don’t you go all prim on me, ass-face, because I know for a fact you’ve referred to your dick as a snake on many occasion.”
Stuarts snorts his drink up his nose, and starts choking.
I feel Jake tense beside me. I can’t even look at him.
“A python if I remember right,” Tom grins, obviously enjoying winding him up.
“More like a f*ckin’ cobra from what I hear!” Denny chips in.
Smith starts laughing too, obviously in on this whole Jake the snake joke.
“Hey, I can’t help it if I was blessed with a big dick, unlike you douchebags,” Jake says, picking his beer up, quickly getting back in the game.
“F*ck off!” Tom says grabbing his crotch. “I’m well packed here, primed and ready to go.”
It’s a good job I’m not prudish in any way sitting here with these lot. Though talking about Jake and his snake is making me feel a little lightheaded. I wonder how big it actually is? I’m tempted to cast my gaze downwards at his crotch, but I hold of the urge, pinning my eyes up front and ahead.
“Hey, thinking about this,” Toms adds, leaning his groin up against our table. “I’m feeling a theme coming on here, we’ve got, of course, me - hunky f*ckin’ Tom cat, Jake the snake there … now we just need to figure something up for you three f*ckers.” He gestures to Denny, Stuart and Smith.
Denny lifts his head. “No f*ckin’ way man, leave me out of your weird animal fantasies.”
“Ah shut up you miserable f*cker! Denny? What rhymes with Denny?” he muses. “Ah man your name is shit! Nothing rhymes with it. We’re gonna have to change it.”
Denny climbs up over Stuart, then Smith, and jumps lithely to the floor. “Remind me why I’m friends with you again?” he asks Tom, patting his shoulder.
“Because I’m f*ckin’ awesome and I can get chicks to play with your dick.”
I can’t help but snort a laugh out at that one.
Jake slides me an amused glance. But all it manages to do is tighten my stomach into knots, and then I have the sudden urge to want to touch him.
“I’m off to piss,” Denny laughs, shaking his head at Tom, he wanders off in the direction of the men’s room
“You coming to pick up some skirts, dickhead?” Tom says directing a look at Jake, already sounding like it’s a given he’ll go.
I instantly tense. I don’t want Jake going to pick girls up. The thought is curdling my insides.
Jake shakes his head, taking a drink of his beer. “No, I’m good here.”
Tom looks at him like he’s grown another head. Even Stuart gives him a surprised stare.
I relax in my seat.
“Did they amputate your dick while you were in rehab? Or has Stuart finally managed to turn you?” Tom asks, laughing.
Turn him? Is Stuart gay?
It must be the expression on my face which causes Stuart to lean over to me and say, “I’m gay, honey.”
“Ah right,” I nod.
Makes sense. He’s ridiculously beautiful and has the best taste in clothes.
Jake laughs, reaching forward he puts his beer down. “No, and no,” he says answering Tom. “I’ve told you, I don’t f*ck the staff.”
I’m ‘the staff’. So he won’t be f*cking me then.
Thank God of course that he won’t be trying it on with me. I know he wouldn’t anyway because he doesn’t see me that way, but it’s just good to know Jake doesn’t have sex with the few women who work for him. Just everyone else of course.
Stuart snorts loudly.
Jake leans forward, looking at him with interest.
“Chloe?” Stuart raises his eyebrow.
Jake screws his face up in thought, quickly shifting to remembrance. “Ah yeah, okay … so I don’t f*ck the staff anymore.”
Okay, so he did used to screw the staff.
I suddenly feel uncomfortable and a little sick listening to this conversation.
This is the Jake I read about in the papers. I don’t want to hear about this Jake.
“Can you let me out?” I say to him.
“Sure. Where you off to?” he asks, sliding out of the booth, letting me out onto my wobbly legs.
“Bathroom,” I answer, keeping my tone even.
I walk away heading for the ladies, trying to ignore the stares from his waiting groupies, and from Jake himself.