The Mighty Storm

Chapter Six




Okay. I’m having dinner with Jake.
Jake Wethers.
But he’s still just Jake … the same Jake I knew.
No he’s not – he’s now rock god Jake.
Oh crap.
I’ve been ready for the past half an hour and have been pacing around my flat ever since. I’ve had a large glass of wine already and am starting on my second, trying to calm my nerves.
And Simone’s not here to help either. She was so gutted when I told her Jake was coming to the flat to pick me up. She’s working late on a project for this new client of hers and couldn’t get out of it.
Maybe it’s best she’s not here, I’m freaking out as it is. Simone is a big Mighty Storm fan, so she’d be freaking too, making me worse.
What on earth am I going to talk to him about tonight?
I know, I’ve known Jake a long time, but I knew him back then. Not now.
Now he’s a mega rich superstar. And I’m just a lowly journalist working for a small, up and coming magazine, with enough money to pay the bills and fill the cupboard with enough food and wine to get me through the week.
He probably earns in an hour what I do in a year.
I’ve stayed in exactly the same place and Jake has sky rocketed to the stars.
We live in two very different worlds. I don’t know anything about his life now, except what I’ve read in the papers.
I wonder if he still likes the same things he did when I knew him?
Of course he doesn’t. Do I still like the same things I did when I was fourteen? Nope. Well, except for kids cereal. Coco Pops are awesome.
I’m just wondering once the step back in time has dried up, what on earth will we talk about. We are so worlds apart now. Our childhood aside, what else is there?
I’m just hoping the childhood stories will somehow stretch us through the night.
I gulp down another mouthful of wine.
The doorbell rings. It’s a minute after eight. If nothing else, he’s punctual. And here was me expecting him to be rock star late.
Putting my glass down, I pick my handbag up, get my keys and wobble on nervous legs to the door.
When I open it, he’s standing there looking all kinds of gorgeous, wearing dark blue fitted jeans, Converses trainers and a pale blue shirt which is rolled up at the sleeves, top buttons open, his tattoos on show.
And once again, I suddenly feel totally of out of my depth.
“Hi,” I say.
“Wow. You look great.”
I flush. “Thanks, you too.”
I’m doing a little mini-dance inside.
This dress was totally worth it – okay, so I might have popped to my favourite clothes shop, Dixies, after work and bought the dress I’ve been eyeing in the window for the last few weeks. The dress I couldn’t really afford at the moment – so, thank you Visa.
It’s not to impress Jake or anything, I mean it’s not like we’re going on a date, but he’s rich and I wanted to look nice. And the dress is so damn cute.
It’s a black shift dress with silver embellishment all over it, and so totally me. I’ve teamed it with my black heels, and silver clutch bag, and I left my hair down and curly, and kept my make-up minimal, how I always wear it.
I step through the door, deciding against inviting him in for a drink. He probably lives in a mansion. I don’t want him looking around my tiny flat.
I lock up and follow him down the path.
“Nice place.” He nods back at the house that hosts my flat.
“Thanks … wow, is this yours?” I ask as he approaches a silver Aston Martin DBS.
He grins and unlocks it with the key fob. “Loaner, but I do have one back home.”
Loaner? I’d be lucky if I’d be able to loan a scooter.
And once again, I’m reminded of how very different our lives are.
“Isn’t this James Bonds car?” I ask, as I slide into the supple leather seat, putting my seatbelt on.
“Well, not this specific one, no – but I have driven his.”
I slide him a look. “Show off,” I smile.
“Oh, you have no idea.” He winks at me, leaving my stomach to free-fall off into the next galaxy.
We pull away, roaring off down my small street, in his very flashy car.
“So where are we going?” I ask, still trying to recover myself from his earlier comment.
“It’s a surprise.”
“A surprise?” I turn to look at him.
He slides me a look, a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah a surprise, you remember those – they usually happen on birthdays, that kind of thing.”
“But it’s not my birthday.”
“Yeah, well I’ve missed twelve of them, so I’ve got quite a few surprises to make up for.”
I really don’t know what to say to that, so for once, I keep quiet.
I look out of the window and notice a black Land Rover that is driving pretty close to the back of the car.
Turning my head, I look over my shoulder at the car. It’s tinted and I can’t see in the window. I hope it’s not paparazzi following him. Don’t they usually drive big smog chuggers like that?
“That car’s pretty close behind,” I say, tilting my head back in its direction, trying to alert him.
Jake’s eyes flick to his rear-view and then back to me.
“It’s Dave, my security guy.”
“Oh. Does he go everywhere with you?”
“Yeah … well everywhere, except the bathroom.” He slides his grinning eyes in my direction.
“Why is he riding back there and not in the car with us.”
“Because I wanted to be alone with you.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
My nerves have instantly gone haywire. I could really do with another glass of wine.
Actually, I feel the need to drink every time he looks at me. I have a feeling I’m going to get very drunk tonight.
I look out of the window again, watching the buildings of London, thinking how surreal this is. Last night I was out getting drunk in Mandarin’s with Simone, ragged nerves over interviewing Jake, wondering if he would remember me, and now I’m here in his fancy James Bond car, and he’s driving me to my surprise night out.
Jake Wethers, my old best friend, one-time love of my life, biggest rock star and most sought after man in the world, and he is sitting inches away from me. I could reach my hand out and touch him.
I won’t though, cause that would be pretty weird.
Actually, things don’t get much weirder than this.


We’re in Convent Garden when Jake pulls the car up and parks it on the main road just outside a Pizza Hut. His security guy pulls up behind.
“I don’t think you can park here,” I say looking around at the no parking signs
“Don’t worry, come on.” He climbs out of the car. I guess when you’re him you can do whatever you want.
I climb out of the car and notice there’s a guy standing outside the entrance to the Pizza Hut staring at us. My first thought is he must recognise Jake, but then I realise it’s Stuart, Jake’s PA.
“Hey,” Jake says to him. “All ready?”
“Yep.” Stuart nods.
Jake tosses the car keys to him. “I’ll call you when we’re done.”
“No worries, have a good night … hello again, Trudy,” Stuart says as he walks past us.
“Hi,” I say, offering him a smile.
Stuart hops in the James Bond car and promptly drives away.
“Come on,” Jake says, taking hold of my hand.
My skin tingles at his touch again. He’s so much more tactile than he used to be, I notice.
He walks me to the entrance of the Pizza Hut.
I stop and look up at the sign, then back to Jake.
“We’re going to Pizza Hut?” I grin.
He remembers.
That was what he meant in the car with the comment about my birthdays.
Every birthday we would come here, it was kind of a tradition with us – and who doesn’t love Pizza Hut, right?
I can’t believe he remembers. I feel all warm and squishy inside, and also a little overdressed.
He smiles back at me, it reaches all the way to his beautiful blue eyes. “Like I said, I’ve got twelve birthdays to make up for. I know it’s not the one we used to go to in Manchester, but I figured you wouldn’t want to drive all the way up there, so this was the next best thing. After you ...” he gestures for me to pass him.
My heart is buzzing around my chest at his thoughtfulness. I walk past him and make my way down the stairs.
Jake is the only guy I know who would pick me up in an Aston Martin DBS then bring me to Pizza Hut. And that’s why I love him.
I mean, of course I don’t love him – love him. I just used to love him when I was younger.
Anyway, the Covent Garden one is a little smarter than the usual Pizza Huts’. Especially the one we used to go to in Manchester, at least from the outside. For starters, it’s underground and you have to take the stairs to reach it, but once you get inside it’s just a regular Pizza Hut and I love it.
I’m greeted at the bottom of the stairs by a waiter. The instant he sees Jake, nerves and awe light his eyes up.
I feel sorry for him, as it must be a shock when the biggest rock star in the world turns up unannounced in your place of work. I mean Pizza Hut is not where you’d usually expect to see Jake Wethers.
It’d pretty hard not to be overawed but I think he does okay overall. He doesn’t ask for Jake’s autograph which is a good start, because I totally would have.
As I glance around, I see the restaurant is empty.
Surprising, but lucky as I’m pretty sure Jake would have got hassled non-stop for autographs in here. Hopefully, it will stay quiet while we’re here.
The waiter shows us over to a booth table. I slide into my seat, Jake sits opposite me.
His legs are long under the table. I bump his leg with my foot.
“Sorry.”
He smiles at me.
It squirms its way through me. I feel like I’m a teenager all over again.
“Can I get you some drinks?” the waiter asks handing us our menus.
Jake looks at me.
“Beer,” I say.
“Two buds,” Jake orders.
The waiter disappears to get our drinks while I stare at Jake, surprised.
“What?” he asks, seeing my staring.
“Um … nothing.” My face flames.
“No, go on,” he urges, leaning forward, he rests his arms on the table.
“Well, I just thought you didn’t drink anymore – you know – rehab.” I say the word quietly, like it’s a really inappropriate word to be saying.
He lets out a laugh. “Drinking was never the problem, Tru.”
“Oh.”
He leans back in his seat. “That’s the press for you. But still, everything in moderation for me nowadays. Except drugs – they’re completely off the menu of course, but my cigarettes have increased.”
“When did you start smoking?” I ask, wondering if it was after he got clean as a replacement for the drugs, as he never was interested in smoking when we were teenagers.
He scrunches up his face in thought. “When I started in the band.”
A while then.
“Bad habit.”
“It is,” he agrees. “But not as bad as being an addict.”
I instantly tense.
He smiles. “Relax, Tru. It’s not the worst thing in the world I’ve ever said, and my drug counsellor says I’m supposed to be open about these things.”
Okay…
“Was it horrible?”
“What? Rehab.”
“No – but I can’t imagine that was a great place to be. I meant being an addict.”
How can he be so together and so successful, but have been a drug addict? It doesn’t feel like the two should go together. But somehow in him, they did. I guess everyone has a weakness.
He starts to drum his fingers on the table. “When it was good it was great, and when it was bad – it was really f*ckin’ bad. I reached the point when all the highs – which were basically every day for me, were all bad. And that was when it was time to get clean.”
“I’m glad you’re clean,” I say.
“Me too,” he smiles.
The waiter comes over with our beers.
“Are you both ready to order, or do you need more time?”
“Oh, sorry, I haven’t even looked at my menu, yet,” I say opening it up.
“Give us another five minutes, man.”
“So what were you thinking?” I ask looking down at the menu.
“Pizza.”
I glance up at his smiling face.
“Ha, ha, funny. They do serve pasta and salad here as well you know.” I pull my tongue out at him.
“I remember.”
I get the impression he remembers so much more than I could have hoped.
“Do you want to share?” I ask.
“Are you still greedy?”
“I was never greedy!” I say feigning outrage.
“You ate like a guy,” he laughs.
“Are you saying I was fat, Jake Wethers?” I quirk my eyebrow at him.
“No. You were always a skinny little thing, I could never actually figure out where it all went.”
“My ass. It still does.”
“From what I remember of your ass it was always nice, I’ll have to check it out later – I’ll let you know what I think.”
“So you didn’t already check it out coming down the stairs?”
I can’t believe I just said that!
It’s him, he seems to bring out a new found flirty, naughty side of me.
He grins at me, it’s a sexy smile. My cheeks heat and so do other parts of my anatomy.
“So are we sharing or not?” I ask, looking back down at my menu.
“We’re sharing.”
Why do I always feel like there’s an undertone to everything he’s saying to me?
But he is a renowned womaniser, so flirting is probably just part of his genetic make-up nowadays.
“Okay, so we have the exotic choice of – Posh Pizzas, The Hut Classics or Make Our Own,” I say as I pour my eyes over the menu.
“I was thinking we could have our old favourite ...”
“Oh my god,” I look up at him laughing. “The Blazin’…
“Inferno,” he finishes.
“I haven’t had that pizza in years!” I’m still laughing.
“Me either,” he laughs. “So that’s what we’re having?”
“Definitely,” I beam.
I close my menu and that’s when I realise he’d never actually opened his.
He remembered the pizza without even seeing it on the menu.
I take a swig of my beer.
Jake signals the waiter over, who has been loitering by the doorway for the last few minutes, and he orders our pizza.
Jake picks his beer up and has a drink.
It’s still dead in here. Not one single person has turned up for a pizza.
“It’s good that it’s quiet in here tonight,” I say echoing my earlier thoughts. “No fans to hassle you.”
He smiles. “I paid for it to be quiet.”
“Huh?”
“I bought the place for the evening.”
“You bought Pizza Hut?”
“Not Pizza Hut as a whole, Tru,” he grins. “Just this one, rented, for the evening.”
“Why?”
“So we wouldn’t be interrupted.”
“Oh.”
I can’t believe he rented out the whole of Pizza Hut so we could have dinner together here, because it was, once upon a time long ago, our place.
I know he can afford it, easily, but still, it’s crazy sweet.
“Where did Stuart take the car to?” I ask, just thinking of it now, and actually why he was waiting outside to take it.
“He just took it back to the hotel. He’ll bring it back when we need it.”
“And your security guy?”
“He’ll be at the top of the stairs.”
“Oh.”
“Hey, do you remember those matching friendship bracelets you made us with that kit your mom bought you that one Christmas?” he says putting his beer down.
I wonder what made him think of that.
“Oh God, I really was lame.” I cover my face with my hands, my cheeks burning.
“I thought they were sweet.”
I stare at him surprised.
“Do you still have yours?” he asks.
I do. But if I tell him I always kept mine because it was just one of the many things that reminded me of him and I could never part with, might sound as lame as it actually is.
“I still have mine,” he says as if reading my thoughts.
“You do?” Now I’m surprised.
“Yes.”
“Where is it?” I look at his wrist.
“In LA at my house – so do you still have yours?”
“Yes.” My voice is lower.
“Where is it?”
“Here, in the UK, in my tiny flat.”
He laughs. “You’ll have to show it to me later.” His expression suddenly turns serious.
He wants to come in my flat? My stomach starts doing acrobats across the room.
“Okay.” I cough nervously, my face flaming.
“How are your Mom and Dad?” he asks.
“Good,” I smile. “They still live in Manchester, in the same house.”
“You’re kidding?” he grins.
I shake my head, no. “And my dad’s teaching music now to underprivileged kids.”
“He always was a good man. Is it a charity based organisation he works for?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s it called?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to donate some money to it. If it wasn’t for your dad, I would have never picked up a guitar let alone learned how to play one, and I wouldn’t be where I am right now. I owe him a lot.”
I fill with pride for my dad. He is the best.
“It’s called Tuners for Youths.”
“Cool,” he says. “I’ll make the arrangements tomorrow.”
“My dad will be made up when I tell him.”
“You don’t need to tell him the donation was from me.”
I kink my eyebrow in confusion at him.
“I don’t want him thinking I’m being a flashy bastard.”
“He wouldn’t think that, he’s really proud of you.”
He looks up, surprised. “He is?”
I nod. “He follows your career, like I do. Probably more so – you know how he is about music.”
“I bet he wasn’t proud of the drugs … and women.” His lips turn down at the corners.
I have the urge to reach out and smooth my finger across them, but I don’t, instead I reach out and put my hand on his arm.
I see his eyes go to it, then he lifts them back to mine.
“He was worried about you, like I was. But he’s really proud of everything you’ve achieved. And to be honest, I think he was quite impressed with all the models and actresses you’ve been pictured with,” I laugh, trying to come off as light-hearted, but if anything my own words sting me.
Moving my arm away, I pick my beer up. “I bet your mum’s real proud of you.” I take a swig of my beer.
He shrugs. Glancing down at his beer, he starts to pick at the label. “She’s proud … sure, she just worries a lot – you know.”
“I know, but she’s your mum and it’s to be expected,” I say.
I know Susie feels like she let Jake down over the years. That she should have forced his dad out of their lives. Then what happened to Jake never would’ve happened.
I overheard Susie talking to my mum one day. I never told Jake though.
He shrugs again, and I get the feeling there’s something more, but I don’t press it, and then the waiter appears with our pizza.
After that we just fall into conversation like we’ve never been apart.
We talk school and childhood memories.
He tells me stuff about the band and his label, which bands he has signed to it.
I tell him about my time at university, living with Simone and my job as a music journalist at the magazine.
But mainly we just talk music, like we used to. Recent and old stuff. And Jakes music.
I haven’t spoken to anyone about music in the way I’m speaking to Jake now. Not in all my time at university while studying it, and not even in all the time I’ve worked at the magazine.
It’s how we used to talk about it, with real passion. And to me Jake was and is music, it’s what glued us together, and now it’s like a dam is opening back up and everything Jake is just flowing out of me.
One thing I don’t talk about it is Will. And he doesn’t ask.
I also notice he doesn’t mention Jonny. It must still be so raw for him to talk about.
I also notice he’s only had the one beer all night. I’m glad because he’s driving. I like that he’s being responsible. Because the Jake I’m used to seeing in the news, never appears responsible, despite all his success.
But the more time I spend with him, the more I feel like there are two Jake’s.
The one the world sees, and the one I’m getting to see here. The one I used to know.
I’ve kept light on the drink too. Funny, because earlier I thought I would need it to get me through the night. But not at all.
This is one of the best nights I have had in a long time.
We talk for hours, and when we’re finished, Jake calls Stuart to let him know he needs him to bring the car, then he pays the bill.
“Let me pay my half,” I press, as we walk to the exit.
He laughs. “No Tru. Just call it birthday present number one of twelve.”
“I owe you twelve birthday presents too, remember?”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. I’ll start collecting on them soon.”
And there it is, that flirty undertone again.
No wonder women are always throwing themselves at him. I’m having a pretty difficult time myself not doing just that.
Jake gestures for me to go first up the stairs.
“You still eat like a dude,” he says from behind me. “But your ass is definitely all woman.”
I gasp.
Pausing, I turn and look at him, agape.
“What?” he feigns innocence, stopping behind me, but I can see the look in his eyes and he’s close, so very close to me. “I told you I’d let you know what I thought of your ass, and I’m telling you it’s perfect. Even better than I remember.”
Eyes back front and I’m up those stairs quick march. My insides turning over with embarrassment and want.
Okay, there I’ve said it. I want Jake.
He’s beautiful and sexy, and flirty. And he’s a rock star. And he was my boy next-door. But of course nothing is ever going to happen.
Because he’s Jake Wethers … and I’m just Trudy Bennett.
And also I have a boyfriend, which is actually reason number one.
Stuart is there waiting with the James Bond car, just like Jake said he would be. His security guy in his car behind, ready to follow us.
The ride back to my place with Jake is a lot quieter than we were in the restaurant.
I’m not really sure why for him. But for me it’s because I feel sad that the night is over, more than likely I won’t ever see him again. Well apart from on the TV that is.
He’s pulls up outside my place way too quickly for my liking.
“Thanks for dinner,” I say taking off my seatbelt, turning in my seat. “I had a great time.”
“Me too.” His voice sounds deeper, huskier in the dark.
It does funny things to me.
I don’t want to get out of the car, I have that same feeling of loss I had when I was leaving him at the hotel, but at least then I knew I was seeing him tonight, but now the night’s over and I don’t have any reason to see him again.
“So, I guess I’ll go in, thanks again for the pizza and beer.”
I reach for the handle, just clicking open the door, when he says, “I’ll walk you to your door. Too many weirdo’s about in London. I want to make sure you get in okay.”
Pushing open the door, I smile to myself as I exit the car. Jake gets out at the same time. My front door is only thirty feet away, I hardly think anything is going to happen to me in thirty feet.
Jake walks me up my path, and I get that feeling of being a teenager again. Butterflies and giddiness. The way I would feel when I was crazy about him back then and, he would look at me and my insides would just go nuts.
I reach my door and fish my keys out of my bag.
Should I invite him in? I guess it would be rude not to. Even though Simone will die of heart failure when she sees him.
“Do you want to come in for a coffee?” I gesture.
He looks at my door, then at my face. “I’ve got an early start tomorrow. I really should get back to the hotel.”
A no then.
“Oh, okay, sure.” I try not to sound as disappointed as I feel.
Not very rock star sounding to need his sleep … Oh God … I was just blown out wasn’t I.
I’m so slow.
But it’s fine because I wasn’t inviting him in for anything other than coffee anyway. Obviously he doesn’t think I’m attractive at all. I mean he sleeps with anything with a pulse. But not me apparently. Not that I would have, but anyway, it doesn’t matter. He didn’t fancy me when we were younger, so why should it be any different now.
‘Because I’m not fourteen anymore. And I’m a little prettier than I used to be back then,’ shouts my inner self.
I suddenly feel like stamping my teenage foot and asking him just what’s wrong with me that I’m not good enough for him now, and why I wasn’t back then.
But I won’t obviously, because that would be way too weird and majorly embarrassing.
“Well, it was really great seeing you again. Surreal, but great.”
Did I just say surreal? Oh God.
He smiles at me, humour clear in his eyes. “Can I have your number? I don’t want to lose contact again.”
“Yes, of course!” My voice has gone way squeaky, totally giving me away. Traitor voice. And my heart is pounding at my ribs, threatening a break very soon.
Jake pulls his phone out of his pocket and I recite my phone number to him, watching as he types it in.
Adele starts to sing in my bag. As I look down, he lifts his phone, gesturing. “And now you have mine.”
I have Jake’s number!
I’m tapping out a happy number inside my head myself right now.
He suddenly leans close to me, lifting his hand, tucking my hair behind my ear, fingers tipping my jaw, he kisses my cheek.
I close my eyes, absorbing the feel and smell of him. Cigarettes, beer and aftershave.
“Seeing you again was way better than I ever thought it could be,” he murmurs.
What?
By the time my eyes are open, he’s already retreating down the path, heading to his car.
He stops near the bottom and turns back as if remembering something. “Oh, Tru, when I said earlier that you looked great, what I actually should have said was that you look beautiful,” he smiles. “I’ll call you soon.”
And then he’s back in his car, pulling away.
I let myself in my flat and fall back against the door, heart still pounding up a storm.
Then the very next thing I do is get my phone out and save Jake’s number to my contacts.