Jake throws his drink back and pours himself another out.
“Okay, how do you say, fuck?”
Jake shifts in his seat, then picks his cigarettes up, lighting on.
“Joder.” I take a sip of my drink, soothing my dry mouth.
“Joder,” Stuart copies. He’s doing quite well with the accent for a beginner.
“So how would you say, ‘fuck off asshole’?”
“Vete a la mierda gilipollas.”
Jake takes a long drag of his cigarette, and the smoke billows past me.
I let out a light cough.
“Fuck that’s a hard one!” Stuart laughs. “Say it again.”
“Vete … a la … mierda …. gilipollas,” I say slower.
Jake stubs his half-smoked cigarette out in the ashtray, and abruptly gets to his feet. “I’m off to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He strides away into the suite.
I look across at Stuart, confused. He lifts his eyebrows at me, shrugging.
I stay with Stuart for another ten minutes, finishing my drink, teaching him how to swear in Spanish, then I make an excuse about being tired, and head to my own suite.
I’m not tired at all, just confused as to Jake’s bad mood, unable to shake the feeling that for some reason, it’s me that he’s angry with.
Chapter Twelve
I’m sitting in the small audience at a TV studio in Copenhagen.
TMS are doing an unplugged show for a division of MTV which will be aired worldwide in a few days.
Everyone in the audience is a competition winner. The competition was put out by the station a few weeks back, so to win a ticket to see them perform like this is a big deal.
I’m lucky enough to be here because I know the band. Because I know Jake. And I’m also here to work too. But that aside, I don’t discount how very fortunate I am to be here.
The set is an hour long, and the guys are half-an hour in, playing acoustic mainly. Denny is off the drums, and is playing keyboard tonight. I didn’t even know he could play until now.
Jake is sitting on a stool, microphone in front of him, playing acoustic guitar, and Tom is playing rhythm. Smith’s not playing this show tonight.
Jake finishes up singing, ‘Microscopic’ another song off the ‘Creed’ album. The audience clap.
Jake pauses, lightly strumming his fingers over the strings, he breathes into the mic.
“Okay so I’m going back to song from our first ever album now. A good friend of mine told me that it’s her favourite of all the songs I’ve ever wrote, so tonight, I’m dedicating it to her.” He looks straight at me. “Trudy Bennett this one’s for you.”
I gulp down.
Me? He’s singing a song for me.
Shit.
I suddenly feel a little breathless. Then when he starts to sing ‘Through It All’, those hauntingly beautiful lyrics he once wrote, strumming his guitar, my heart starts to drum pure feeling in my chest.
And I feel a heavy mixture of emotions stream through me.
It is pin drop silent in here and I am spellbound to him.
I’m not the only one. Everyone in this room is eyes on Jake, and it’s in this exact moment, I truly see just to the level of power he has over people.
Mostly, over me.
I’m so totally mesmerised by him.
And so totally in lust with him.
And so totally screwed.
I have my notebook with me in my hand ready to make notes, but I can’t move. I can’t do anything except breathe.
Even when he finishes up the song, I’m still immobile.
And for the next half hour of the show, all I can do is watch Jake sing Watching as he makes every single woman in this room feel like he’s singing to her, that tonight she is the one he is taking home. She’s the one he’s going to share his bed with tonight.
And in this moment all I want, more than anything, is to be the one he chooses.
We stay backstage after the show and have some drinks with the staff. The talk is business, mostly about when the recording of the show will go out, and how they felt it went. The general consensus is everyone is really happy, but in all honesty, I’m barely listening.
Jake is entrancing tonight, more so than normal. And I’m struggling to keep my eyes off him. Something has changed since the show. There’s an almost physical charge there, flowing out of me and heat seeking onto him like a bloody missile.
So evident and tangible I’m sure people must be able to see it. I’m kind of worried he can.
I don’t know maybe it’s always been there, but now, it’s heightened somehow for some unknown reason. So I’m keeping my distance from him, staying in the safe zone for as long as I can, until this thing, whatever it is, goes or dies down at the very least.
Because right now I want Jake.
I just need to keep repeating my Will mantra.
I love Will. I love Will. I love Will.