September Rain Bk 2, Savor The Days Series (32 page)

I watched him talk with the guy from
the TV station. It was a short interview. The reporter
congratulated him on his engagement and then jumped into questions
about the changing music scene and asked Jakes’ opinion on the new
direction of Rock and Roll. There were so many different types of
sounds converging in 1994. New genres were birthed, and Analog
Controller seemed at the tip of it with their mingle of halted and
melodic vocals poured over hard rock and punk influences. When the
spotlight shut off, they asked Jake to spell out the name of the
band and the venue where they would be playing the next night. The
edited interview would air during the eleven o’clock
segment.

Once the reporter left, Jake
introduced me to Pierce, who didn’t look at all like I thought he
would. For one, his teeth weren’t pointed. They were bleached an
unnatural white. Second, he was much younger than I’d assumed. With
a name like Pierce, I imagined a balding, stuffed suit, but he had
spiky blond hair and Bermuda shorts. He asked me my name and where
I was from, and before I even answered, he launched into a
technical critique of the bands performance, telling Jake he should
consider playing a different guitar called an LTD, which lost me
right away. I loved watching Jake talk, though. And the way he
listened; with his eyebrows slightly crinkled and his full lips
resting in a subtle pucker. He was so engaged in everything—a
sponge wanting to soak up as much as he could whenever possible. As
he conversed with Pierce, more people approached, interrupting and
dragging his attention away. Soon Pierce was leaving, but the crowd
around the band—namely Jake—grew. He talked to each person, taking
their attentive questions and familiar postures in stride, though I
knew he didn’t like when strangers just threw their arms around
him. But it was his element; he shined so bright inside
it.

To pass the time, I made my way over
to the booth where the merchandise was being sold. Gary was there,
peddling merch, taking cash for tee shirts and passing out free
stickers to any girl he thought was cute.

Andrew, who had followed me over, eyed
him. “You know those cost a dollar each just to print.”

Gary, whose performance I completely
forgot to watch, looked confidently back. “It’s free advertising.
Besides, I’m keeping track. I’ll pay for’em.”

As Gary turned back to the line,
Andrew found me, setting his sight on a spot next to me. He was
staring at Avery who had seemingly appeared from nowhere. She
grinned at me, smelling of sweet smoke.

As Andrew walked over, Avery stepped
in front of me, meeting him half way.

He spoke right into her ear. Most of
what I caught were mumbles, but I clearly heard Andrew say, “I’m
going to tell him.”

Avery scoffed, “I should care because
. . . ?”

Andrew shook his head and made a slash
across his throat with his thumb. The message was clear: a no-vote
for poor Gary. My stomach plunged to my feet, taking my confidence
with it. That chick was already in the lead and she hadn’t even
played yet.

Those poisonous words crept
back in.
“Not yet.”

+++

It was so late by the time Jake was
done talking with all the new fans that we all just headed back to
the motel together.

Avery decided to take advantage of the
empty pool and the warm air, heading out for a night swim. I was
going to go with her, but Jake asked me to stay while the band
talked about Gary’s audition. He’d left a little while after Max
demanded that he stop giving away merchandise. He paid them, at
cost, for the stickers, and this upset both Andrew and Max because
every band knows that merchandise is where you make your money.
Club owners don’t always pay up at the end of the night, but fans
do. They want the souvenir concert tee and wrist band or sticker
for their binder. And that night, they’d made a killing—but that
was not the point. The point was that you don’t give merch away
unless you can afford to and Analog Controller could
not.

We were in a circle. Max and Andrew
sat in the only two chairs at the small table near the window and
Jake and I were sitting together on the side of the bed to face
them. I pulled my legs under me, settling in to listen though I
knew what was going to happen.

“Gary’s out.” Max stated, swirling an
open bottle over his lap. “You don’t walk into a conditional
situation and start making decisions without consulting the
band.”

Jake nodded, but said
nothing.

“Sorry to say it, man, but I agree.”
Andrew looked to Jake, whose hand was moving along my thigh. “I
know you don’t want a girl in this and I get that. But, he was
wrong, dude. So, it’s either Angelica or you keep doing what you’ve
been doing.”

Jake turned to look at me. He took a
deep breath. “What did you think of the show?”

“It was fantastic. But you—you’re
vocals were so much stronger. It surprised me. I didn’t realize how
much you were holding back to play lead.”

“Yeah, man, I got a lot of comments
from other bands, asking if you were taking voice lessons.” Max
chuckled. Andrew joined him.

“Potheads” Jake almost smiled. “I
wasn’t restrained. I didn’t have to worry about anything else
because playing rhythm was easy. I could focus on
singing.”

“You focused the shit out of that
crowd.” Andrew saluted with his water bottle.

Jake sighed. “Basically, what I’m
hearing is that if Angelica can play half as good live as she did
in rehearsal, she’s in?”

“She’s in.” Andrew
repeated.

“And if she doesn’t give our shit
away.” Max added.

+++

I held Jakes’ hand on the way to my
room. He was quiet, his shoulders set noticeably lower than a few
minutes ago. Once we were inside, he coolly sat on the bed, holding
his head.

“You’re taking this awfully well.” The
sarcasm was supposed to distract him, but he just sat
there.

“Do you ever get that feeling like
something is about to happen?”

“No. I’m always surprised.” I thought
he’d see the irony and laugh, but he stayed quiet. When Jake raised
his head, I was shocked by the stress in his face. “You just had
one of your biggest shows ever. You’re signing with a record label
. . . What is going on with you?”

“I’ve had this knot in my gut for the
past month and I can’t figure it out.”

“It’s probably nerves about all the
changes that are happening. It’s nothing.”

“Or maybe it’s everything.”

I took a deep breath. The mood should
have been buoyant. Happy. But Jake was a ball of stress. Those two
words passed through my mind again and I felt frustration cover me
like a blanket. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know . . .” He looked
down.

I took my hand from his
knee and sat back, irritated. “You know, but maybe you don’t want
to say it. You’ve been stressing since you told me about that girl.
What I don’t get is why?” Those two words played on repeat in my
head.
‘Not yet . . . Not yet . . . Not
yet.’

He nodded, picking at a string on the
motel bed spread. I waited for him to say something to break the
silence that felt very intense. He just kept pulling at the threads
of the blanket. It wasn’t like Jake to be so quiet. Not with me. We
talked about everything. And that silence he was emitting felt like
it spoke volumes, like he was trying to tell me something he
couldn’t say, something I didn’t want to hear.

“Not yet.”

I huffed, “Do you want my permission
to fuck her?”

His head snapped up. I saw a second of
outright shock before his eyes blazed. “What the hell kind of thing
is that to say to me?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” I
was just as shocked. I’d never spoken to him like that before. And
asking the question out loud made me realize how ridiculous it
sounded, but there was no other explanation that I could
see.

He grabbed my hand from my lap and
pulled it towards him. “I just asked you to marry me and you’re
jealous? Over somebody you’ve never even met?”

I had to scoot closer to keep from
falling over. “I don’t know why I said it. This isn’t supposed to
be about me. I’m sorry.”

He kept pulling until he had my hand
behind his back. I was cinched to his side by his unrelenting grip.
“Sit in my lap.” He ordered.

I climbed up on his legs.

“Facing me.” He directed, and released
my hand so I could turn to straddle him.

Jake’s flat eyes stared up at me.
“Now, kiss me.”

I leaned down. He didn’t move at all,
didn’t lean in or close his eyes. He just let me plant a soft peck
on his stilled mouth. I retracted, my heart pounding at his
non-response.

He sighed, taking a long blink,
setting his hands at my neck. There was a challenge in his eyes
when he opened them. “That’s not doing it for me.”

I felt tears pricking at the backs of
my eyes and blinked, focusing on the way Jakes gaze was suddenly
blazing with the dark fire I loved. My heartbeat slowed and kicked
up again, not with fear or irritation, but with desire. The man had
me thrumming on all cylinders with a simple look. “What do you
want?”

One side of his mouth quirked up,
though his expression remained serious. “The world is full of
beautiful girls, Angel. California is said to have the most. I’ve
heard the songs, so I know.”

He tilted his head, “I know
it’s not easy to be the one waiting for me to give you the
attention you deserve. I’m sorry you have to do that.” He palmed my
cheek. “But that is part of what I do and I
need
you to understand. None of
those girls matter to me. You’re my beauty, my everything, my
soon-to-be wife. So fucking act like it.” He smacked my backside.
“That’s what I want.”

35

—Angel

Clanging metal echoes off the walls of
my cell as the door closes. The mattress at my back is so thin,
it’s feels as if I’m laying directly on the unforgiving metal
frame. The sides of my throat stick on each swallow. Today’s
session has left it parched and sore.

When my dinner is delivered, I thank
the guard on the other side of the small window. I’m thinking of
Avery—probably sitting in a corner somewhere, curled up and quiet,
resolutely present even though I can’t see her—as I walk over to
the open bathroom area to shovel the shit they call food into the
toilet and flush.

I don’t want to think about food. I
want to stay inside that room with Jake, holding him. But there is
no way I am going to give up that night. I’ll tell them anything
else. Everything. Except my last good night.

I can hear his soft, sweet
voice in my ears, feel his touch.

+++

“So fucking act like it.” Jake smacked
my backside. “That’s what I want.”

The room was quiet as I contemplated.
What was Jake trying to tell me? He wasn’t threatening to dump me
for another woman. He didn’t even mention that other guitarist, the
chick auditioning to be in his band. I was the one who thought
about her all the time. I was the one who brought her up and made
him angry. Jake wasn’t trying to segue into asking for a threesome,
or any other stupid demeaning thing like I always feared he would.
So what was he trying to tell me? What was I doing
wrong?

“Angel,” he spoke softer, kneading my
stinging backside. “I think we can both concede that you’re a
complex woman. I’ve never pretended to fully understand you, but
you have always understood me, baby. I need you to do that for me,
right now. Understand that this isn’t about anyone but me, and give
me what I need. Please.”

I looked into his wide hazel eyes and
something clicked. Jake was commanding me to have confidence in him
and his love for me. He was telling me to believe in myself and in
us, because he couldn’t always be the one to do it. He needed me to
rise up and be for him what he was for me: solace, a place to
rest.

Jakes’ life—his choices—they were
exhausting. Being in his band meant he was constantly
chasing—whether it was a song, a moment, a performance, or an
audience—he was actively seeking to make his dreams a reality. And
Jake was the one who chased me most of the time. He loved doing it,
it was in his nature, but he needed me to chase him, too. And the
second I got that . . . Jake was Houdini, again. He made the
insecurity disappear and brought out that feeling of value; the one
that would help me take control and make love to him until the bad
feelings went away, until he forgot that he was ever worried about
the future. He wanted me to make him forget everything but us and
he did not want to ask me for it. He wanted me to put myself in his
position, to understand what he needed, and react.

I took his face in my hands and
claimed his mouth, tasting him with renewed fervor. His hands
gripped tightly around my waist as my fingers traced the planes of
his chest. He groaned when my fingernails scratched his back and
shoulders underneath his plain cotton shirt.

I peeled my top off. Next was his. I
leaned back on his knees and unbuttoned his jeans, but didn’t go
further. Instead, I stood, staring at him as I undressed. Jake did
the same, his eyes never leaving mine.