The Mighty Storm (The Storm 1)

Do I believe that?

Right now I’m struggling to consider anything about the situation as a whole, because I can’t get my mind past the image of him in bed with her.

Kaitlyn ‘Bitch’, as I refer to her, has pictures of Jake in bed from that night. They weren’t clear pictures, kind of dark, taken with a camera phone I’m guessing. And he looked sort of asleep in them. Well his eyes were closed. But that doesn’t mean anything. My eyes are closed in tons of pictures because I always blink when the flash goes off.

But the point is, she was lying next to him in bed. Her face beside his – in bed.

Her in bed with Jake. That’s all I need to know, to tell me everything I already knew.

Also there is one of her sat on Jake’s lap in what is apparently the hotel bar. You know the one he was sat pining over me in, waiting for me in after our fight, yeah that bar.

So details of my life, the life I shared with Jake, and his betrayal have been splashed all over the news for the world to see.

My pain is up for public consumption. And it’s the worst kind of torture.

I’m not a public person. Of course I knew what being with Jake entailed, I just never foresaw this. And now I know, with absolute certainty I’m not cut out for the type of life he leads. His life belongs to the whole world. I don’t want that for myself.

Maybe Kaitlyn Bitch did me a favour. Because at least I now know what life with Jake really consists of. It’s best I get out now, early on, before I got in too deep.

Well that’s what I’m telling myself anyway. My heart is telling me I was already in way too deep to begin with.

So for five days I’ve been hiding at my folks, letting my dad deal with the press at the door and on the phone, and the paps hanging around outside waiting to get a picture of me.

I hate to bring it to their doorstep, but I just couldn’t go back to my flat – that would have meant dealing with it alone. I know I have Simone there, but it wouldn’t have been fair to pull her into this, especially not when she’s with Denny. That already ties her up in it enough as it is.

So I’m letting my dad kick paparazzi butt, while I hide in the house, working on my column to keep busy.

My mum and dad have been great these last five days. I couldn’t have coped without them, well not that I’m actually coping in any way … more coasting.

My mum has even managed to refrain from an ‘I told you so’ about Jake, and my dad … well, he hasn’t said it outright to me, but I think he believes Jake is telling the truth about Kaitlyn Bitch. And my dad thinking that Jake is telling the truth makes me wobble a little if I’m being totally honest.

But what’s making me falter just that little bit more is the whole ‘they’ve been having an affair’ story. Because honestly, a story is what I believe that to be.

She’s lied for sure about some of the times she said she was with Jake. They just aren’t possible, because he was with me.

One of them was when everyone still thought Jake was in LA, but he wasn’t, he was in London with me. It was straight after his dad died and he got the jet over here to be with me. Because he needed me.

Kaitlyn Bitch is claiming to the press they spent the night together in a hotel in LA, that he flew her in. She even has her friend backing her up, saying she was with Kaitlyn Bitch when he called.

I could go public and out it as a lie, but I don’t want to be pulled into the press any more than I am being, and really, what’s the point. Ultimately it doesn’t erase the fact that I caught him in bed with her. So whether they were having a full blown affair, or it was just a one nighter that she’s embellishing for the press, it’s irrelevant.

He betrayed me.

Apparently, Jake is suing the paper that ran the story, the one which bought the rights to it.

Simone told me. Denny told her.

Really I don’t care what Jake does.

I’m done with it all. I’m done with him.

I just want to get his little game called New York over and done with, so I can move on with my life.

“I can do this, Vicky,” I infer, not really sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself in this moment. “I’ll be fine. I’m done with Jake. I’ll go to New York, cover the show, then come straight home, and I’ll finally be free of it all.”

Free of him. Well, once the bio’s done that is.

“Do you want me to come to with you? Moral support, and also I can kick his ass for you if you want.”

I smile at the sentiment. “Thanks for the offer, but if anyone were to be kicking Jake’s ass it’d be me. You’ve got enough on at the magazine at the moment. I’ll be fine. Just in and out for the show. I’ll arrange my flights so I’m there for a day max. Do my job, and then straight back home.”

I hear her exhale down the line. “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, sweetheart. This is Jake we’re talking about.”

“I know. But I’ve had time away from him, and I’m feeling stronger now. I’m not going back to him, no matter what games he plays. I’ll do my job, and then he’s out of my life for good.”

“As long as you know what you’re doing.”

“I do.”

“Tru … look, this is just me playing devil’s advocate here, as your friend … but have you considered the possibility that maybe Jake is telling the truth. I know you found him in bed with that trampy girl, but he’s been so adamant about it, and her selling her story to the press about the whole torrid affair thing, and him suing them all, big guns, it just makes you think a little, you know.”

“I’ve considered it,” I concede.

Minutes ago in fact. And every other single minute of the day before that.

“But I just…” I sigh rubbing my face. “I just don’t know anything anymore Vicky, except for the fact that I found him in bed with her.”

I can’t shut my eyes without fear of seeing it on playback.

“But sometimes the picture doesn’t show the true facts – you know.” I can mentally feel her nudging me. “Maybe you should talk to him. Listen to what he has to say. He’s obviously desperate to see you, my darling, and he’s struggling, that’s plain for everyone to see.”

Jake wasn’t going to do the show at TD Garden after I left him, but somehow the guys got him on stage.

I haven’t seen the show, this is all what I’m hearing from Simone when I’ve talked to her on the phone, not that I asked for any details, but she felt the need to share, and she’s getting her feed direct from Denny, so I’m taking it as read.

But from what Simone said, Jake literally went on stage, sang straight through, number after number, no Jake banter, no nothing. He finished the set, walked off stage, giving no encore and got Dave to take him straight back to the hotel. That’s pretty much how the last few shows since have been as well.

And the worst thing about it is some of his fans are blaming his behaviour on me for leaving him. Can you fucking believe it! Some are blaming the skank I found in his bed too. But even so, it’s just more crap to add to the pile. Another sharp prod to remind me of why I could never be with Jake again.

Also, Simone told me Jake’s clean.

She said he hasn’t used since I left. Apparently he got in touch with his sponsor. He isn’t going back to rehab, he’s doing it with the support of his sponsor and drug counsellors, so at least one good thing has come out of this whole continuing nightmare.

I’m glad he’s clean. More than glad, I’m relieved. I might be pissed at Jake, but I don’t want him hurting himself on that rubbish.

“Honestly, talking to Jake about any of it is the last thing I want to do right now,” I say to Vicky. “The extent of my vocab with him will be about the tour and nothing more. I just want to go to New York, cover the show and then come back to London and get straight back to work. I just need to get back to normal – you know.”

“I do, and I’ll support you however I can.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, so let’s get this New York ball rolling, the quicker it's done, the quicker you’re out – right? So do you want me to call Stuart and let him know you’re going, or do you want to call him?”

“I’ll call him,” I reply without hesitation.

I haven’t spoken to Stuart since I left. I miss him tons.

“Do you have his number there, Vicky?” I don’t have anyone’s numbers. They were all stored on my phone. The phone Jake broke.

I haven’t got a replacement yet. There hasn't been an opportunity to do so, and there’s no real point in having one at the moment. I’d only get calls I don’t want to receive. I do miss hearing Adele though.

Vicky gives me Stuart’s number, and I hang up from her.

I feel nervous calling Stuart. Calling him is the closest thing to calling Jake.

“Stuart Benson?” His lovely warm voice comes down the line and I feel my lip instantly wobble.

“Stuart, hi, it’s Tru.”

“Oh…um…hi.”

Okay, so that’s not the response I was hoping for. I guess he hasn’t missed me like I’ve missed him. And there was me thinking we were good friends. I’m so crap at judging people.

“I was just calling to, uh … let you know that I’ll be coming to cover the show in New York.”

Silence.

Is he mad at me or something?

“That’s great,” he finally says.

He doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s great.

“Stuart, is everything okay? Are you angry with me or something?”

“No, of course not gorgeous.” Well that sounded the most Stuart-like sentence I’ve heard this whole phone conversation.

“It’s just something,” he adds, emphasising on the ‘something’ and my brain clicks in.

“Jake’s there with you isn’t he?”

“Yes, I’m in the car, with – something and I figured, you wouldn’t want – you know.”

“Who the fuck are you being so cryptic with?” I hear Jake’s voice loud and clear in the background.

My heart starts to hurt just hearing his voice.

Oh God. I miss him so much.

No I don’t. I hate him.

I think.

I don’t know.

Crap.

Look at me. I hear his voice, and my head turns to mush. How the hell am I going to manage going to New York and seeing him for a whole day.

No, I’ll be fine. I can do it for Vicky and the magazine. That’s all that matters.

“I’m talking with my boyfriend,” Stuart says to him. “Mind your own fuckin’ business.”

“Since when have you got a boyfriend?” I can almost hear the pause and Jake’s mind working, and I just know what’s coming next. “Is that Tru on the phone?”

My heart stops dead in my chest.

“No,” Stuart says to him. “I’m gonna have to go lover,” he says down the line to me, “my ass of a boss won’t let me – Jesus Christ, Jake! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I hear the tussle, and Stuart’s voice fading away, as Jake wrestles the phone from off him.