Wethering the Storm (The Storm 2)

“Hmm,” I murmur, cheeks flaming. Jake may have no problem talking sex in front of his friends, but I do.

“Anyway, I was just calling because Zane has managed to fix up a spot for Vintage supporting Raine tonight. Their support pulled out on them last minute. I wondered if you fancied going to watch them?”

Raine is a hugely successful indie band in LA with a massive local following. Vintage is the band who supported TMS at Madison Square Garden, the ones who won the radio contest. I really love their sound, and I mentioned to Jake that I thought they definitely had something. He listened to some of their stuff—he hadn’t been paying attention at the show for many reasons—and liked what he heard, so he sent Zane to New York to check them out while we were on holiday.

Zane loved them and offered them a deal on the spot. They are now signed to the label and are in LA recording their first album.

I like the fact that I pointed out their potential to Jake, and he listened to me. I love that he cares about my opinions on these things.

“You’re asking if I want to watch a live band I encouraged you to sign? Hmm, let me think…”

“Pick you up at seven?” he says, chuckling.

“Are you not coming home first?”

“No, we’ve got a good flow going at the moment, getting some new stuff down. I’ll shower and change at the studio, and then I’ll come by and pick you up.”

“Thinking on it, why don’t I just ask Dave to bring me to the show, and I’ll meet you there. He’ll be coming anyway, won’t he? So it just makes sense.”

Even though things aren’t as “follow Jake around” crazy fanwise in LA, he still has Dave or Ben with us when we go out. I get the feeling they’re around more for me than him, though. I think he worries about my safety.

“Yeah, okay, good idea,” he agrees.

Jake tells me where the show is, so I jot the address down and hang up. I stare at my computer screen for a few more minutes, then close it with a sigh. I head into my dressing room area to figure out what to wear tonight.

I’m seated in the back of the car and Dave is driving us to the venue. The show is at some hip club in downtown LA.

Getting my mirror out of my clutch, I check my hair and makeup. I opted for hair down and curly, dark smoky eyes, and pink lip gloss. I thought the makeup should match the outfit. I’m wearing my new black knee-length stretch-leather skirt and white off-the-shoulder sheer silk crepe top.

As the top is sheer, I avoided wearing any of my new lacy bras, instead going with my white bra with gentle detail on it, which covers all the important bits. On my feet I’m wearing my new Christian Louboutin peep-toe studded black heels. They are sexy as hell. I know Jake will totally approve of them.

Dave pulls the car around the back of the venue, into the reserved parking area. I see Jake’s Aston Martin.

I climb out of the car and follow Dave to the metal door, leading into the back entrance of the club. He bangs his fist on it a couple of times.

A burly guy opens the door and greats Dave like they know each other well.

Dave gestures me through the door first, then I wait to follow him.

He leads me down a corridor, through a door, then another, and then we’re in the club.

Looking to the left I see people setting up the stage, preparing for Vintage, who are due to play their set in just under an hour. There’s music playing provided by the resident DJ, and people are on the dance floor already.

I spot Jake standing at the bar, drinking a bottle of beer, looking his ever-gorgeous self, wearing his blue Led Zeppelin “Song Remains the Same” T-shirt, slim-fitted bleached, ripped jeans, and black motorcycle boots.

He looks as hot as hell. And he is all mine.

Ben’s standing off to the side by the bar, with what looks to be a soft drink. Leaving me, Dave goes over to join him.

At the bar with Jake is a blond guy. A very good-looking blond guy. He looks to be about the same height as Jake, and he’s wearing a white Oxford shirt, which he fills out with no problem, and gunmetal grey trousers. He screams urbane sophistication, the complete and utter contrast of Jake’s bad-boy rock-star image.

Jake’s face lights up at my approach. Then I see his eyes move down my body, and a frown mars his perfect face.

Oh no. He hates my outfit.

Feeling instantly self-conscious, tucking my clutch under my arm, I run my hands down my skirt and pick up my pace to him.

“Hey,” I say when I reach him.

He slides his hand around my waist. Pulling me close, he plants a kiss on my lips.

“You hate my outfit,” I whisper under his mouth.

“No, I just hate that every man in this place can see your tits through it,” he growls, kissing me one more time before releasing me.

Shit. I thought I looked nice. I guess not.

Turning to the man beside him, Jake says, “Tru, I’d like you to meet Zane. He’s the VP at the label. Zane, this is the future Mrs. Wethers.”

Zane smiles. Smoldering chocolate-brown eyes meet mine. “Great to finally meet you, Tru.” He offers his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Taking my hand, he lifts it to his lips and kisses it.

“I hope he was saying mostly complimentary things,” I say through my now-dry mouth, sliding a glance in Jake’s direction.

“All complimentary.” Zane smiles, releasing my hand. “You’re just as beautiful as Jake described.”

Just not in tonight’s outfit, apparently.

Zane’s smooth. Very smooth. But not in a slimy way. More in an “I’m well practiced at getting women into my bed and they leave very satisfied” kind of way. The guy screams confidence and awesome sex. Just like Jake.

“Where the fuck have you been, ass-face?” Jake says over my head.

Turning, I see Tom sauntering toward us.

“Nowhere. Hey, Tru,” he says, turning his eyes toward me. “Nice top.” His eyes flicker down to my chest, lingering longer than necessary.

“Stop staring at my fiancée’s tits,” Jake growls.

Fuck. Thanks, Tom.

“Hey, I’m a guy…,” he protests, “and they’re just there on display, what do expect me to do? Awesome rack, Tru, seriously awesome. I’m real glad you decided to put them on show tonight. You really should show them off more often.”

“Do you want me to break your face?” Jake says, half joking.

At least I think he is.

Pulling my clutch up to cover my chest, I say, “Haven’t you got better things to be doing, Tom? Like finding your next doggie bag to take home, rather than staring at something you can never have?”

“Ooh, harsh!” Tom slaps his hand over his heart.

“I like you more and more by the minute, Tru.” Zane grins at me. “What are you drinking?”

“I’ll get these,” Jake says. “Your usual, baby?”

“Yes, please.”

“Tom, you want a beer?”

Tuning out the guys, I glance around the club. It’s a nice place. A little grungy, but definitely somewhere I would have hung out back home.

I notice many eyes looking in our direction. Mostly at Jake. Well, all at Jake. Most of them don’t even have the decency to look away when they see I’ve caught them staring at my husband-to-be.

Nice.

“Thanks,” I say as Jake hands me my margarita.

“So she blew you out?” I catch Zane saying to Tom.

“No.”

“The fact you went back there to try your luck with her, and you’re out here with us, definitely says she did, man,” Jake says with a smile.

“I never said I went to try my luck. I went to offer my support.”

Jake laughs. “The only support you would have been offering her was up against a wall.”

“What’s this?” I say, taking a sip of my drink. “Tom got rejected by a woman?” I give Tom a mock look of shock.

“Yep,” Jake replies, flashing wide eyes at me. “He tried to get into Lyla’s pants, and being the smart girl she is, she blew him out like a candle.”

Lyla is the ridiculously pretty lead singer of Vintage, and apparently, a very smart girl indeed.

“Shut up, fuck-face, she didn’t blow me out. I would’ve had to try something for that to happen. Not that it ever would. Women can’t say no to the cat.”

“Wow, man, in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never had a girl say no to you,” Jake says, ignoring Tom’s defensiveness. “Wait ’til Denny hears this.” Jake laughs. “Actually, I might ring him now.” He reaches for his phone.

“For fuck’s sake!” Tom groans, grabbing his beer.

Zane pats him on the back, keeping a straight face. “Don’t sweat it, man, it happens to the best of us. Never to me, but I totally feel for you.” Zane cracks up laughing.

“I like Lyla,” I pitch in. I’ll get the twat back for the top comment before. “She seems like a great girl. Really attractive. Smart. Shame for you, Tom, being blown out like that.” I smirk at him.

“Jesus Christ! The lot of you are doing my fuckin’ head in! She was a nonstarter. I don’t put the effort in for a woman. I don’t need to. There are plenty more willing to step up to the plate.” He nods in the direction of some open gawkers. “On that note, I’ll catch you fuckers later. Tru,” he says, eyes going straight to my chest, “a pleasure as always. I hope to see you in that top again soon.”

“Fuck off, Tom,” Jake snaps.

Backing up, grinning, Tom winks at Jake and heads in the direction of the waiting girls.

Needing a reprieve, I ask Jake, “Where is the bathroom?”

“Through the archway.” My eyes follow his pointing finger.

I put my drink on the bar, place a loving kiss on his lips, and head to the bathroom.

I’ve just sat on the toilet to take a pee, when I hear them come into the bathroom, laughing and talking.

“Oh my God, did you see what she was wearing?”

“I know. She looks like a hooker. A see-through top! And what about that skirt? I thought leather skirts went out with Pretty Woman.”

I glance down at my leather skirt, which is currently sitting around my thighs, and my face starts to prickle.

“She is so totally batting out of her league with him. How the fuck did she ever manage to get a rock on her finger? I’ll never know. Definitely not because of her dog-ugly face. Maybe she’s got a magic vagina!” She laughs loudly at her own joke.

I twist my engagement ring around my finger.

“I heard they grew up together,” the other girl says, “and that he’s apparently into her big-time. Always has been. She’s the love of his life, and that’s why he never settled down with anyone. Or so I heard.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. This is Jake Wethers we’re talking about. He might be tripping on the English bitch now, but give him a few more weeks, and she’ll be gone.”

“You think?”

“Yep. If Jake was going to settle down, it wouldn’t be with someone like her.”