Jake Forever (Jaked Book 3)

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Jake Forever (Jaked Book 3) Page 22

by Sabrina Stark


  It didn't.

  Had Jake even gotten my message? And if he had, why wasn't he calling me back?

  I was so lost in my thoughts that it took me a moment to catch Anthony's next words. "Oh, by the way, Jake called."

  Jolted back to reality, I said, "What? When?"

  "Around four."

  "Five hours ago? Why didn't you say something?"

  "Hey, don't be pissed," he said. "It's not like we could call you."

  Through gritted teeth, I reminded him, "Only because you had my phone."

  Anthony nodded. "Exactly."

  "But why didn't you tell me in person?"

  "I did. Just now."

  Why was I wasting my time arguing about this? Jake had actually called. That was good news. Right?

  I mean, he wasn't calling to tell me to pack my bags. Was he?

  I leaned forward to ask, "What did he say?"

  Anthony reached into his pocket and pulled out a wadded napkin. He tossed it in my direction and said, "He said he doesn't have his phone, left it in his car or something. Wanted you to call him at that number."

  "So you talked to him?"

  "Nah," Anthony said. "He left a message."

  Confused, I looked down to my phone. "But there were no messages. I checked."

  "Right," Anthony said, "because I got them for you." He reached for another slice of pizza. "There was this other one from your dentist, says you're due for a cleaning or something."

  Right now, I didn't care one bit about dental work. All I cared about was Jake.

  I was dying to call him back, like now. But my brothers were still eating. I didn't want to be that girl, the one who ditched her dinner companions to jump the instant a guy called.

  But this wasn't just any guy. It was Jake. And we'd parted on such awful terms.

  Trying to be subtle, I picked up my phone and checked the time. Mentally, I added a half-hour to eat, an hour to visit, and then what? It was a Saturday night. What if they wanted to watch a movie or something?

  Maybe I could Jake give a quick call, and arrange to talk later?

  Steve's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Just call him. We don't care."

  I perked up. "You sure? You won't be insulted or anything?"

  "Shit, it would take a lot more than that to insult us," he said, reaching for the TV remote.

  Well, there was that.

  He started flipping through the channels and stopped three channels in. He looked to Anthony and grinned. "Kung fu."

  Anthony gave a slow nod. "Yeah. We could do that."

  A second later, they were lost to everything, well, everything except for the ninja-looking guys, scaling the side of what looked like an ancient monastery.

  Soon, I was in the bedroom with the door shut. I called the unfamiliar phone number and waited, praying that Jake would answer.

  Finally, he answered with an unenthused, "Hey."

  I froze. The greeting wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy, was it?

  My heart sank. Maybe I'd be packing my things, after all.

  Chapter 46

  Clutching my cell phone, I hesitated. "Jake?"

  Instantly, his voice warmed. "Luna."

  I gave a weak laugh. "You weren't expecting anyone else, were you?"

  "Actually, I was."

  My face fell. "Oh."

  "Not like that," he said. "Baby, I am so glad you called."

  I let out a long, relieved breath. "Really?"

  "You have no idea."

  "Actually, I'm pretty sure I do."

  "Listen," he continued, "I am so fucking sorry. This morning, me, running off like that, it was a dick move, and I don't blame you if you're still pissed."

  His words, as rough as they were, made my heart go all soft and gooey. Still, I couldn’t let him take full responsibility. I wasn't exactly blameless in all of this.

  I had to say it. "Jake?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I'm sorry, too."

  "Why? You weren't the dick. I was."

  "I've been doing some thinking," I said. "About the job thing, you made a lot of good points."

  "I know."

  I had to laugh. "Cocky much?"

  His voice warmed a few more degrees. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

  My stomach gave that familiar flutter. "Maybe."

  "Maybe, huh? When I get back, I'm gonna turn that 'maybe' into a 'yes.'"

  I felt myself smile. "I have no doubt."

  "Me neither."

  The way it sounded, he meant it, too. And suddenly, I was even more eager to see him.

  Determined to put our argument behind us before that happened, I made myself say, "About my job, I don't know if I agree with everything you said, but I can see why you were mad."

  His tone grew teasing. "Yeah? Me, too."

  I rolled my eyes. "Oh, stop it." After a brief hesitation, I asked, "You're not still mad, are you?"

  "Nah. I'm too busy missing you."

  "I miss you, too," I said. "But I've gotta ask, if you miss me, why didn't you come back? Where are you, anyway?"

  "Long story. You don't wanna know."

  "Actually, I do."

  On the other end of the phone, Jake said nothing.

  "Seriously," I said, "just tell me, okay?"

  "I will. But not now."

  Disappointment coursed through me. "Why not?"

  "Because it's not a phone type of conversation. But I'll tell you later. I promise."

  It was vintage Jake, with the old, "I'll tell you later," routine. In spite of my warm feelings, I didn't like it.

  How could we ever have a relationship, a real, long-term relationship, if he was so secretive all the time?

  It was so frustrating that I didn't know what to say. I was silent so long that Jake finally asked, "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  "No. Tell me."

  I sighed. "I don't want to fight."

  This was a huge understatement. For some reason, I didn't think I could stomach yet another argument, at least not now.

  "No fighting," he said. "Whatever it is, just say it."

  "Alright. I’m just wondering, I guess, why you won't tell me where you are."

  Now, it was his turn to be silent. As the silence stretched out, I felt that sad, sinking sensation replace the warmth from earlier.

  We'd been talking for how long now? Less than a minute? And already, we were on the verge of another fight? This was definitely a bad sign.

  Jake's voice, softer now, broke into my thoughts. "Is it that important to you?"

  "Well, yeah, actually."

  "Alright. I'm in Vegas."

  I almost dropped the phone. "Vegas?" Other than stupid bets with my brothers, Jake wasn't a gambler, at least not that I knew of. So what was he doing there? "Why Vegas?" I asked.

  "The truth? I was hoping you'd be here with me."

  In a flash, I recalled what he'd mentioned this morning in the car, something about packing a bag and going away for the weekend. I also recalled that a few weeks earlier, I'd made a passing remark about how much I'd like to go to Vegas someday.

  "Oh, my God," I said. "Was it supposed to be some sort of surprise vacation?"

  "Not a surprise anymore." He gave a wry laugh. "And without you? Not much of a vacation either."

  "So that's why you didn't want to tell me?" I winced. "I ruined the surprise, didn't I?"

  "Not all of it."

  Now, that got me thinking. "There was more?"

  "Wouldn't you like to know."

  This time, I wasn't so quick to say yes. In truth, I did want to know, but if there was another surprise, I didn't want to ruin that one, too.

  Deliberately, I switched gears. "Did you get my message? About Joel, I mean?"

  "Not directly. But I heard from Bishop."

  "You did? Did he find Joel?"

  "Sort of."

  "What do you mean 'sort of'?"

  "He talked to him. That's it."

  "How'd it go? Did y
ou hear?"

  "Oh, I heard about it," Jake said, sounding like the conversation had been less than friendly.

  "From Bishop?"

  "And from Joel. Let's just say, I got an earful."

  "I can believe it," I said, recalling my own encounter with his brother. "Is Joel okay?"

  "He will be," Jake said. "He just doesn't know it yet."

  "How about you?" My voice softened. "Are you okay?"

  I heard a smile in his voice as he said, "I am now."

  Soon, I was smiling, too. And I'd be smiling even more when Jake returned.

  Still, I had to ask, "About Joel, what are you gonna do?"

  "Nothing."

  I don't know what I expected, but his answer caught me off guard. "Nothing? Why?"

  Dark humor crept into his voice. "Because, in Bishop's words, I've done enough."

  "Since when do you listen to Bishop?"

  "Hey, there's a first for everything." He paused, and his tone grew more serious. "And Bishop's right. Joel needs some time to cool off. Me chasing after him? Not gonna help."

  I felt so bad about everything that I had to sigh. "True."

  "Hey, don't worry. Bishop's on it. Joel isn't quite so pissed at him."

  "And what about Vince?" I asked. "Are you really gonna leave his clients alone?"

  "Not just his clients."

  "I'm not following."

  "Then lemme put it this way." Jake was quiet a beat before saying, "I'm done."

  Chapter 47

  I wasn't quite following. "Done with what?"

  "The fights," he said. "Messing with people. All of it."

  I was so shocked that I could hardly speak. To me, this was good news. Very good news. The way I saw it, Jake was thrilling enough without all the fights and drama.

  Still, I had to ask, "Why?"

  He was quiet for a long moment. "You know my dad, right?"

  I'd never been introduced, but coming from the same hometown, I knew enough to grasp the basics.

  Jake's dad was mean, half-crazy, and notorious for all kinds of things that made normal people run in the other direction.

  Growing up, I'd seen him around town, but it's not like I'd ever spoken to the guy.

  "I don't know him personally," I said, "but I know that he's um…" I searched for the right words, and settled on, "...a bit of a character."

  "Yeah. That's one way to put it."

  "But I don't get it," I said. "What does your dad have to do with all this?"

  "I don’t wanna be him."

  "But you could never be him," I pointed out. "You're totally different."

  "Am I?"

  "Yeah. Totally."

  "Well, then I’m gonna stay different." He made a scoffing sound. "When I have a family? I'm not gonna be that guy, brawling on the front lawn, taking one too many hits to the head." His voice hardened. "Embarrassing the shit out of my kids."

  "But you don't even have kids."

  "Yeah?" In his voice, I heard the hint of a smile. "Neither do you."

  "But–"

  "Chew on that a while," he said. "We'll talk when I get back."

  Now, I was totally dying to see him.

  Who was I kidding? I'd been dying to see him the moment he'd left.

  Still, one thing confused me. I'd known Jake for years. Nothing embarrassed him. Or at least, that's what I'd always assumed.

  Was I that clueless?

  Trying to understand, I said, "But wait. So your dad embarrassed you?"

  Jake laughed. "Me? Nah."

  "But you just said…"

  "Not me. Joel. And maybe the others, I dunno."

  I saw what he meant. A house like Jake's would've been hard to grow up in.

  Even Jake, maybe he didn't embarrass easily, but he still had his scars. And I wasn't thinking of the physical kind.

  When he returned home, I vowed, I'd kiss some of those scars away and remind him just how amazing he was.

  I only wished I didn't have to wait. Trying not to sound as desperate as I felt, I said, "So when are you coming back?"

  "Monday night. Late."

  "How late?"

  "Past midnight, maybe later."

  "Oh." My shoulders sagged. "Because you can't change your flight?"

  "No. Because, like a dumb-ass, I promised Bishop a favor."

  "Really? What?"

  "To spend some time with our brother."

  I wasn't following. Based on what he'd already told me, I knew it couldn't be Joel. So who?

  "Which one?" I asked.

  "Lawton."

  The answer surprised me, mostly because it hadn't even been on my list. Obviously, he meant Lawton Rastor, who, in addition to being Jake's half-brother, was practically a household name.

  Jake never talked about him. And I had to wonder, why was that?

  As far I knew they weren't remotely close. But Jake had gone to his wedding, and it wasn't that long ago.

  Unfortunately, I'd missed the whole thing, but only because Jake and I had the bad luck to be broken up at the time.

  I hated that – and not because I missed the wedding, even if it would've been nice to go.

  Turning my thoughts to the present, I said, "So, he lives in Vegas now?"

  "Nah," Jake said. "He's out here for a sports thing." He gave a humorless laugh. "I think Bishop wants us to 'bond' or something."

  "You don't want to?"

  "Eh, it's complicated. Family. You know."

  I did know, as evidenced by the sounds of Kung fu fighting, coming from other room. Over that noise, I heard a knocking sound, not on my end, but on Jake's.

  With a muttered curse, Jake said, "Baby, I hate to say this, but I've gotta go. Call you tomorrow?"

  I hated that he had to go, but I liked the fact that he was spending time with his brother. Who knows? Maybe it would do him good.

  I sure hoped so.

  Besides, I had my own brothers to think of. Suddenly, a Kung fu marathon was sounding like the perfect way to end the evening.

  Smiling into the phone, I said, "Until tomorrow then." In a quieter voice, I added, "I love you."

  "I love you, too. And when I get back, I'm gonna prove it."

  I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I was definitely looking forward to it.

  After the call ended, I practically floated into the main living area where I gorged on pizza, Kung fu, and the company of my brothers, who stayed until nearly midnight, watching two movies back-to-back.

  When the movies ended, I watched, still smiling, as they opened the penthouse doors and strode out with the promise to return Monday evening for Kung fu, part two.

  My smile faltered when I saw them turn to take the stairs.

  "Wait," I said. "Don't you wanna take the elevator?"

  They stopped moving. Steve said, "Yeah. Soon as you make a sandwich on Mom's counter."

  I rolled my eyes. "Oh come on. That's not a fair comparison, and you know it."

  "Your ass," Steve said.

  Next to him, Anthony said, "Dude, watch the phrasing, okay. I don't need the reminder."

  "No shit," Steve said, pushing through the stairway door. Just before it swung shut behind him, I heard his voice, loud and clear, say, "Twenty freaking flights. I'm telling ya. She's gotta move."

  Chapter 48

  I was making a Long Island Iced Tea when I heard Robert say, "She's here."

  I looked up. Robert was standing just to my left, looking tense and uneasy. He didn't need to say who she was, or why he was frowning.

  It was Monday at three o'clock. Apology time.

  I dug deep and summoned up a smile. "Great." I glanced toward the entrance, but didn't see her. "So, she's…?"

  "Near the far wall." His frown deepened. "Table for ten."

  I paused. "Ten?"

  Okay, I knew I needed to apologize. And I knew it would be unpleasant. But nowhere in my wildest dreams had I envisioned myself apologizing in front of nine other people who had nothing to do with this
.

  Robert summoned up a smile of his own. It looked as fake as mine probably did. "Don't worry. It's just her." His smile faltered. "For now."

  Again, he glanced toward the far wall. From this angle, neither one of us could see her table, but I knew exactly where it was.

  "Oh," I said. "That's good."

  We were in the middle of the afternoon lull, and the restaurant was barely half-full. The way I saw it, this was a good thing. The smaller the crowd, the better.

  "Yeah," Robert was saying. "She got here early to hold the table. The way she talked, she's having a meeting or something after."

  Meaning, after my apology, of course. Suddenly, I was more than eager to get this thing over with. Better to do it fast and early rather than wait for an audience.

  As if reading my mind, Robert said, "If you wanna go now, I'll man the bar."

  He didn't need to ask me twice. Working faster now, I put the final touches on the Long Island Iced Tea and set it in the waitress pick-up spot. "That's for Melanie," I said, lifting the small divider that separated the bar from the dining area.

  Over my shoulder, I said, "Wish me luck."

  As I left, I swear I heard him mutter, "Yeah. You're gonna need it." My steps faltered, but I didn't turn back. Choosing to believe he said something else, I moved purposely past the other sparsely occupied tables and into the section that he'd indicated.

  I spotted the woman, sure enough, sitting alone at a table for ten. Breathing a sigh of relief that no one else had yet arrived, I moved toward her with my heart thudding in my chest.

  I don't know why. I mean, I was no stranger to apologies, and the woman looked harmless enough. She was a soft-looking professional type, maybe forty years old, with a no-nonsense haircut and a blouse buttoned up to her neck.

  And yet, I knew from our last encounter that she could be highly unpleasant when she wanted to be. I recalled the last time I tried to apologize. The more I told her how sorry I was, the more irate she became, until practically everyone in the whole restaurant had stopped to listen.

  But now, sitting alone at that huge table, she had out her cell phone and was quietly looking down at the screen, as if checking email or something.

  When I reached her side, she didn't look up. Instead, she turned slightly away and kept scrolling on her phone.

  I paused. She had seen me, right? Filled with new uncertainty, I said in the most pleasant voice I could muster, "Excuse me? Um, ma'am?"

 

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