Chapter Four
At the Vanity Fair luncheon, Jake Moody was seen having an intense conversation with US band manager Marie Glenn before skipping out on the event early—a habit that’s frowned upon, but not quite uncharacteristic of US’s renegade.
Last year, the golden-throated rogue snuck out of the Star Ceremony .
. . and talked bandmates Phillip, Aspen, and Leon into also slipping away and going for burgers instead.
—What’s POPpin article by Danica Card
Whoa.” The boy at the door considered the statue aimed at his head for the briefest of moments before slowly putting his hands up, looking infuriatingly unfazed. “I come in peace.”
“Jake?” I sputtered.
“Luciana.”
My thoughts spun around like a skipping record, chaotic and fast and full of static. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“You know, I get that a lot.” Jake’s lips curved up into a wry grin. “But if this is how you greet customers, I see why the café’s in trouble. What happened to hello?”
I arched an eyebrow. “What happened to not breaking and entering?”
“Didn’t break. Technically haven’t entered,” he pointed out, glancing down at the toes of his boots, positioned just outside the doorway.
Jake spoke in a cool, even tone, sounding unflustered despite almost getting his head bashed in.
It made my fingers around the statue twitch.
He noticed, his eyes drifting to my hands.
“Are you going to set the disturbingly pink tiger down?”
Maybe. Maybe not. He did tell me he’d always be there for me and then ghosted me for four years, after all.
“I’m still deciding,” I replied coolly.
“All right then. Take your time. No rush.”
But I still didn’t move, and neither did he. Instead, we silently took each other in, not bothering to be secretive about it.
Dark, disheveled locks fell over Jake’s forehead, and he was decked out in black from head to toe, like he had just leapt from one of the US posters. Black boots and a black shirt. Black leather jacket and a baseball cap stuck into the pocket of his dark jeans.
He’d gotten taller. Broader. He looked older, I thought stupidly. Because of course he was older. I was too. That’s how growing up worked. We were both different people now.
Jake’s eyes were exactly how I remembered, though. Even in the half shadows, they still glimmered with that same unmistakable shine, catching the faint light overhead like the sun glinting gold off the water.
He looked good. It was irritating.
How did he think I looked now?
Actually, no, never mind. That didn’t matter anymore.
I dropped my stance, lowering the snarling tiger. “What are you doing here?”
“Your website said you were still open, so I thought I’d come through the back like we used to after school and leave my stuff there,” Jake told me, motioning to a bulky duffel bag and a scuffed guitar case at his feet.
“I didn’t want to risk drawing attention if anyone here happened to be an US fan. ”
I shook my head. “Not why did you come through the back, why are you back?”
Crossing his arms, Jake shifted and leaned against the doorframe. “You emailed me.”
I mean, I did. But I texted him in the past too, and that didn’t even earn me a reply, let alone get him to show up on my back doorstep where we got packages, like he was some sort of special delivery.
“You didn’t reply,” I pointed out. You didn’t reply for years. What was I supposed to think? “I thought—” I broke off, squinting at his face before leaning in for a closer look. “Are you wearing guyliner?”
“Uh, yes? I came from a Vanity Fair party.”
Huh. Well, that’s new. Anyway. “I thought you’d just do a quick repost or share one of our donation links I sent you, not actually show up in person,” I explained.
“Oh.” Jake searched my eyes, something intense flashing through his expression before vanishing.
“Well, it’s not like I had a choice. Marie—my manager—was with me when I got your email.
” His left shoulder rose in a careless half shrug before dropping.
“She thought it would be good PR for me to actually turn up and snap a few photos at the café.”
Right. His manager.
Of course he wouldn’t ever choose to be here for me on his own.
The old Jake would’ve helped in a heartbeat; the new Jake had to be forced to. Especially since he needed good publicity after his last stunt. He didn’t care about me—he only came down here to get something out of this. A taste like bitter coffee grounds settled over my tongue.
“The lighting in that police station ended up not being that flattering, huh?” I said sarcastically. “I’ve got to warn you, the only body of water we have around here is the birdbath over on Willow. I do not recommend jumping into it.”
Jake pointed down at the growling tiger in my grip. “You know, you two have the same expression.”
“Probably because we’re both talking to you.”
He hummed a little one-note acknowledgment. “Nice to see you still have your sense of humor.”
“Yeah, well, it’s about the only thing Rumple never managed to steal.”
“Rumple,” Jake echoed, attention caught. “Did he ever find a good home?”
“Yeah. Here. We took him off the adoption list.” Rumple had fallen in love with the cat café, just like we’d fallen in love with him. Mom and I realized he didn’t want to leave it behind. My eyes narrowed at Jake. Unlike some people. “He’s king of the jungle.”
“Really? You kept him?” Jake lit up in surprise. “Do you think he’ll remember me?”
Going against my better judgment, I turned and walked away, making it halfway down the hall before I glanced back at Jake over my shoulder. “There’s only one way to find out.”
***
I pushed open the door to Rumple’s hideaway. A low, gentle glow from the corner lamp greeted me, and a warm summer breeze blew through the half-open window, making the sheer curtains billow out from the glass.
“Hey, buddy,” I called softly to the sleeping ball of fuzz. “You have a guest.”
A yawn sounded, followed by a soft mmrp? as the cat on the plush throne of blankets awoke. Rumple flicked his tail and slit open a single green eye, looking like a fur-covered dragon who wondered what mortal dared to disturb his slumber.
Jake entered the room behind me, then slowly got down on his knees in front of Rumple. Next, he extended his hand toward the cat, making Rumple’s second eye open and his black nose twitch with interest.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Jake had probably changed too much for Rumple to identify. The cocky guy in here might as well be a stranger. Four years was a long time. Sure, Jake had hung out at the café nearly every day and been here when Rumple was a kitten, but that didn’t mean—
A rumbling purr interrupted my thoughts.
Pursing my lips, I raised a questioning eyebrow at the cat over Jake’s shoulder.
Really? You’re welcoming Jake back just like that? As if nothing’s changed?
How did Rumple recognize him when I barely could?
I opened my mouth, something sarcastic blossoming on my tongue, but then I saw Jake’s face. Surprised, my mouth snapped shut.
For the first time since he stepped inside The Tiny Tiger, Jake looked happy.
With his face half turned away, and seemingly unaware that anyone besides Rumple could see him, Jake relaxed as softness overtook the sharpness of his features.
Gone was the smolder from the posters. This wasn’t anything like the uninterested way he glanced at the police officers and flashing paparazzi cameras either.
Rumple headbutted him and I watched in silence as a genuine, wide smile crossed Jake’s face, dimples and all.
Jake hadn’t smiled at me like that.
Rumple shot me a smug look as Jake started scratching him behind the ears.
Traitor, I mouthed.
Rumple turned his head toward Jake, then over in my direction as if to ask, Him or me?
As if suddenly remembering I was also in the room, Jake turned to look at me.
The smile was gone, an impassive look returning to his face, like anything else I’d seen had merely been a mirage.
“Does he still steal as much as he used to?” Jake asked.
“More. And on a regular basis,” I replied, coming over to stroke Rumple too, who purred louder at the doubled attention.
“He thinks criminal activities are a fun little hobby to engage in.” The headline “Bad Boy Band Member Absconds with Manager’s Motorcycle” flashed through my mind. “Remind you of anyone?”
Jake shot me a look. I held his gaze, my lips twitching upward, utterly unrepentant.
He used to be so unguarded, but now Jake seemed perpetually unfazed. It was new—and there was something about it that goaded me. Half of me wanted to see if I could say something snarky or bold enough to pull a reaction out of him and peek at what lay under that attitude.
The other half of me felt hesitant to do so. What would I see underneath? Would it be better or worse if I didn’t recognize the hidden parts of him I once knew?
And if I got the truth out of him, would he try the same with me?
Out of all my hesitations, that’s the one that kept me silent. We were both keeping too many secrets to play this game without risk.
Well, not secrets exactly. But if Jake’s life had transformed in front of the public’s eyes, mine had changed just as much behind closed doors.
Four years ago, I could’ve told my best friend everything in a heartbeat.
But now, I’d have to gamble on some smooth operator who changed personalities the way other people tried on clothes.
As I stroked Rumple, Jake’s hand moved over mine, accidentally lacing our fingers together.
We both froze. I stubbornly kept my hand where it was, wanting to withdraw but refusing to back down.
“Listen,” Jake started. “Luciana—”
The use of my full name in that familiar tone pulled me up short. He didn’t know me anymore, not really. I pulled my hand away. “No one calls me that anymore.”
He looked startled, like I had told him the sky decided to stop being blue. “What?”
“I go by Lucy now.”
“Lucy?”