Chapter Eight #2
Amber gave me a look, the expression on her face so clear I could practically hear her playfully sarcastic voice in my head saying, If by “one of those faces,” you don’t mean “looks like your average guy next door,” and more like “one of those faces that could’ve caused a war in ancient Greece.”
I rolled my eyes at her. Whatever.
“Okay, this has been great,” I said, clapping my hands with an air of finality, “but I’m taking Syl into the cat room now.”
“Nice seeing you again, Diana,” Jake said, accent fading a bit as he waved to Mom.
“It was nice seeing you too, Sylvester,” Mom replied, giving him a look. “It’s been far too long. It’s good you’re back now. Sorry everyone hates you.”
Jake blinked at her. “What?”
Oh no. Mom was remembering my little fib to get out of explaining why Jake was back in Somerset. He’s here to get away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. Also, he’s got such a rep, everyone in LA hates him right now. I mean really hates him.
Jake did not need to know about that.
I had to get us out of there. Determinedly, I tugged Jake in through the glass door and shut it behind us, sealing us inside the cat room.
Jake stared at me. “Sorry everyone hates you?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, brushing him off. “Mom’s on a ton of pain meds for her leg.”
“Yeah, speaking of that, how come you didn’t tell me your mom got hurt?
” Jake asked as he ran his hand through his hair, tousling his dark locks and sending them over his forehead.
He used to have that tic when he got upset about something.
Wait, Jake was mad I didn’t tell him about Mom’s accident?
I frowned as I saw a flash of unexpected hurt in his eyes. “You said she was fine.”
“It’s . . .” I trailed off. It’s a long story. And you don’t even know the short ones in my life anymore. “I mean, we haven’t exactly been keeping each other up to date on our lives.”
“And who’s fault is that?”
Seriously? Crossing my arms and cocking out my hip, I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yours, obviously,” I shot back, before I realized exactly where in the café Jake stood. Oh no, that’s not good. “Back up.”
“I won’t take it back,” he argued, misunderstanding me and very decidedly not moving.
I sighed. “Were you always this stubborn?”
“Were you always this evasive?”
“Ha.” I wasn’t the one who avoided people.
Right now, the winner of the Elusive Creature of the Year Award was down to Jake, the Loch Ness Monster, and Rumple when he needed a bath.
“I’m being serious, though,” I continued, my eyes flicking up above his head.
He needed to move. Now. I motioned with my hands. “Back up.”
“No way, what about how you—”
“Me?” What did I ever do to damage our relationship? “Why would you even— Wait. Sorry. Hold that thought. I still need you to back up first because of—”
Before I could finish my sentence, a sudden blur of color came hurling down from the catwalk to land right onto Jake’s shoulders.
“That,” I finished with a wince, as Bubbles clung onto Jake, wondering why this stupid boy was standing right in the middle of her designated disembarking zone from her perch on the canopy catwalk. “Because of that.”
Jake startled, swiveling around in a surprised half circle, but to his credit, he didn’t shriek like I did when I first experienced being used as a feline landing pad.
Jake stumbled backward a few steps, hands flying up to steady the cat clinging to him.
Before I could step in to help, Bubbles hopped off and landed gracefully on the floor, looking irritated and yet somehow entirely unruffled after the ordeal.
“You okay?” I asked Jake.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he answered, despite breathing heavier, chest heaving. He twisted his neck, likely trying to look over his shoulder to see if there were claw marks on his jacket. “I don’t remember that being part of the café experience before.”
I touched his shoulder lightly, stopping him from swiveling so I could confirm his jacket was fine. Jake stilled under my hand before letting me turn him around for inspection. “Well, you know, we have to do something to compete with Espresso Inc and that new cineplex with all those 3D showings.”
In tandem, we turned to look down at Bubbles, who regarded us with an expression that went something like, Jeez, humans, so dramatic, before daintily cleaning her little white paws.
“What were you saying?” I asked. Jake frowned in confusion. “Not about Bubbles, I mean before,” I clarified. My anger had given way to confusion. “You mentioned—”
Jake’s phone vibrated, cutting me off. His eyes widened when he read his text. “It’s my manager, Marie, replying to my livestream question. She wants to do a video call in five minutes.”
“That soon?” I asked in surprise.
“Yeah, and I better talk to her now while she has time. Last time I didn’t answer her video call right away, she made me wait another three days until she had a time slot open. But . . .” Trailing off, Jake meaningfully glanced toward the food and drink area of the café.
A group of friends had just walked into the café, which was fantastic—just not for Jake.
Going for the quickest and closest option for privacy, I motioned Jake down a short, narrow hall at the end of the cat room and threw open the nearest door on the right. “In here.”
Jake stared straight ahead through the door, waited a beat, then turned to me. “This is a closet.”
“It’s a walk-in pantry,” I corrected, yanking the pull-down cord above me and turning on the light inside so he could see how roomy it was. “In you go.”
Tentatively, Jake stepped in, looking entirely out of place among the shelves of kitty supplies.
“There, see? It’s perfect. Bigger than an LA apartment, even. Well, maybe not your apartment. I don’t know where you live.”
Jake raised a single, skeptical eyebrow as he surveyed his surroundings. “I can’t wait to take a video call in front of . . .” His lashes dipped down as he read a label. “Yum Yum’s Scrumptious Salmon Bits.”
“I’d take that over standing in front of the box of Litty Kitty cat litter on the other side, but it’s your decision.”
“You’re just making that—” He swiveled around. “Oh wow, that really is what the label says.”
“Sorry.” I grimaced. “But I really can’t think of anywhere else you can talk without anyone hearing you. Besides,” I added, giving him a knowing look, “this can’t possibly be the worst place you’ve ever called your manager from, can it?”
One side of Jake’s lips quirked up and I knew I had him. “Okay . . . no. There was that one time in the emergency room. Then in the hotel security office. Oh, and Olive Garden.”
“Olive Garden?”
“Long story. There was a bet.”
I snorted. “You don’t have to bargain for unlimited soup, salad, and breadsticks, you know. I’m told those are free.”
“You’ll be happy to know there was a lot of yelling.”
“Well, when you’re there, you’re family.”
The joke slipped off my tongue before I could stop it, shooting back at Jake quick and easy, like how talking to him used to be. Maybe he felt déjà vu too, because surprise registered on his face just before a pleased grin did.
Had he missed talking to me like this? Did he like how familiar it felt?
Not about to let Jake get too cocky about it, I closed the door in his face.
I leaned back against the door and found myself smiling.
The café had customers today, Jake was talking to his manager, there shouldn’t be a problem with singing his own songs, and we had a plan.
How could something go wrong?
***
Apparently, something went wrong.
I’d just handed a guest some toy mice to toss to the cats when I caught sight of Jake, his head peeking out of the pantry, and his expression grim. Motioning wildly, he waved me over.
“Hey,” I whispered, coming down the hall, “why do you look—”
In one smooth motion, Jake reached out, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the pantry. Once inside, his fingers unlocked around mine and fell away, moving to close the door so customers couldn’t hear what he was about to say.
Trying to reorient myself, I blinked against the dim light.
There wasn’t much more than a few handspans of space between us.
My senses had no choice but to zero in on Jake, registering the way waves of heat radiated off his body, and noticing the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
This close to him, I could tell he smelled like something woodsy and spiced, with an edge of something sweet.
Was it soap? Cologne? It reminded me of a candle I used to light every night before bed until the flame ate away the wick.
I forced myself to take a step back before I did something incredibly stupid like take a step forward instead, and in the process my elbow hit the shelf behind me, causing a faint jingle to echo off the rickety metal shelves.
Swiveling slightly, I looked up to see a box marked Jingle Bell Balls on the shelf above. I carefully inched away again, before cautiously turning to look at Jake. “What’s going on?”
“We have a problem. Marie okayed the photo op she sent me down here for, but won’t let me use the music if it’s just me performing.”
My heart sank.
“But,” Jake continued slowly, “Marie says she’ll give us the songs, send over a professional crew, and let us promote the performance on the official US channel and all our social media accounts . . . if and only if the whole band performs.”
My lips parted in astonishment. This was little Oliver Twist asking for more in his bowl and then getting transported into an all-you-can-eat buffet.
The Usual Suspects official channels with professional people helping behind the scenes?
If we had that, we could reach so many more people than by just using Jake’s own account.
The number of visitors would skyrocket in no time.
So many cats would get adopted out. We’d make it through summer. I wouldn’t fail.