Chapter Twenty-Seven
What’s POPpin’ asks: What’s your pre-show ritual?
Phillip: Drinking tea.
Aspen: Scrolling through social media to see how excited the fans are.
Leon: Practicing mindfulness.
Jake: No comment.
What’s POPpin’: Why?
Jake: It’s personal.
—Phillip Maan, Aspen Ray, Leon Ward, and the ever-mysterious Jake Moody for What’s POPpin
The performance area was staged. Four chairs sat in front of the jungle backdrop, with the lights shining on them like a sunspot, ready for the boys.
I set up my laptop on a table, where Mom, Amber, and I would watch the performance from the sidelines while we manned the website and donation channels. Then I took a deep breath.
This had to work.
Turning, I spotted Phillip kneeling on the floor. He held a cup of tea aloft in one hand and gently held his other hand out toward Mittens for inspection.
“They’re Touche Midas,” he informed Mittens as she sniffed his rings. “I’m their brand ambassador. The ladies love it.”
Mittens and I gave him twin skeptical looks.
Still, his movements were slow and patient. “You’re used to interacting with cats, aren’t you?”
Phillip nodded. “Mum had two Persians when I was in primary school—Alfie and Hugo. They were like the brothers I never had.”
“Don’t you actually have brothers?”
“Yes. What’s your point?”
“Nothing,” I said, hiding an amused smile. “Do you know where Jake is? I haven’t seen him.”
“He’s in Rumple’s room,” Phillip answered, slowly rising so as not to scare Mittens. “Jake usually goes off alone for a little bit before a performance. We all have that habit so we can do our pre-show rituals.”
“Oh, okay. I won’t bother him then.”
Phillip hummed, eyeing me with a look. “I don’t think Jake would mind seeing you. Considering you’re responsible for his ritual.”
“What do you mean?”
Instead of replying, Phillip lifted the cup of tea to his lips and took a sip.
A long sip that just kept going on and on and on.
I had half a mind to wait. Eventually, he’d run out of tea—or have to stop to breathe. But Phillip had a large mug and the lungs of a singer, which were really quite something, because he didn’t look like he’d need to exhale anytime soon.
“Fine,” I laughed. “Have it your way. I’ll go get the answer myself,” I said airily, making my way down the hall.
When I reached the back room, I came to a full stop in the doorway, like a ballerina in a music box whose music suddenly stopped.
Jake was leaning against the back wall, holding a quarter in his hands.
He tossed it up, eyes trained on the flashing silver disc as it spun in the air and caught the light.
I followed the coin too, a memory from four years ago washing over me.
Though I hadn’t known it then, it’d been the last day Jake and I would be together. He was nervous about his US audition, so I wanted to find something to distract him.
I’d reached for the café tip jar and spilled it out, searching for the perfect coin in the pile of silver and copper. I nearly chose a shiny penny at first, until my eyes landed on something else: A state quarter with an engraved star on one side. Texas, it said on the edge, above 2004.
It’d been just right: something featuring his old home, given to him by me, someone from his new home.
And when I tossed it to him, he smiled at me, bright as sunshine.
Now, I watched as this coin fell back into Jake’s hand, and he flicked his fingers, making it disappear. Had he possibly started playing with quarters because of my gift the last day we spent together?
“Coin tricks are your pre-show ritual?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.
Jake looked up at the sound of my voice, before ducking his head slightly and exhaling a small laugh, seeming somewhat sheepish at being caught.
“Coin tricks,” he confirmed, rolling the quarter effortlessly over his knuckles.
I stared at the movement, mesmerized.
“I live for singing, but even after all these years, before the music starts, I still get nervous,” he admitted. “This helps.”
“You must do it a lot,” I observed. He deftly manipulated the silver coin without missing a beat, an unspoken confession of just how many times he’d done that move to get that good. “Do you do this before all your performances?”
“Every one.”
Somehow, it sounded like a promise.
Jake gave me a long look, then tossed me the coin, like he knew I’d catch it.
He wasn’t wrong. I’d already instinctively started moving when I saw him flick his wrist.
We could still spot each other’s tells. There were just some things you couldn’t unlearn.
I stepped through the doorway and caught the coin.
Texas.
Was this . . . ? It couldn’t be.
My heart thudded behind my ribs like a snare drum’s tattoo as I searched for the curve of numbers on the bottom.
2004.
“This is the same coin I gave you the day you left,” I whispered in amazement. “You kept it? After all this time?”
“Well, you mean a lot to me,” Jake said. Not past tense—present. “I’ve always carried you with me.”
Dozens of Jake’s performances flashed through my mind—when I saw him on the Today show. When he performed as an opener at Madison Square Garden. When he sang at his first-ever sold-out show. All over the globe, in and out of concert halls.
I’d been there too.
Happiness filled me at the thought that this coin I’d given Jake eased his stage fright. All this time, I’d still been helping my best friend from half a world away.
Jake stepped closer, reaching out to take the coin from me, except he didn’t retract his hand. His fingers stayed touching mine, not shying away.
I didn’t withdraw from his touch either.
It felt like one of those games we used to play when we were younger and testing each other about who could be bravest the longest, neither of us wanting to be the first to back away.
But there was something else now mixed in with the intimate familiarity.
Something new, electric and sparkling and sending a shiver down my spine.
It was like how you could hear your favorite song a million times—know it backward and forward—but it still couldn’t compare to being at a concert and hearing it live for the very first time.
We stood so close, I could feel the heat coming off him. So close, I could reach out and put my hand over his heartbeat and feel its melody like he’d felt mine.
Jake’s gaze flickered down to my lips, before heading back up to my eyes, so quick I could’ve missed it. But I didn’t, and I—
“Jake!” Aspen came barreling in, shouting as he did. “Jake, are you—” He skidded to a stop when he saw me. “Oh, hi, Lucy.”
Leon and Phillip peered in behind him, taking in how close Jake and I were standing.
“Are we interrupting something?” Phillip asked, a Cheshire cat grin on his face.
Jake glared. “You weren’t interrupting anything.” He glanced at me. “Were they?”
Was he genuinely asking, or was this just for show in front of his friends?
“Nothing,” I said, choosing the safest answer.
“See? Nothing,” Jake echoed.
Leon smiled. “Says the guy who cowrote ‘Pants on Fire.’”
Phillip high-fived him.
“But, really, you two, sorry for interrupting,” Aspen said, sing-songing the last word for emphasis. He made it sound like he caught us in the middle of making out. My face heated. “Can I get you two anything? Some ChapStick?”
Ever so helpfully, Phillip reached into his pocket and pulled out a tin. “Some breath mints?”
“I’m going to kill you two,” Jake muttered. “Was there something you guys wanted?”
“Yeah, we’re on in fifteen.”
“But you still have five minutes,” Leon pointed out. “Which is a lot if you use them well. We can just close the door. Give you two some privacy.”
“I’m going to kill you too,” Jake decided.
Not feeling the least bit threatened or repentant, the boys beamed before backing out and closing the door.
Their chaotic giggling echoed in from the other side.
Jake and I stood there in awkward silence.
He turned to me. “If I murder them, will you still visit me in prison?”
Sighing, I said, “Bold of you to assume I’m not getting them first.”