Chapter Ten #2
The bell above the café door chimed. Too focused on guzzling his coffee, Leon didn’t even bother turning around, but I looked up to see Jake barreling inside.
“Lucy,” Jake said in a rush as he gripped his phone, “I got here as fast as I could. I just got a text and apparently Leon is—”
I motioned to the boy at the table.
“Already here,” Jake finished. “Okay then.”
“Late to meet up as per usual, Moody,” Leon announced with no real heat, and raised his cup to toast him.
Jake ignored this. Instead, he took in Leon’s wrinkled trench coat with a scrunch of his nose. “Why are you dressed like that old detective in that show my mom watches reruns of?”
“Columbo,” I laughed, while Leon groaned in protest. “I know, right? Although, personally, I went with Inspector Gadget.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Jake nodded. “But I definitely would not trust him with gadgets. He almost took out my eye with a can opener on a tour bus.”
“Hey,” Leon protested, glaring at Jake over the rim of his cup. “I missed.”
“And now my life flashes in front of my eyes every time I need to open a can,” Jake replied, dragging a chair over between Leon and me. He took a seat in it backwards, his arms casually draped over the back of the chair. “But, really, what’s with the trench?”
“You said to come in disguise.”
“Yeah, not in costume.”
“I thought it’d be funny,” Leon moaned, draining the last of his coffee. “I had a whole bit planned out where I was going to knock on your motel door and pretend to be an inspector. And as you were peering through the peephole, I was going to announce you were under arrest.”
Jake nodded seriously. “For being criminally handsome.”
“No, something believable,” Leon grumbled, making Jake laugh. “I packed a fake badge and everything. Unfortunately, that was before I woke up early and realized the prank would take far more effort than I wanted to make at this hour. Now I’m regretting every life choice I’ve ever made.”
I glanced at Jake. “Is he always this dramatic?”
“Give Leon a minute for the coffee to kick in,” Jake advised. “He transforms from a cranky gremlin to a docile little lamb.”
“I hate you,” Leon decided. “How are you so awake? Did you have your coffee yet?” He turned to look at me. “You’ll never guess how Jake takes his coffee, by the way.”
“How does he take it?” I asked politely, deciding to humor him. He was beginning to grow on me. I never had a little brother, unless you counted Rumple.
“Leon,” Jake began, “I don’t think—”
But Leon paid him no heed.
“This guy,” Leon told me, leaning in conspiringly and jabbing his thumb toward Jake, “puts maple syrup in it.”
It felt like everyone in the room had just jumped out from behind the counter, shouted Surprise! at me, and blew a party popper. Meanwhile, metaphorical me stood there, not knowing how to react while paper confetti rained down on my head.
In disbelief, I looked over at Jake, who stared at me, looking caught.
“Can you believe that?” Leon continued, unaware of the history between us.
“I can’t, actually,” I said, still staring at Jake. Jake made his coffee exactly how I showed him as a kid? I always thought he wasn’t a fan of it. When did he start? Or had he just never been honest with me back then?
Had he been drinking his coffee like that at the motel?
“Yeah, it’s one of his many quirks,” Leon went on, too focused on finishing his muffin to notice the silent tension he’d caused between Jake and me. “He makes some for us, sometimes, when we’re on the tour bus together. Aspen’s a big fan of it. He’s been trying to get Jake to add marshmallows.”
So, the boy band of the year was just casually going around in their tour bus drinking maple syrup in their coffee . . . because of me?
“Hey,” Leon said suddenly. “There’s cats in there.”
“What?” Distracted from Jake, I glanced over to see Leon staring through the glass and into the cat room with almost childlike wonder on his face. “Did you just notice that?”
“Leon doesn’t notice anything before his coffee kicks in, except for how annoying we all are,” Jake informed me. “You’re gonna meet the real version of him anytime now.”
“It’s like a real-life Neko Atsume!” Leon exclaimed in delight, before backpedaling. “Not that I know what that app is. If it even is an app. Unless, of course, you find my knowledge of the cat game sweet and whimsical, in which case, I definitely know what Neko Atsume is.”
“We started playing when our flight to Amsterdam got delayed for five hours on our last tour,” Jake told me.
“We couldn’t play Pokémon Go because security banned the app after Aspen missed his call time by wandering off trying to catch a Frigibax and ended up walking straight into a wedding reception. ”
“Aspen?” I questioned in surprise. The oldest one who had such carefully crafted interview answers and who seemed to always know what he was doing? Him?
“Yep. The daughter was a fan, though, so it worked out. And Aspen’s great at toasts. But our head of security still made us all delete the app off our phones in front of him.”
“Which is why I rebounded with Neko Atsume,” Leon explained. “It was supposed to be a fling, but I’m involved now. I’m committed.” He pointed at the cat room. “Can we go in?”
“Of course,” I said, before giving him a once-over. The café was empty now, but hopefully it wouldn’t be later. Just in case anyone saw Leon, he shouldn’t be wearing something so out of the ordinary. “Maybe take off the trench? It makes you stand out.”
Obligingly, Leon peeled off the tan coat, revealing his outfit underneath.
Which consisted of jeans and a graphic tee that said Sandwich Rap beneath a cartoon, big-eyed sandwich wrap holding a microphone. And rapping, one would assume.
“Never mind,” I said. “Put the trench coat back on.”
Leon frowned and looked down at his tee, pulling at the hem so he could see it better. “What’s wrong with it? This is my fun shirt.”
“That’s true,” Jake said, playing devil’s advocate. “It is his fun shirt.” He took another long look before succumbing. “Butt-ugly, though.”
“That’s just your jealousy talking,” Leon retorted merrily, before turning back to me. “Our stylist never lets me wear it,” he admitted, shifting on his feet, where he wore one red Converse and one green one. “She says it’s ‘distracting.’”
Well, she was not wrong. Still, something about what Leon said reminded me of Jake. “Your stylist always controls what you wear?”
Leon nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of better that way. One time, I didn’t listen and picked out my own outfit for a meet and greet.” The tips of his ears turned bright pink. “The comments online were . . . not nice.”
Sympathy twisted inside my chest. It’s bad enough when your classmates make comments on your outfit.
I couldn’t imagine being bullied by strangers around the world.
It made me not want Leon to cover his loud shirt up at all, despite my initial worry it’d be attention-grabbing. He shouldn’t have to feel judged here.
Maybe if anyone saw Leon, they’d be too busy reading the terrible pun to pay attention to his face and recognize him.
“All right,” I said. “Don’t worry about the shirt. Come and meet the cats.”
***
Exactly ten minutes later, Leon—fully awake and docile as a lamb like Jake had promised—lay flat on his back, with three cats on top of him.
“I’ve found my happy place,” Leon announced peacefully, sounding entirely different from when he first walked in. “I feel so calm.”
“Cat purrs will do that to you,” I said, figuring he’d earned himself a nap.
Jake, however, had no such feelings. Instead, he leaned over and poked his bandmate’s cheek. “Come on, you can’t fall asleep yet.”
Leon grunted. “Why not?”
“Because I need to ask you some questions about the guys first.”
“Them,” Leon said, not too tired to sound disdainful. “They don’t let me sleep either.”
“I know, buddy,” Jake replied sympathetically. “But have you heard from Aspen? He never replied to me.”
“I’ve tri—” Leon attempted to sit up, but found he couldn’t move beneath the cats.
“Uh, a little help here?” I reached over and gently helped him remove thirty pounds of fur so he could sit up.
“Thank you. So, uh, yeah, I tried texting Aspen too, but didn’t get a reply.
I don’t know if it’s because he’s ignoring me, or if he just hasn’t figured out how to properly use his phone yet. ”
I raised a skeptical brow. Seriously? “Why wouldn’t Aspen know how to work his own phone?”
“Because he just teamed up with Dlareme Technologies to promote their new high-tech cell phone,” Jake answered. “But Aspen doesn’t really know how to work it. Last time I saw him, he kept taking screenshots instead of answering a call.”
I gave both Jake and Leon a skeptical look. “But if he’s not tech-savvy, why would they ask Aspen to promote a phone?”
“Because he wanted to be a brand ambassador, and US has the perfect song,” Leon answered. “Aspen’s supposed to sing it, and then say, But that won’t happen to you on our phone.”
How would one of their songs be perfect for a tech ad? I frowned in confusion, and Jake noticed.
“He’s talking about ‘Dropped Call,’” Jake explained, referencing the US single that started with a phone ringing. Softly, he sang, “I go to talk to you, but I can’t figure it out.”
“My mind’s in a freefall,” I sang where Jake left off, recalling the lyrics as soon as I heard the tune. “The words won’t leave my mouth.”
Leon jumped in. “It’s like a—” He paused dramatically, like the song did, cutting off sound as if it were a spotty connection. Then he drummed his hands lightly on the floor, mimicking the cymbal clashes that came when the music kicked back in. “Dropped call!”
“Every time I talk to you,” we all sang, “it’s like a—”
Jake raised his hand, before closing his fist, causing us all to cut off at once, since the song ended mid-verse to honor its title.
“I came up with the ending,” he commented.
Of course Jake would help write a song about not being able to have a conversation through the phone.
“That checks out,” I muttered.
Jake sent me a strange look and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Leon interrupted him.
“So, Lucy, you can sing and you know the words to our hits,” Leon said, studying me in deep consideration before turning to Jake.
“Have you considered giving Aspen and Phillip more time to cool off and just letting Lucy fill in?” He sounded like he was only half joking.
“I’ll take Aspen’s baritone verses. You and Lucy can split Phillip’s tenor ones.
We can be a trio. Lots of good things come in threes. Like the amigos.”
I glanced at Jake, grinning. “Or Josie and the Pussycats.”
“Alvin and the Chipmunks,” he countered back, just as fast and twice as sarcastic.
“The Three Musketeers,” Leon added.
“Technically, that story’s about a group of four,” Jake pointed out with a frown.
In school, Jake had always excelled at English. I studied him curiously. Did he still like rereading the classics?
Leon, however, did not care for literary schematics. “I was talking about the candy bar,” he replied.
Jake rolled his eyes.
“Well, as nice as an offer as that is, Leon,” I interrupted, “I don’t think fans would be happy to tune into a livestream and see me instead.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Leon said, leaning back on his hands. “I think you’re very musical and inspirational, Luciana.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised at the flirtatious compliment. I hadn’t expected anything like that from him. Jake shot a decidedly unfriendly look at Leon, which Leon met with an angelic beam.
“Thanks, but it’s Lucy,” I reminded him. “No matter what Jake’s told you.”
“Right,” Leon said. “Lucy. Of course.”
He batted his eyes at me innocently, but I couldn’t help but feel he was up to something.
Suddenly, I heard a gasp, and all three of us turned to see Amber standing in the doorway of the cat room. Her jaw opened, about to let out another understandably excited shriek.
Remembering how Leon asked me not to scream earlier, I turned toward him apprehensively, ready to warn him to be nice to my friend. I didn’t care how famous they were, no one could be mean to Amber on my watch.
But no such warning was needed. Leon simply smiled.
“I’m caffeinated and fully awake,” he announced, throwing his arms in the air. “Let’s do the screaming thing!”