Higher Octave (Heavy Influence #2.5), Page 3

  ***

  The cool bay breeze rustled my hair, and my date's heels clicked on the cement sidewalk, echoing off the surrounding cottages. We snaked up and around a short hill to Marshall and Bobby's home, just a few blocks away from my small hotel. All I could think about was how it would all unfold. I just wanted to get it over with.

  A horizontal dark wood fence surrounded a small well-maintained yard of a one-story contemporary home with Balinese accents. Little white lights were strung up the slender tree trunks of what looked like prehistoric bonsai trees, and cracked-glass lanterns the size of grapefruits hung throughout their branches.

  When I stepped into the house, I wondered whom I'd see first. I turned into the vast living room. Oversized contemporary sofas and white upholstered chairs sat on sealed cement floors. Dark wood coffee tables and end tables sat upon groovy patterned blue area rugs. The ceiling was vaulted, and beams and silver ducts were exposed. Modern silver lighting fixtures hung down here and there, and cactus and succulent plants accented the sparse setting. It was an open floor plan, and the kitchen was at the far end.

  I scanned the crowd, looking for Aly. She was somewhere near. I could feel it. I heard Marshall's voice and turned and the first set of eyes I met were Aly's. She smiled and waved. I did the same, and looked back at my companion, whose long blond hair flowed down her back over her black body-hugging dress. She was beautiful, no doubt. I wondered what Aly thought of seeing us together, and I looked around for Nathan. Instead, I spotted Nadine, Aly's best friend since high school.

  "Alyssa!" Marshall's voice sang out, and I tried not to follow his movement. His hair was still lavender, and he wore a white button-up and cuffed white pants. His feet were bare, and his toenails were pink. "Look at you, you're so ravishing in that red dress! Holy moly! And when did you cut your hair! I love it!" Marshall cooed at Alyssa. It was hard for anyone not to stare at them.

  Marshall was pinging off the walls, and Bobby went over to greet them with arms wide open, embracing Aly tightly. "You look great. Wow," he complimented Aly, putting his arm around Marshall's shoulders.

  "Oh my God! Let me get a picture of you two! I'm so excited for you guys." Aly dug in her little black clutch, taking out a phone, and turned to place her bag on the arm of the sofa nearest her. She glanced up over the room, in my direction. I was staring at her, right over the shoulder of my date, and our eyes locked.

  She looked away quickly and turned back to Marshall and Bobby. "Okay, get ready." She held the phone up clumsily. I could tell she was nervous, and it made me want to go to her. Bobby gave her a gentle smile and mouthed breathe.

  "Nadine, will you please take our picture?" She jumped in the middle of Marshall and Bobby.

  I couldn't take it anymore, and had to go say hello. I grabbed the hand of my date and strolled over to them.

  "Long time, no see," I said, smiling, letting go of Lillianna's hand. I couldn't help but give Aly an adoring sweep with my eyes and extended my arms for a hug. I had to feel her. She didn't move. "Shorter hair suits you. Polished elegance. The lady in red is ravishing," I complimented, but she wasn't having it.

  I tilted my head and then stepped to hug her. Aly loosely wrapped her arms around me and I breathed her in. "You're beautiful, but you know that," I said softly in her ear as I backed away. She looked flustered, and her cheeks were bright pink - Yes! I got to her.

  Nadine introduced herself to my date, and they chatted politely enough, but I cringed, like a permanent tick, at Nadine's intrusive questions. Lilliana answered with light-hearted grace: "We're just friends. My name is Lilliana. I'm from Scandinavia. I'm a model."

  I couldn't stop smiling at Aly and the forced enjoyment that was stamped on her face. I knew her so well. I could have laughed out loud. If it were like old days, she would have turned to me, mock barfing. It was killing her as much as it was killing me. The tension seemed to subside as we continued to break the ice, with the exception of me continuously glancing at Aly's hand, the one with the ring on it. I wondered if she noticed. It was as if she kept trying to hide it with her other hand.

  Bobby announced that dinner was now ready and being served. He slid open doors that I thought were a wall, exposing another vast room that held two fourteen-person tables. They were elegantly decorated with vases filled with banana leaves and Birds of Paradise. Masculine granite-colored table settings were expertly placed.

  "Open seating, my friends!" Marshall clapped his hands.

  Aly didn't hesitate to sit down, and Nadine sat across from her. I couldn't help myself, and sat right next to Aly. My date sat across from me, next to Nadine.

  "Well then. Seeing this is gonna get interesting." Nadine clucked her tongue and shot me a brief stare, one that Lilliana missed. "I'm gonna grab a bottle."

  I gave a hearty laugh, and Lilliana laughed with me, even though she was totally clueless. Aly huffed. "Are you fucking with me? Leave me alone," she leaned over, whispering to me.

  Aly glanced at Lilliana, who had zero idea what was happening. Lilliana struck up a conversation with a person behind her. It looked like someone Marshall worked with, a well put-together, stylish male. I'd seen them chatting earlier.

  "I'm just happy to see you. Just trying to catch up," I said quietly, smirking. I wanted to waggle my eyebrows at her, but she would have probably knocked me out.

  "Mmhmm." Aly took a big gulp of wine, trying to ignore me.

  Nadine returned with the bottle she'd promised, clunking it down on the table.

  As we sat, being served our salads, Nadine shared what she'd been up to, and so did I. We ate our dinner of Chilean sea bass and Asian-inspired stir-fry with saffron rice. I asked Aly every question I could think of about her school, her travels playing volleyball, her parents, and brother and sister, Kyle and Allison. I explained to Lilliana that Aly and I grew up next door to each other, and that was it. I didn't ask once about Nathan or the ring she wore. It was as if they didn't exist. Lilliana shared her latest travel adventure to Morocco—she had fallen off a camel and broke three ribs.

  "I'm just starting to work out again. I gained so much weight," she said as she sipped her champagne.

  Aly sighed, rolling her eyes at me, and excused herself with the empty bottle of wine. I got up a moment later and followed her. I walked into the kitchen and didn't see her right away. I searched the perimeter and noticed a nook off to the right of the kitchen. A wine chiller sat under the small counter, and Aly stood next to it. I looked around as I made my way toward her, making sure no one was watching me.

  "Hey." I said, trying not to scare her. She glanced over her shoulder as I slid the door halfway shut. I could no longer see the kitchen. That meant no one could see us.

  "Jake, what are you doing?" She turned back, focusing on opening the bottle. "Aren't you worried your date might come looking for you?"

  "No." I kept my voice low.

  "What do you want?" She practically whispered.

  I stepped up next to her and leaned against the counter, watching her spin the opener into the cork. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. One last, sober, time." I swallowed hard, trying to control myself.

  She closed her eyes. "Okay."

  "Let me help you."

  I stepped behind her and wrapped my arms around her. Feeling her warmth shocked to life what I thought was dead. I knew she felt it too, because her breath hitched. I ran my hands over her smooth arms and held her hands in mine. She let go of the wine bottle and opener and laid her hands flat on the counter. I placed my palms on top of hers hands, coaxing our fingers to curl together. Then wrapped our arms together, around her.

  2

  Alyssa Montgomery. Aly. My Alycat, I thought as I held her. The ring Nathan gave her mocked me beneath my grip - 'I won. She's mine.'

  Nah, not yet, motherfucker. Not until she says 'I do.'

  I would ignore it. I wouldn't say one word about it. She wasn't married yet; that's all that mattered to me. Her little red dress accentuated her ti
ny waist just right. It beaconed me to take it in my hands, to spin her around to face me, but I remained still. She was killing me without even knowing; or maybe she did.

  I'd mentally prepared to see her, one hundred percent. I'd convinced myself that she'd moved on after Bobby informed me of her engagement. It was just the kick in the pants I needed. I'd resigned myself to thanking her for fueling my musical fire; I had to give her that. Everything I'd written was a derivative of my experiences and longing for her. I knew this and looked forward to finding other inspiration. I'd never wanted that before. I had a new future in music, and I was devoted to healing and staying clean and healthy. I'd reinvented myself. This was what I'd believed, until I laid eyes on her again. The connection was instant. The invisible, unrelenting bond gripped and smothered me. I was pulled to her as if I had no control. I didn't have any control. When she stepped into the room, she radiated a force so extreme it rushed to me and swallowed me whole.

  And now here I was…no control, holding her, hoping it wouldn't be the last time.

  Having her in my arms again and filling my senses had me losing my mind. Standing behind her, I wanted to press my growing desire against her, but I abstained. She was fighting me, and then she wasn't. I knew she still wanted me, too; otherwise she would have turned, said something nasty, and left. She allowed me to touch her, to kiss her, and feel her skin without bolting from the small room. I knew she was as tortured as I.

  When her voice quivered with the words - "I don't dream about you anymore." It stung, but I knew she was lying. Maybe she didn't dream of me as often, but I knew she did. Especially when I felt the longing release from her when her breath caught for a brief second.

  I still had a chance.

  I kissed her other shoulder and backed away, clearing my throat. "I'm sorry. I can't help myself."

  She remained still for a long silent moment, finally facing me. Her eyes were glassy, and she was flushed. "I can't be here with you."

  Yes you can, you can do whatever you want. "Have dinner with me when we get back to LA."

  "You're not hearing me, Jake. I can't do this with you anymore. I had years to think about this." She twirled away from me, bewilderment cloaked her face. "I wanted this moment, right now, to happen. I prayed for it. Like all the other times." Her hands moved under her chin in prayer, and she stared at me long and hard. But instead of saying more, she moved to exit and slid the milky glass door all the way open. People in the kitchen looked in our direction, but went back to their business. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life on a roller-coaster, worrying if you're gonna freak again. Worrying if you're gonna…" She threw her arms out, vexed, and shook her head. "I'm happy you're sober. I love you, Jake. I always will."

  She spun out the door, but I grabbed her hand and pulled her back in, embracing her. "For now," I whispered and kissed her forehead, letting her go. "It's not over until it's over." I almost pointed to the ring on her hand.

  We didn't speak for the rest of the night, but I kept meeting her gaze.

  Until next time.

  The next morning, Marty packed his bags into the car as I sipped on my coffee, looking over the bay. "Aly's probably asleep in one of these little hotels."

  "Mhmm. Where's Lilliana?" He changed the subject. I supposed he was over my obsession with Aly. I'm sure everyone was.

  "She's staying. Visiting friends or some shit." I could care less about Lilliana. I'd only invited her because I thought Nathan would be there, guarding his treasure. I took him not being there as another sign of hope.

  Marty grunted arranging the bags. He stomped his foot. "Are you gonna just stand there? Hand me your bags."

  "Did you just stomp your foot?" I scoffed.

  He rolled his eyes at me. "I'm tired. Hand me your bags."

  "Why, Martin." I wagged my finger at him and bent to grab my bag. "Did you drink too much last night and fuck around with Nadine?" Marty ignored me, snatching my bag away from me, and it made me snigger. I tsk'd at him. "You don't wanna disappoint your parents by your continued hanky-panky with the likes of a non-Jewish girl, do you?"

  He stood rigid, not amused by my teasing. He adjusted his glasses. "It's none of your business."

  "Oh come on. I'm just fuckin' with you." I slapped him on the back kindly and shoved him out of the way. "Get in the car. I got this."

  I could tell Marty wasn't feeling well. He was the most disheveled I'd ever seen him. He wasn't wearing his signature, neatly pressed button-up dress shirt. He wore a black zip hoodie over a t-shirt. That never happened. I wanted to offer to drive, but fear interceded. Maybe I'd try to drive around once I figured out where I'd be staying back in LA.

  "Marty, man, sorry that I can't drive. I thought about it, and I need to…like, do it around a familiar hood."

  He ran his hand over his head. "It's okay." He sighed. "We didn't sleep at all. I need at least seven hours' sleep. I'm never drinking that much again. She certainly loves that champagne."

  I chuckled. "You can sleep on the plane."

  "Yeah."

  Marty was flying back to New York from San Francisco. He'd moved into the guestroom of the apartment Aly and I used to share after he'd helped Sienna clear all her shit out of there. I told him he just had to pay the utilities and make sure it was always ready for me to come home. I'd not set foot in the place since I hit rock bottom. I'd yet to sell it because of Aly. I almost put it on the market the day after Bobby told me about Aly and Nathan. Now I was glad I hadn't. I'd give it one last shot with Aly. No matter how long it took, until she married me, or someone else. If she married someone else, I'd sell it with everything in it, including the black and white portraits of her that'd traveled with me all over the world.

  Would I really do that? I don't know. Maybe I wouldn't; probably not.

  At the airport, I encountered a few fans and took a few pictures. The meaningful well wishes were uplifting, and they'd all mentioned the post I'd made of myself in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. They were all excited and looking forward to my new music. It'd been a long time since I'd casually interacted with fans.

  I floated through the airport with a stupid smile on my face and actually said hello to a few people. I would have never done that in the past, ever. There was something to say about being twenty-five and living the kind of life I've led. I was a survivor. I had stories to share. I'd be sharing them soon enough. I rewound the conversation Marty and I'd had on the way to the airport:

  "You need to come back in about a month."

  "Jake. I can't be driving you around."

  "Nah. I got that figured out. I'm gonna start this new solo project, and I want you to document it all. I want to share the good, the ugly, and the resurrection."

  I finally got a smile from him.

  I called my mom as soon as the plane touched down in Los Angeles, and she was beyond delighted to oblige. I'd avoided her and Notting for basically the last several years, ever since I'd found out that Notting was my real, biological father. I'd wanted to protect my mother from the knowledge of my cheating "father", Michael, a man with whom I'd spent a loving childhood. Michael died not knowing that I wasn't really his. What did it matter anyway? My mother had her own skeletons. It was just all so fucked up. I never really talked to her about the entire ordeal. The only person I really felt sorry for was Notting, and I wasn't sure I felt sorry anymore. He got his son and the love of his life, even though he'd waited thirty years.

  Holy shit. Was that bound to be me?

  Notting and my mother Kate reminded me so much of what I didn't want to address; everyone's infidelity, everyone's lies and secrets, including my own. Maybe if I took the time to actually invite my mom into my life…

  Fuck. I want a real chance with Aly…or anyone, for that matter.

  I almost said my thoughts out loud as I stood curbside waiting for my mom, looking around as if people would be reading my mind. It was hot, and the mixture of heat and the smell of jet fuel and car exhaust nauseated
me. I hadn't stood curbside since I don't remember when…probably high school, usually because it would have been too crazy with fans. Today I took it all in stride, and stood for pictures and signed autographs. I'd never asked anyone's name before, but as I stared up from the black ink that stained the blue piece of paper I held in my hand, I decided, what the hell.

  Happy brown eyes sparkled at me over a grin so big, it tugged at my heart. A teenaged girl with wavy black hair bounced on her toes. I winked at her as she took the paper from my hand.

  "How old are you?" I knew I probably shouldn't have asked that, and before I could apologize, her words rushed out so fast I couldn't help but smile.

  "Fourteen." She bounced. "I'm gonna be fifteen next month. Thank you so much. I had to do a double-take standing at the baggage carousel. I was like, is that! Wait, is that?" She cocked her head with grand gesture. "Oh my God, that's…and it's you! Thank you! Can I take a picture with you?"

  I chuckled. "Sure."

  Our faces appeared on the screen of her phone, and she snapped three times.

  "Okay thanks so much! Your music changed my life. I'm so happy you're okay. I prayed so hard for you, because you're so amazing you don't even know!" She hugged me so quickly and took off.

  I barely had a chance to wave before another person came up to me. There was a small crowd for about twenty minutes before I realized my mom had pulled up, and she was watching the whole scene. For the first time since I was a senior in high school, I'd interacted with every single fan that wanted a moment with me.

  I was stoked to be home, my real home. It was also a bittersweet moment, because Aly's house seemed to mock me when I got out of the car and stared at it. It looked the same as it ever did, but she wasn't inside it. She lived in Malibu with roommates, apparently. When she'd shared that bit of info with everyone at the dinner table the night before, I wanted to ask if she had her own room. She probably did, and I surged with jealousy at the thought of Nathan in her bed.

  "Where's Notting?" I wondered when I didn't see his truck in the driveway when we pulled in.

  "He's at work."

  "What?" I was shocked. He didn't have to work anymore. "Where's he workin'?"

  "He's been consulting at an agency in Beverly Hills. He's bored."