Wethering the Storm

Chapter SIX

I’m at the point of banging my head against my laptop screen when Adele starts singing to me.
Glancing down I see Jake’s name flashing. The smile it brings to my lips stays there as I answer it. “Hey, baby.”
“How’s it going?”
“Not good. You’re incredibly hard to write about, you know.”
“But incredibly easy to love.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s only because you have a big willy,” I joke.
“Cock, baby. Call it cock, or dick. I’ll even swing for snake. But not willy. Willy just sounds so wrong, on so many levels.”
“No it doesn’t! It’s a British term. Have you forgotten those altogether?”
“No, but that’s one I will gladly forget.”
I hear voices in the background.
“Are you with someone?”
“I’m in the studio with the guys. Zane’s here.”
“You just said ‘cock,’ ‘dick,’ and ‘willy’ in front of them.” I groan.
He lets out a loud laugh. “They’ve heard me say worse, baby, trust me.”
“Hmm,” I murmur, cheeks flaming. Jake may have no problem talking sex in front of his friends, but I do.
“Anyway, I was just calling because Zane has managed to fix up a spot for Vintage supporting Raine tonight. Their support pulled out on them last minute. I wondered if you fancied going to watch them?”
Raine is a hugely successful indie band in LA with a massive local following. Vintage is the band who supported TMS at Madison Square Garden, the ones who won the radio contest. I really love their sound, and I mentioned to Jake that I thought they definitely had something. He listened to some of their stuff—he hadn’t been paying attention at the show for many reasons—and liked what he heard, so he sent Zane to New York to check them out while we were on holiday.
Zane loved them and offered them a deal on the spot. They are now signed to the label and are in LA recording their first album.
I like the fact that I pointed out their potential to Jake, and he listened to me. I love that he cares about my opinions on these things.
“You’re asking if I want to watch a live band I encouraged you to sign? Hmm, let me think…”
“Pick you up at seven?” he says, chuckling.
“Are you not coming home first?”
“No, we’ve got a good flow going at the moment, getting some new stuff down. I’ll shower and change at the studio, and then I’ll come by and pick you up.”
“Thinking on it, why don’t I just ask Dave to bring me to the show, and I’ll meet you there. He’ll be coming anyway, won’t he? So it just makes sense.”
Even though things aren’t as “follow Jake around” crazy fanwise in LA, he still has Dave or Ben with us when we go out. I get the feeling they’re around more for me than him, though. I think he worries about my safety.
“Yeah, okay, good idea,” he agrees.
Jake tells me where the show is, so I jot the address down and hang up. I stare at my computer screen for a few more minutes, then close it with a sigh. I head into my dressing room area to figure out what to wear tonight.


I’m seated in the back of the car and Dave is driving us to the venue. The show is at some hip club in downtown LA.
Getting my mirror out of my clutch, I check my hair and makeup. I opted for hair down and curly, dark smoky eyes, and pink lip gloss. I thought the makeup should match the outfit. I’m wearing my new black knee-length stretch-leather skirt and white off-the-shoulder sheer silk crepe top.
As the top is sheer, I avoided wearing any of my new lacy bras, instead going with my white bra with gentle detail on it, which covers all the important bits. On my feet I’m wearing my new Christian Louboutin peep-toe studded black heels. They are sexy as hell. I know Jake will totally approve of them.
Dave pulls the car around the back of the venue, into the reserved parking area. I see Jake’s Aston Martin.
I climb out of the car and follow Dave to the metal door, leading into the back entrance of the club. He bangs his fist on it a couple of times.
A burly guy opens the door and greats Dave like they know each other well.
Dave gestures me through the door first, then I wait to follow him.
He leads me down a corridor, through a door, then another, and then we’re in the club.
Looking to the left I see people setting up the stage, preparing for Vintage, who are due to play their set in just under an hour. There’s music playing provided by the resident DJ, and people are on the dance floor already.
I spot Jake standing at the bar, drinking a bottle of beer, looking his ever-gorgeous self, wearing his blue Led Zeppelin “Song Remains the Same” T-shirt, slim-fitted bleached, ripped jeans, and black motorcycle boots.
He looks as hot as hell. And he is all mine.
Ben’s standing off to the side by the bar, with what looks to be a soft drink. Leaving me, Dave goes over to join him.
At the bar with Jake is a blond guy. A very good-looking blond guy. He looks to be about the same height as Jake, and he’s wearing a white Oxford shirt, which he fills out with no problem, and gunmetal grey trousers. He screams urbane sophistication, the complete and utter contrast of Jake’s bad-boy rock-star image.
Jake’s face lights up at my approach. Then I see his eyes move down my body, and a frown mars his perfect face.
Oh no. He hates my outfit.
Feeling instantly self-conscious, tucking my clutch under my arm, I run my hands down my skirt and pick up my pace to him.
“Hey,” I say when I reach him.
He slides his hand around my waist. Pulling me close, he plants a kiss on my lips.
“You hate my outfit,” I whisper under his mouth.
“No, I just hate that every man in this place can see your tits through it,” he growls, kissing me one more time before releasing me.
Shit. I thought I looked nice. I guess not.
Turning to the man beside him, Jake says, “Tru, I’d like you to meet Zane. He’s the VP at the label. Zane, this is the future Mrs. Wethers.”
Zane smiles. Smoldering chocolate-brown eyes meet mine. “Great to finally meet you, Tru.” He offers his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Taking my hand, he lifts it to his lips and kisses it.
“I hope he was saying mostly complimentary things,” I say through my now-dry mouth, sliding a glance in Jake’s direction.
“All complimentary.” Zane smiles, releasing my hand. “You’re just as beautiful as Jake described.”
Just not in tonight’s outfit, apparently.
Zane’s smooth. Very smooth. But not in a slimy way. More in an “I’m well practiced at getting women into my bed and they leave very satisfied” kind of way. The guy screams confidence and awesome sex. Just like Jake.
“Where the f*ck have you been, ass-face?” Jake says over my head.
Turning, I see Tom sauntering toward us.
“Nowhere. Hey, Tru,” he says, turning his eyes toward me. “Nice top.” His eyes flicker down to my chest, lingering longer than necessary.
“Stop staring at my fiancée’s tits,” Jake growls.
F*ck. Thanks, Tom.
“Hey, I’m a guy…,” he protests, “and they’re just there on display, what do expect me to do? Awesome rack, Tru, seriously awesome. I’m real glad you decided to put them on show tonight. You really should show them off more often.”
“Do you want me to break your face?” Jake says, half joking.
At least I think he is.
Pulling my clutch up to cover my chest, I say, “Haven’t you got better things to be doing, Tom? Like finding your next doggie bag to take home, rather than staring at something you can never have?”
“Ooh, harsh!” Tom slaps his hand over his heart.
“I like you more and more by the minute, Tru.” Zane grins at me. “What are you drinking?”
“I’ll get these,” Jake says. “Your usual, baby?”
“Yes, please.”
“Tom, you want a beer?”
Tuning out the guys, I glance around the club. It’s a nice place. A little grungy, but definitely somewhere I would have hung out back home.
I notice many eyes looking in our direction. Mostly at Jake. Well, all at Jake. Most of them don’t even have the decency to look away when they see I’ve caught them staring at my husband-to-be.
Nice.
“Thanks,” I say as Jake hands me my margarita.
“So she blew you out?” I catch Zane saying to Tom.
“No.”
“The fact you went back there to try your luck with her, and you’re out here with us, definitely says she did, man,” Jake says with a smile.
“I never said I went to try my luck. I went to offer my support.”
Jake laughs. “The only support you would have been offering her was up against a wall.”
“What’s this?” I say, taking a sip of my drink. “Tom got rejected by a woman?” I give Tom a mock look of shock.
“Yep,” Jake replies, flashing wide eyes at me. “He tried to get into Lyla’s pants, and being the smart girl she is, she blew him out like a candle.”
Lyla is the ridiculously pretty lead singer of Vintage, and apparently, a very smart girl indeed.
“Shut up, f*ck-face, she didn’t blow me out. I would’ve had to try something for that to happen. Not that it ever would. Women can’t say no to the cat.”
“Wow, man, in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never had a girl say no to you,” Jake says, ignoring Tom’s defensiveness. “Wait ’til Denny hears this.” Jake laughs. “Actually, I might ring him now.” He reaches for his phone.
“For f*ck’s sake!” Tom groans, grabbing his beer.
Zane pats him on the back, keeping a straight face. “Don’t sweat it, man, it happens to the best of us. Never to me, but I totally feel for you.” Zane cracks up laughing.
“I like Lyla,” I pitch in. I’ll get the twat back for the top comment before. “She seems like a great girl. Really attractive. Smart. Shame for you, Tom, being blown out like that.” I smirk at him.
“Jesus Christ! The lot of you are doing my f*ckin’ head in! She was a nonstarter. I don’t put the effort in for a woman. I don’t need to. There are plenty more willing to step up to the plate.” He nods in the direction of some open gawkers. “On that note, I’ll catch you f*ckers later. Tru,” he says, eyes going straight to my chest, “a pleasure as always. I hope to see you in that top again soon.”
“F*ck off, Tom,” Jake snaps.
Backing up, grinning, Tom winks at Jake and heads in the direction of the waiting girls.
Needing a reprieve, I ask Jake, “Where is the bathroom?”
“Through the archway.” My eyes follow his pointing finger.
I put my drink on the bar, place a loving kiss on his lips, and head to the bathroom.
I’ve just sat on the toilet to take a pee, when I hear them come into the bathroom, laughing and talking.
“Oh my God, did you see what she was wearing?”
“I know. She looks like a hooker. A see-through top! And what about that skirt? I thought leather skirts went out with Pretty Woman.”
I glance down at my leather skirt, which is currently sitting around my thighs, and my face starts to prickle.
“She is so totally batting out of her league with him. How the f*ck did she ever manage to get a rock on her finger? I’ll never know. Definitely not because of her dog-ugly face. Maybe she’s got a magic vagina!” She laughs loudly at her own joke.
I twist my engagement ring around my finger.
“I heard they grew up together,” the other girl says, “and that he’s apparently into her big-time. Always has been. She’s the love of his life, and that’s why he never settled down with anyone. Or so I heard.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. This is Jake Wethers we’re talking about. He might be tripping on the English bitch now, but give him a few more weeks, and she’ll be gone.”
“You think?”
“Yep. If Jake was going to settle down, it wouldn’t be with someone like her.”
“You?” The second one giggles.
“He kept coming back for more, didn’t he? Told me I was the best f*ck he’d ever had. Coming from him, I took that as a big compliment. I bet he’d still be good for a go now.”
“You think so? From what I hear he’s playing the monogamous card nowadays. Never looks at any other women. He knocked Cherie Walters back the other day and was none too polite about it, from what I heard.”
“Yeah, well, Jake never could say no to me. Especially when I was on my knees in his office, sucking him off.”
I’m going to throw up.
“I knew you were f*cking him, but sucking him off in his office? Class!” She laughs.
“I turned up to see him one day at his office, wearing only my underwear under my trench, and I sucked his cock while he sat at his desk. Then he f*cked me senseless over it.”
Oh God. I close my eyes and put my head in my hands.
“You’re so bad.” The other one giggles.
“Maybe I’ll go offer my services to him now if that British twinkie isn’t around.” I hear her slap her lips together and then the click of a purse closing. “I’m sure he’ll be up for a quickie in the back. If not, I might just pay him a visit at the label tomorrow.”
Heels click away from me; then I hear the door shut with a bang.
My whole body is shaking. My head prickling. Why didn’t I just burst out there and make my presence known?
Now she’s going to go out there and proposition Jake while I’m here like an idiot with my panties around my ankles.
Hot tears sting my eyes.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare bloody cry, Trudy Bennett, over a couple of nasty bitches.
It’s at times like this I wish Simone were here. I know she would have marched out there and slapped them stupid.
Normally I would have said something.
But I know why I didn’t.
Because what could I say? Yes, Jake was a whore of the worst kind, but he’s not like that anymore!
They’d have laughed me out of here.
Honestly, part of me fears it’s still in him. That one day soon, I won’t be enough to keep him.
Forcing back the tears, my face burning with the shame of my cowardice, I finish on the toilet, wash my hands, straighten myself out, and head back into the club.
As I come from the archway, I spot Jake across the room still at the bar. Zane’s nowhere to be seen, and Jake is now talking to a stunning blonde. Legs up to her neck, skirt there to meet them.
Bile rises in my throat, alongside an intense shot of rage.
I’m just about to march over there and give the blonde tramp a move-along speech, when I hear my name called from behind.
Turning, I see one of my old journo buddies from the circuit back in the UK, Jefferson Dunn. I’d heard he had come to America to work for a magazine.
Even though I’m pissed right now, a smile still crosses my face to see someone from back home.
“Jefferson!” I beam.
“Trudy Bennett,” he says, smiling. “Look at you. How the hell are you?” He envelops me in a hug. I instantly get a whiff of strong alcohol on him.
“I’m good. Great, actually, thanks. How are you?” I say, stepping back from his embrace.
“I’m great. All the better for seeing you. I heard you’d moved out here—with Jake Wethers, of all people.”
“Yes.” I lift my shoulders lightly, lips remaining in a smile.
I really don’t want to talk about Jake right now.
“Where is the rock star?” Jefferson asks, looking around. “I’d love to meet him.”
Not wanting to point out Jake and the fact that he’s at the bar with a leggy blonde—especially to Jefferson, who’s always on the tout for a story—I say, “Oh, he’s busy right now. Business, you know.”
“Sure…you’ll have to introduce me to him later.” He takes a sip of his drink, which looks to be whiskey. “What brings you here tonight?” he asks.
“The support act is signed to Jake’s label. What about you?”
“Work. I’m doing a piece on Raine.”
“Right, cool.” I shift on my feet, distracted.
I want to go over to Jake and the blonde, who, from what I can see in my glances over Jefferson’s shoulder, is shamelessly flirting herself all over him, but I don’t want to come off as rude to Jefferson.
“If Jake’s busy with business right now, how about I keep you company until he’s done? You want to dance?” He tilts his head in the direction of the dance floor. I see his eyes flicker to my chest.
I’m throwing this bloody top in the bin when I get home.
“Um…”
I really don’t want to dance. I would actually quite like to go home, to be honest.
I sneak another glance over Jefferson’s shoulder at Jake. Jake says something to the blonde, and she throws back her head and laughs, putting her hand on his chest.
I have a flashback to Paris and the redhead. The redhead Jake kissed in front of me, to get back at me for not breaking up with Will, after he’d begged me to.
Jealousy sears through me like a red-hot poker. I grit my teeth.
“You know what? I would love to dance,” I say to Jefferson through my teeth.
Screw Jake and his blonde…and all of his f*cking conquests for that matter.
Pulling out the strap on my clutch, I hang it over my shoulder. Jefferson downs his drink, and, taking his offered hand, I let him lead me through the crowd to the centre of the dance floor.
We start off dancing separately, but it’s not long before Jefferson moves in closer.
“You look great tonight,” Jefferson says, leaning in to my ear. “But then, you always do.”
I feel his arm go around my waist.
F*ck.
I stiffen in his embrace.
Jake won’t be happy if he sees this.
Isn’t that the point?
“Thanks, you too.” I pull away from him, but I feel his grip on my back tighten, holding me in place, and he starts to dance into me, grinding his hips near mine.
Ugh.
He’s not even a good dancer.
Trying not to cringe at his awkward hip movements, I scrunch my eyes tightly, trying to figure a way out of this.
I’m such a bloody idiot at times.
I’m on the dance floor with Mr. Bean’s version of Saturday Night Fever, in a lame attempt to make Jake jealous, while Jake is probably none the wiser and off screwing the blonde bitch in the back room, not even giving a toss about me.
Now I feel sick, and I just want to go get drunk and kick the crap out of Jake and his whore. I’m just not sure in which order.
I’m about to wriggle out of Jefferson’s hold and make my excuses, when I feel him suddenly wrenched away from me.
My eyes shoot open to find a very angry-looking Jake staring down at me, and a very confused Jefferson trying to straighten out his shirt.
“What the hell!” Jefferson says, then I see his face change to awe when he realises it’s Jake who just pulled him off me.
“I thought you were in the bathroom,” Jake says to me, ignoring Jefferson. He sounds royally pissed off.
Standing tall, I say, “I was. Then I decided to come and dance.”
“And you didn’t think to come see me first?”
“What? I need to ask your permission to dance nowadays?” I narrow my eyes at him. “And anyway, you looked busy.”
“I’m never too busy for you. You should know that by now.” There’s no nice in his tone.
It’s at this point Jefferson decides to pipe up.
“I meant no disrespect,” Jefferson says. “I’ve known Tru for ages. We knew each other back in London.”
Jake stiffens. He turns to him and stares down the couple of inches to Jefferson’s face. “You meant no disrespect, but you had your hands all over my girl?”
Jefferson raises his hands in defence. “We were only dancing.” But the smile on his face says something else entirely.
It makes my body stiffen.
Jake’s face hardens. I worry for a second that he’s going to do something stupid.
“We’re leaving.” Jake grabs my arm and starts to pull me away.
“Hey, man, take it easy,” Jefferson puts his hand on Jake’s shoulder.
I know instantly he’s done the wrong thing.
Quick as lightning, Jake grabs Jefferson’s arm, twisting it back and under, forcing Jefferson to bend under the strain. Then Jake shoves him away, all but tossing him across the dance floor.
The crowd quickly parts, people shifting out of the way, watching as Jefferson lands hard on the dance floor.
Dave and Ben are beside us in a flash. Ben is quick to get Jefferson off the floor and to his feet.
“I was just dancing with her!” Jefferson shouts, clearly not having learned when to stop talking. Then I see a near smile on his face. Like he’s actually trying to antagonise Jake. “She’s an old friend.”
“She was a friend,” Jake says, hard and cold, taking a step toward him. “Not anymore. You keep your f*ckin’ hands off my girl, and if I ever see you near her again, you won’t be getting up from the floor the next time.”
A grin tilts Jefferson’s lips. “Is that a threat?”
Jake’s jaw clenches, and his fists ball at his sides. “More like a promise.”
Dave stands between Jake and Jefferson, which I couldn’t be more thankful for.
“Go,” Dave urges, pressing his hand against Jake’s arm.
I start to back up, wanting out of here.
Jake takes a step back, moving with me, when Jefferson says loudly, “Call me, Tru.”
Jake moves so quickly, he’s almost a blur. Luckily, Dave is faster and catches hold of Jake before he can do any damage. I’ve seen what Jake can do when he loses it. And someone like Jake cannot be pummelling guys in clubs.
Especially journalists.
No longer wanting to be party to the scene I’ve caused, I turn, and putting my head down, I start to move quickly, weaving through the crowd, heading for the exit.
Jake catches up with me near the door.
Grabbing my arm, he yanks me back, turning me to him. “Where are you going?” He sounds out of breath and angry.
“Home,” I state harshly. I’m still pissed off with him for flirting with the blonde and for what I had to hear in the bathroom. And also for the scene he caused with Jefferson. I know I was wrong to dance with Jefferson for the reason I did, but he didn’t have to react the way he did—making a show of us.
I try to pull my arm from his hand, but there’s no give.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jake states angrily in my face.
“Me? What the hell is wrong with you? I was only dancing with him, for crying out loud!”
“Dancing?” He lets out a caustic laugh. “It looked like he was getting ready to f*ck you right there and then on the dance floor. And you weren’t exactly pushing him off either.”
“Screw you, Jake! You can bloody talk with your whores scattered left, right, and centre, in my face all night! Then I’m privy to the absolute displeasure of hearing a conversation about how one of your whores sucked you off in your office. Oh yeah, then you f*cked her over your desk!”
He looks confused. It, marred with his anger, makes for a scary-looking Jake.
“I got to hear the full lowdown while I was sitting on the toilet, about your activities pre-me. They didn’t know I was there,” I add for clarification. “But I got to hear how I’m not good enough for you, and how she was going to go to the label tomorrow to offer her services to you.”
“Who?” he asks, voice hard.
“Have there been that many you’ve screwed in your office that you don’t know who it would be?”
“Yes.” His tone is low and cold and absolutely heartbreaking.
“You make me f*cking sick!” I cry, my eyes filling with tears. “What about the blonde? Is she one of your office conquests too? Or did you just screw her at the house?”
He looks confused again.
“The blonde at the bar I saw you flirting with! Have you shagged her too?”
“I wasn’t flirting with her. That’s Dina. She works for me. She manages Vintage.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes!” I shout at him. I’m past caring who hears me. “I want to know if you’ve f*cked her too!”
His eyes darken. “No, I haven’t.”
“Just everyone else in LA, then.”
He takes a step back, leaning against the wall. “You knew how I’d lived my life when we got together, Tru. Don’t act like this is a surprise now.” He rubs his face hard. “Are you ever going to be able to get past this?” he asks. His voice is softer but serious.
My anger wilts.
I wrap my arms around myself. “I don’t know.” I shake my head, looking down. After a beat, I say, “And if I can’t, where does that leave us?”
“Right where we are but having to find some way for you to be able to cope with my past mistakes.”
Moving away from the wall, he steps closer to me. “I’ve never given you any reason to doubt my faithfulness to you.”
“Aside from the girl I found in your bed in Boston.”
Shit.
I shouldn’t have said that. But it’s too late. I know I’ve pushed the wrong button.
His face darkens, taking me back a step.
“Out of the two of us, I think I’m the one with more cause for concern—you didn’t exactly have any trouble jumping straight from Will’s bed into mine. So who’s to say you won’t do the exact same thing to me?”
I feel like he’s just slapped me. Hard. Repeatedly. Over and over.
My face burns. My eyes sting. I can’t stop the tears leaking from them.
Without another word or look, I make for the exit.
“I’m sorry.” He takes hold of me from behind. Wrapping his arms tightly around me, his chest presses up against my back, and his lips are against my ear. I freeze in his hold.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.” He blows out a breath, and I feel it rush over me, momentarily heating my chilled skin. “Just seeing you, dancing with him to that song, of all songs.”
My ears instantly become alert to the song playing in the club coming to finish—Beyoncé’s “Sweet Dreams.” The song Jake and I danced to in the club in Copenhagen. The night that was the start of us.
Did I subconsciously dance to this song on purpose to hurt him?
“I want to go home,” I say quietly. Shame and embarrassment course through me. And in this moment I’m not really sure which home I’m referring to.
His body stiffens. “I’ll take you,” he says, releasing me.