Jake Me

by Sabrina Stark

  "Jake?" I hesitated. "Actually, we're not together. I did tell you that, right?"

  Of course, I knew the answer to my own question. I had told him. Repeatedly. But somehow, this approach seemed more polite than telling him he was full of crap.

  Vince's face tightened. "Your 'friend' then."

  "I don't mean to quibble," I said, "but actually, we're not quite friends anymore either."

  In fact, I hadn't even talked to Jake since that awful day at the hotel. I hadn't called him, and he sure as heck hadn't called me. Then again, calling me wasn't exactly easy these days, since I had a new phone number, courtesy of my new employer.

  "You were supposed to solve this," Vince said.

  I shook my head. "Solve what?"

  With a sound of irritation, he reached over to my computer and brought up an internet browser. After a few keystrokes, I saw a still video image that made my heart clench. It was Jake in a blood-spattered white shirt.

  "Oh my God," I said. "Is that his blood?"

  When Vince said nothing, I turned to look at him. He was staring at me like I'd just gone off the deep end.

  "No," he said through clenched teeth, "that would be the blood of our newest client, Doc Rochester."

  I shook my head. "The boxer?"

  "No," Vince said, "the heart surgeon."

  "Huh?"

  "Of course it's the boxer." He pointed toward the screen. "Do you know how much that stunt is gonna cost me?"

  I winced. "How much?"

  "Let's put it this way," Vince said. "More than the guy's worth."

  "Who?" I asked. "Doc?"

  "No." Vince glowered at me. "Jake. Remember him? The guy who thinks it's hilarious to start fights with my clients?"

  "I'm not sure he thinks it's hilarious," I said. "Funny maybe. But not hilarious funny. I mean, I've never seen him laugh about it or anything."

  "Yeah, whatever." Vince glanced again toward the computer screen. "You wanna watch it? Go ahead. Hit play."

  Actually, I didn't want to watch it. I felt myself swallow. "Sure. If you think I should?"

  "What I think," Vince said, "is that you need to figure out where your loyalties lie."

  Boss or not, something about this little visit was setting my teeth on edge. "Wait a minute." I flicked my head toward my computer screen, where the image of Jake remained. "Do you think I had something to do with that?"

  "Yes," he said. "I do."

  I studied Vince's face. Was he serious? I couldn’t tell. "I guess I'm not following," I said.

  "Alright. You want the truth? Ever since I hired you, he's been coming at us harder and faster. I didn't want to say anything before, but this is the third hit this week. It's like the guy has lost his damn mind."

  I didn't know all the details about how Jake operated, but I did know one thing. He never hit first. Probably, it was the only reason he wasn't rotting in jail somewhere. Or maybe, knowing Jake, he wasn't the sucker-punch type. Either way, it was pretty obvious that there was a lot more to this story.

  "What do you mean?" I asked. "He's not attacking those guys, is he?"

  "Does it matter?" Vince said. "In the end, they get asses handed to them just the same."

  "But Jake isn't sucker-punching them or anything." I hesitated. "Is he?"

  Vince gave me an annoyed look. "Sucker punching?"

  "You know, hitting them first, like when they're not looking?"

  "No," Vince said. "He's not 'sucker punching' them. But he is pushing their buttons."

  "Yeah," I admitted, "he's kind of good at that."

  Vince crossed his arms. "You wanna know why Doc made me his new agent?"

  "Why?" I asked.

  "Because I said I could rebuild his image, get him better endorsement deals, a bigger slice of the pie." Vince glared at the computer screen. "Not so easy now, isn't it?"

  "Because he's fighting in public?"

  "No," Vince said. "Because he just got his clock cleaned by some douche bag."

  Without thinking, I slid my gaze to my computer screen, where the frozen video image of Jake remained. His hair was damp, and his shirt was bloody. But his face – that face I loved so well in spite of everything – it was the same as always, all angles and shadows of masculine perfection. And his body? Well, it was the same work of art that I recalled in my dreams.

  Douche bag? Hardly.

  He looked so good that I wanted to die.

  Chapter 37

  That night, Steve and Anthony showed up at my new apartment with pizza. It wasn't exactly a surprise. They'd been showing up nearly every night – sometimes with pizza, sometimes to ask me what was for dinner.

  The sad thing was, I never felt like cooking, whether for me, or for my brothers. So, in the short week that I had been living in my new place, I'd become an expert on ordering takeout. But it wasn't the food or my lackluster company that kept my brothers coming back. It was the other thing.

  Steve elbowed his way through my apartment door and tossed the pizza boxes onto my kitchen counter. "I've gotta shower," he said, turning to Anthony. "You'd better save me some pepperoni. Or else."

  As Steve, with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, headed down the short hall that led to my bathroom, Anthony called after him. "Yeah? Well, you'd better save me some hot water." His tone grew mocking. "Or else."

  Standing at my kitchen counter, Anthony opened the top pizza box and pulled out a slice. He shoved half of it into his mouth and asked, "How's it going?"

  "Good," I said.

  He motioned to the pizza. "Then why aren't you eating?"

  "I will," I said. "Probably."

  "Yeah, sure you will. You see the latest video?"

  Like I wanted to be reminded. "Of Jake and Doc Rochester?" I shook my head. "Nah, I mean, I heard about it and all, but I didn't actually watch it."

  Part of me wanted to watch it. But the other part of me wanted to ignore the whole thing entirely. With Jake, all of these contradictions were making me crazy. I hated to watch him fight. And I loved to watch him fight. I heard myself sigh. Just like I loved and hated the guy himself.

  I was like Gollum, sitting on a barren rock, calling Jake my Precious.

  "Nah, not that fight," Anthony said. "I'm talking about the one at the hotel. Where you worked." Anthony gave a small chuckle. "Well, for like half a night anyway."

  At the mere mention of that hotel, I was glad I hadn't eaten anything. Still, I couldn’t help but ask, "Which video do you mean?"

  "The one with you," he said. "In the lobby with all those drunks. The thing was a riot."

  "What are you saying?" I asked. "That Jake posted a video of what happened with Rango?"

  "Nah. I mean, yeah, that was the video, alright. But Jake wasn't the one who posted it. It was some new guy. Get this." Anthony grinned. "He goes by the name of Raging Rupert."

  "Rupert?" I said. "My old boss?"

  "I dunno," Anthony said. "Never met the guy. But the way it looks, the video was pulled from hotel security footage. The thing's making the rounds. You seriously haven't seen it?"

  "No," I said. "Why?"

  "Because you're like the star," Anthony said. "It's got everyone talking."

  "Who's everyone?" I asked.

  "You know, like people on-line. They're all like 'Who's that chick he's so into?'"

  I shook my head. "What?"

  "Yeah," Anthony said. "It was like the second video that you've been in, so people are thinking you two are an item."

  "Except," I pointed out, "it wasn't Jake's video. And technically, there wasn't really much of a fight."

  "Like that matters. Besides, there's that big makeout scene." Anthony made a face. "Like I wanted to see that."

  I gave him a look. "Then maybe you shouldn’t have watched."

  "Yeah. Whatever," he said. "But now, people are like, 'Who's that girl?'"

  "Oh right," I said, "I've seen his videos, remember? There's always a ton of girls around."

  "Yeah, but the
thing with you," Anthony said, "is people are saying there's more to it." His voice grew higher, as if imitating a female fan. "See the way he looks at her? You can tell he's totally in love."

  My heart clenched. "Except it wasn't like that. Was it?"

  Anthony shrugged. "Hell if I know, since you never told us what happened."

  It was true. I hadn't. Somehow, I just couldn't bring myself to admit that I'd been such a fool, or that Jake had been the man-slut that everyone expected him to be. Some things were just too sordid to share, especially with my younger brothers. I would never hear the end of it.

  I swallowed the heartache and said, "Nothing happened. Not really."

  "Like I believe that," Anthony said. "Anyway, Jake stopped by again."

  "Huh?" My breath caught. "Where?"

  "The job-trailer. Where else?"

  I shook my head as the other half of his statement caught up with me. "And what do you mean 'again'?"

  "Well, there was that first time, the day you took off—"

  "Wait a minute," I said. "You never told me that."

  "I know," he said. "I figured Steve did."

  "Why would you figure that?"

  "Because he came to see you that night."

  I was having a hard time following. "The night I moved?"

  That whole day had been absolutely crazy. I mentally checked off everything I had done within that short timeframe. I had met with Vince, signed the employment paperwork, cashed my signing bonus, and took a week-to-week lease on my new place, which happily came furnished. And then, I'd spent the rest of that night crying myself to sleep.

  All in all, it had been a pretty full day.

  Pushing those painful memories out of my mind, I gave Anthony a perplexed look. "Steve never came over. Or at least, not while I was home."

  "Well, there you go," Anthony said.

  There I go? That hardly seemed a sufficient explanation. "When Jake stopped by," I said, "what did he want?"

  "The first time or the second time?" Anthony asked.

  "Both."

  "Well, the first time, I thought he was gonna tear the place apart looking for you. He was all like 'Where the hell is she?'"

  "What'd you tell him?" I asked.

  "Told him you got a new job, working for that Vince guy."

  "Oh crap," I breathed. "How'd that go over?"

  Anthony reached for another slice of pizza. "Well, there was a lot of swearing."

  "At you guys?" I asked.

  "Eh, hard to tell, "Anthony said. "But he looked really ticked off. And then he was all like, 'Where's she staying?' And we're all like, 'None of your business, dude.'"

  Through the heartache, I almost laughed. "You really said that?"

  "Hell yeah, we said that. You said you didn't want to be found."

  It was true. I'd been adamant about that. But somehow, it almost surprised me that my brothers had actually listened for once.

  "So anyway," Anthony continued, "he rips through the place, which takes like five seconds as small as it is, and he leaves all pissed off."

  "And what about today?" I asked. "You said he stopped by again?"

  "Yeah, it was just more of the same." Anthony glanced toward the fridge. "Got any beer?"

  "No," I said. "Sorry."

  "Bummer." Anthony reached into his pocket. "Anyway, he asked us to give you something."

  "What?" I asked.

  From his pocket, he pulled out a cell phone. "This."

  "A phone?" I took it from Anthony's outstretched hand. "Why?"

  "That's what I asked him."

  "What'd he say?"

  "He said, 'Just give it to her.' And Steve's like, 'Fine, but it'll cost ya.'"

  "Cost him what?" I asked.

  Anthony pointed to the pizza boxes. "Dinner."

  "Oh my God. Seriously? You made him buy you pizza?"

  "Not just for us," Anthony said. "For you too. And besides, he just gave us the cash. It's not we dragged him to the pizza joint or anything."

  Again, I glanced down at the phone. It was similar to my last model, and the way it looked, it already had service. I checked the contacts. I saw only one name – Jake, listed as my top favorite, my only favorite in fact.

  Anthony stood to peer over my shoulder. "You gonna call him?"

  Was I? Honestly, I didn't know.

  I was still debating it when my other cell phone rang. Since the phone number was practically brand new, my list of potential callers was embarrassingly short. I pulled out the phone and glanced at the display. It was my sister. Clutching the phone, I ducked into the apartment's only bedroom and answered with a rushed, "Hello."

  "Oh my God," she said, "You actually answered."

  She had a point. It wasn't that I'd been avoiding her, exactly, but she was engaged to Jake's brother, and I was drowning in too many complications already.

  "Sorry," I told her, "it's just been really crazy lately."

  "Yeah. I heard. But you're away from Jake, right?"

  Like she didn't know. My brothers could be surprisingly blabby when it came to such things.

  "I guess," I muttered.

  "Good. Because you saw what he did, right?"

  I hesitated. Jake did so many crazy things that I practically needed a catalog to keep up. "You're gonna have to be more specific than that," I told her.

  "It's this huge fight," she said. "I think it's at a biker bar. I'm watching the video right now. You want the link?"

  "No," I blurted out. "Definitely not."

  "Why not?" she asked.

  The answer was too complicated for words. Seeing Jake in any form was a temptation nearly impossible to resist. But now, after everything that had happened, it was like grinding salt into a giant, festering wound, especially if Jake was doing something dangerous.

  And one thing about Jake, he was always doing some dangerous.

  I dodged Selena's question with some lame excuse about running low on data.

  "Oh," she said. "So you want me to tell you about it? Because seriously, that guy's nuts. You're so lucky you're away from him."

  Before I could stop myself, I said, "I don't feel lucky."

  She quiet a long moment and then said, "Oh crap."

  "What?"

  "You're in love with him."

  "I am not." I hesitated. "Okay, well maybe I am, but –"

  "Oh no," she groaned.

  "Hey," I said, suddenly feeling the urge to defend him. "He's not so bad as everyone thinks. Steve and Anthony like him."

  "Yeah," she said. "They also like the Three Stooges and Kung fu."

  Well, there was that. But that was beside the point.

  "You're one to talk," I told her. "You're marrying his brother."

  "Yeah, but they're nothing alike."

  "Oh come on," I said, "they're practically twins."

  "I'm not talking about how they look. I'm talking about how they act."

  "Either way," I said, "I've got to ask you something."

  "What?"

  "What if I ended up with him?"

  "Jake? You wouldn't."

  "But what if I did?" I persisted.

  She was quiet a long moment. "Under this scenario, is he good to you? Or bad to you?"

  That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? When Jake was good to me, life was like a big happy dream. When he was bad to me, it like was walking nightmare. The only thing was, I still wasn't totally sure he'd been bad to me at all.

  For simplicity's sake, I said, "Good to me. Definitely."

  "If that were really true," she said, "I'd be happy for you. A little scared. But happy."

  I didn't bother to point out the obvious. Her fiancé was pretty scary himself. Funny, she never saw it that way. Maybe my sister and I were more alike than I realized.

  Or maybe I was grasping at straws. Because I couldn’t deny it. I missed Jake like crazy. And against all my better judgment, I wanted like hell to make that call.

  Chapter 38

 
; "I heard you're in trouble," Bianca said.

  Sitting at my desk, I looked up and spotted her, standing in the doorway to my office. I gave her an irritated look. "What are you talking about?"

  It was the morning after I'd gotten the mysterious cell phone from Jake, and I still hadn't used it. Honestly, I was afraid to. Jake had always been my dream guy, and in spite of everything with Bath Girl, I still loved him – too much for my own good, it seemed. So I had settled on a simple strategy – avoidance.

  Cowardly, but effective.

  Now, if only I could stop thinking about him.

  Bianca walked into my office without an invitation and sank into my visitor's chair. She crossed her legs and leaned forward to say in a hushed voice, "Yeah, big trouble."

  It wasn't even eight o'clock in the morning yet. What was she doing here, anyway? As for me, I'd come in early for two reasons – to get caught up on work, and more to the point, because I hadn't slept a wink last night.

  Even if she didn't know it, Bianca was playing with fire.

  "Funny," I said, "you're in big trouble, too."

  Her brow wrinkled. "Why?"

  I motioned her closer and said in the same hushed tone that she'd used on me, "Because I haven't had coffee yet."

  She drew back. "Are you threatening me?"

  Was I? Probably not. But in this case, I figured silence was golden.

  "Fine," she said, "I thought I was doing you a favor, but oh well, I guess you can find out on your own."

  "Good," I said. "It'll give me something to look forward to."

  I wasn't even worried, not about that, anyway. Bianca had this nasty talent for implying things that weren't quite true. I wasn't going to let her get under my skin, especially since we were supposedly on the same team now.

  She gave me a smirk. "Want to know what I'm looking forward to?"

  "Not particularly."

  "What I’m looking forward to," she said as if I hadn't spoken," is my lunch date on Friday." She ran a hand through her long, dark hair. "I don't want to give too much away, but let's just say his initials are J.B."

  I caught my breath. J.B.? As in Jake Bishop? In spite of my best intentions, my insides turned to ice. Still, somehow, I made myself smile and say, "Goodie for you."

  "And just so we're clear," she said, "his last name's Bishop."

  Right. As if I were too stupid to figure that out on my own.