Cake: A Love Story

by J. Bengtsson

  “Wake up. Wake up,” I sang out. “Everybody wake up.”

  “Oh God,” Jake groaned. “You have terrible pitch.”

  I laughed. “Get up. We are going sightseeing.”

  Jake rubbed his eyes. “We are?”

  As it turned out, taking Jake on an outing wasn’t as easy as hopping in a car. Advanced preparation was a must. When I told him where I wanted to go, Jake called his tour manager and told him to make it happen. I could only imagine the look of annoyance on Sean’s face when he heard that. I told Jake that it wasn’t a big deal and that we didn’t have to go but he insisted that he, too, wanted to see Aston Hall.

  Two hours later, the museum director was leading us on a private tour through Ashton Hall. The Hall was built in the early 1600’s and used to be a private home until it was turned into a public park and museum in the 1800’s. The director carefully avoided the tourists as she guided us through the mansion, even taking us to rooms that were off limit to the public. I wondered if Jake always got this kind of special treatment. Not that I was complaining. I was directly benefitting from his celebrity status. No driving. No waiting. No being herded around like cattle. Hell yeah!

  After touring the mansion, Jake and I strolled through the lush gardens alone. It was a cool day so he was wearing a baseball cap and a hoodie pulled up over it. No one gave him a second look. We walked the gravel paths and marveled at all the colors. Together, we tried to determine what flowers we were looking at. Jake was no help at all. I teased him relentlessly and he seemed to love it. He was so relaxed and acted like he had nothing better to do than hang out with me all day even though the reality was, in seven hours he would be performing in front of thousands of screaming fans.

  Much to Sean’s relief we made it back on time. Jake had a number of things he needed to do so I retreated back to the bus. Lassen was in the living room when I came in. He immediately got up to leave.

  “You don’t have to leave on my account,” I said.

  “I always give Jake his privacy when he’s on the bus.”

  “Jake’s not here.”

  “I was on my way out anyway,” he said then quickly exited.

  I had to admit, I was glad he left. I still didn’t know the man and was a bit uncomfortable around him. Jake trusted him but that didn’t mean I automatically did. I had to get used to having another person in the bus with us. I mean geez; Jake and I were having sex only a few feet from where Lassen slept. It was a little weird if you asked me.

  After the concert, we hung out in the green room for a while and Jake introduced me to the roadies. Nearly every one of them was long- haired or tattooed or both. Pretty much every other word out of their mouths was the f-word and they knew how to pound down the liquor. They were kind of like a rolling band of rock n’ roll carneys. Most, maybe even all of them, were older than Jake. Some even looked to be in their fifties and sixties. They all had rough exteriors but most of them were really nice guys. And they loved me! Who knew that my particular brand of crude humor would play so well to the roadie crowd?

  Jake hung back and let me take the lead. He seemed to be enjoying himself but he definitely didn’t act the same way with these guys as he did with his brothers. I also noticed that the roadies seemed a little reserved with him. Like when one guy made an offensive joke toward me, he stopped himself mid-laugh and looked over nervously at Jake. I wasn’t sure what their relationship was like with him but it was clear that Jake was in charge and they looked to him for direction. When Jake laughed at the joke, everyone else seemed to almost exhale in relief.

  I also was introduced to the band members and the two backup singers, Carmen and Sasha. They were older, in their thirties or forties maybe. They seemed very interested in me, asking all kinds of questions about my life. I got the impression that they were sizing me up, determining if I was worthy of dating Jake. I wasn’t sure if I’d passed their test but after a while they stopped grilling me. Carmen and Sasha weren’t the only women I met. A couple of the band members had girlfriends travelling with them and one of the guitarists had his wife and kids with him, although I didn’t get to meet her because she was putting the kids to bed. I tried to befriend the two girlfriends but they weren’t very friendly. They kept giving me these looks. Then, at one point, I heard one of them whisper, “She’s not even that pretty.”

  That would become a recurring comment that I would learn to accept from Jake’s fans. They were extremely critical of the way I looked. It was like, the minute they saw my hand in Jake’s, it was war. The sideway glances, the nasty comments and even the physical jostling really hurt my feelings those first few weeks. But Jake was always there, protecting and defending me. More importantly he was there to steadfastly justify my significance in his life to any detractors. He tried to ease the sting by telling me that the fans were jealous of me because I was beautiful. But I knew the truth. They were jealous of me because I had him. Over time, I cared less and less what they thought of me. After all, I was the one who got to roll around on the bed with their fantasy every night.

  That first night in Birmingham had been a blast. We spent so long in the green room talking and telling dirty jokes that the arena staff finally had to ask us to clear out so the janitors could clean up.

  After Birmingham, Jake’s travelling crew of nearly 60 people boarded one of 8 busses and 12 semi-trailers and continued on through the UK. The trucks and busses would roll into town and it would take about 6 hours to assemble the stage and props. Local crew was on hand to help with the set up. Everything ran like clockwork. I had never considered what it took to put on a tour the size of Jake’s. It really was a massive production. I was amazed at the sheer numbers of staff that were needed. There were stagehands and sound engineers and lighting guys. There were security personnel and truck drivers and musicians. And Jake, at 23-years-old, was their boss. Although he had Sean to run the day-to-day logistics, Jake still had a hand in almost everything. I watched him handle stressful situations with a maturity that belied his years.

  While we were in the UK, Jake played concerts in Manchester, Sheffield then on to Glasgow and Dublin. In every city, Jake and I would go sightseeing. Although at times, sneaking him out unseen was challenging, we both came to love our little outings. Some days Jake would not be recognized at all and other days he would get mobbed. After one particularly gnarly fan encounter in Ireland, Sean insisted we have security with us. Jake reluctantly agreed. I felt safer knowing that there were people there to back us up if we got into an unmanageable situation. As strong and fearless as Jake was, even he could not handle an unruly mob on his own.

  That first month I was with Jake was a whirlwind of activity. After the UK stops, we drove through the Channel Tunnel into Europe. Jake performed three to five concerts a week and was in a new city or country every three days on average. I saw and experienced things I’d only read about or had seen on TV. Ancient cities, soaring cathedrals, million dollar yachts and movie stars. It was really a dream come true and to witness these things with Jake by my side made me feel so fortunate to be living this incredible life. And Jake, for all his world travels, had really never ventured out to see the cities he was touring in. With me by his side, he seemed eager to experience everything these spectacular cities had to offer. There were times that we would sightsee all day and then Jake would have a concert that night. We would come back to our hotel or into the bus after the shows and be exhausted but exhilarated. Inspired by our experiences, Jake would stay up late into the night writing. Our special moments were becoming songs. I loved watching him work. He was such a creative person. The way he blended words together and crafted the sounds mesmerized me. He was truly an artist.

  Although things could not have been going better in our relationship there was always that nagging worry that he was holding back on me. I had to wonder if it was my own imagination talking. If his horrible past hadn’t been written all over his skin, would I still think he was being guarded? Probably not. />
  The truth was Jake had been more open and affectionate with me than any other guy I’d ever met. Did it really matter, than, that he never spoke of the unimaginable trauma that shaped his young life? Was he not entitled to that one privacy? I sighed. At this point, it didn’t matter what he was hiding from me, because I was completely and hopelessly in love with him. Every time he walked in a room, my heart swelled with love. He took my breath away every single day. And, in the bedroom, I’d become a person I didn’t recognize. I should have been embarrassed by my lack of inhibition but Jake never made me feel self-conscious. The way he looked at me, the way he treated me, always made me feel so desired.

  As far as I could tell, Jake was falling for me too but he hadn’t expressed it in words. And there was no way I was going to tell him how I felt until I knew for sure where his head was. Again, that uncertainty crept into my mind. I wished I could just sit him down and ask him all the burning questions I had. But Jake had a way of avoiding questions he didn’t like. Case in point…his knee. It was clearly getting worse with each performance. The swelling was very visible now and Jake winced in pain when he didn’t think I was looking. I asked him several times what was wrong with his knee but Jake always found a way to distract me…namely by being so damn sexy and flirty that I would forget my head if it wasn’t attached.

  One night while we were travelling on the bus, I was lying with my head in his lap when I asked, “So how exactly did you become a rockstar?”

  “I have no idea,” Jake laughed.

  “I mean, like, how did you get into the music business?”

  “Oh…when I was sixteen I entered a talent competition. I was spotted by a music scout and offered a record contract.”

  “Well that was easy.”

  Jake flashed me a sly grin.

  “What?” I smiled back.

  “It would have been easy if I hadn’t lied about my age and who I was.”

  I looked up at him in surprise then sat up, grinning. “Okay…you have my undivided attention now. I want to hear this story.”

  “Your head was in my lap. I’m pretty sure I already had your full attention,” he said trying to distract me with his sexiness. Nope. Not this time buddy!

  “Just tell me, Jake,” I demanded, but with a smile on my face.

  “It’s a long, boring story. You don’t want to hear it, trust me.”

  This was what I was talking about. Little moments like this when I would ask a seemingly innocent question and it was met with resistance. “Actually I do. And who cares if it’s long? We have an eight hour drive.”

  Jake sighed. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it. After a pause he finally said, “Okay so remember when I was that weird homeschooler?”

  “Yes…but I was kidding about that,” I giggled.

  “No you weren’t,” Jake grinned. “Anyway, I was obsessively practicing for hours and hours every day. I was playing the piano and the guitar. I was writing songs and singing. My mom kept telling me that I had a nice voice and that my songs were good enough to sell…but, you know, she’s my mom. She’s supposed to say shit like that. I wasn’t sure if she was just trying to boost my confidence or if I was actually somewhat good. The only way to find that out was to compare myself to others. So without telling my parents, I sent in a tape and was selected to perform in a talent competition in LA.”

  “Why didn’t you tell your parents?”

  “Because I didn’t want anyone that I knew to be in the audience just in case I really sucked and totally embarrassed myself.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Yeah but, there was a problem with that logic,” Jake continued.

  “What was the problem?”

  “I was sixteen and couldn’t sign up for the competition without parental consent. So I went and got myself a fake ID, making myself eighteen. That way I was a legal adult.”

  “Even though you weren’t.”

  “Right, but that isn’t the point,” Jake smiled. “I also changed my name on the fake driver’s license to Jake Ryan.”

  “Your middle name?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jake Ryan is a way cooler rockstar name then Jake McKallister,” I teased. “Just saying.”

  “I know. It was totally cool. I wish I could have kept it,” Jake laughed.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Well I’m trying to tell you. Stop interrupting,” Jake grinned. “I warned you it was a long boring story.”

  “Sorry. Go on.”

  “Anyway, I performed in the competition and, as it turns out, there was a music scout in the audience. He came up to me after the show and asked me to come to the studio to sing that same song for his boss. I few days later I went to the studio and performed and was offered a contract. And I signed it as eighteen-year-old Jake Ryan.”

  “Isn’t that a federal offense?” I joked.

  “I don’t know, probably,” Jake shrugged.

  “And your parents didn’t know?”

  “No. They had no idea.”

  “Wait, how were you getting to LA by yourself?”

  “I drove. I was sixteen. I had a driver’s license. The studio was only a 45 minute drive from my house.”

  “Oh okay.”

  “So anyway…Jesus Christ you interrupt a lot,” Jake teased.

  “I know. I’ll try to shut up,” I grinned.

  “Thank you. So anyway,” he exaggerated the ‘anyway’, “I guess the music label does a routine background check on all their artists. They took my fingerprints. I didn’t think I was in the system but apparently I was, so about three weeks later, while I was in the studio laying my first tracks, the results came through. Not only did they find out I was not 18 but they also figured out who I really was.”

  My eyes grew large with surprise. Okay this story was getting good. “What happened? Were they mad?”

  “Furious! The producer and the studio lawyer drove me back to my house. They informed my parents what I’d done and told them to be prepared for a lawsuit.”

  “How did your parents react?”

  “Obviously they weren’t real happy with me,” Jake shrugged.

  “I bet. So what happened? Did you get sued?”

  Jake gave me a look like I was interrupting again but then he grinned.

  “Sorry. You know I can’t keep my mouth shut,” I laughed.

  “I know. You just can’t help yourself.”

  “Seriously. I can’t,” I giggled.

  “Okay, so, we didn’t hear from the studio for about two weeks and we thought maybe they forgot about suing me but then we were called in to the record company and met with the head honcho…the CEO of the record company. He said he’d listened to a couple of my tracks and had been impressed. He then pulls out a new contract all ready for my parents to sign.”

  “Well that was good, right?”

  “No because the asshole didn’t care if I could sing. Offering me that contract had nothing to do with my talent, or lack thereof. He was just smart enough to realize that he could make money off of who I was. Basically his intentions were to exploit my past in order to sell albums. I saw right through him and flat out fucking refused to take his offer. But a couple weeks later we got a big envelope in the mail. All that was written on the cover letter was ‘choose.’ One set of papers was a declaration of intention to sue and the other was the record contract.”

  “No way!” I said shaking my head in disbelief. “You were blackmailed, Jake.”

  “Oh trust me, we knew that. But my options were limited. I either signed with them as Jake McKallister or I went to court as Jake McKallister. Either way I was going to be paraded through the media again. In the end I chose what I thought was the lesser of two evils,” Jake said shaking his head.

  “What you thought?”

  “Yeah, those people made my life miserable.”

  “So…I mean, you were basically forced into this life.”

  Jake nodded. I couldn’t
read his expression but he seemed subdued.

  “You’re probably the biggest rockstar in the world and you never even wanted to be one?”

  Jake stared at me, and then shrugged, “No, I wanted to be one. That was, like, my dream when I was little but I just didn’t want it the way it was being offered to me. I’d finally faded out of the public eye so the last thing I wanted was to be stared at again like some circus freak.”

  I nodded. “But you had no choice?”

  “No. I mean I did it to myself by lying and then signing that contract in the first place. But I was just a dumb kid. They took advantage of that.”

  “That is really terrible Jake. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  Jake glowered at me a second and then said, with some edge in his voice, “I didn’t tell you that so you’d feel sorry for me Casey.”

  “And I wasn’t feeling sorry for you Jake,” I responded with the same edge. “I was pissed that some asshole CEO blackmailed you into doing something you didn’t want to do. There is a difference.”

  Jake stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment then his shoulders drooped and he said, “I just really don’t like pity.”

  “And I’ve never pitied you,” I said, trying to control my annoyance. “It pisses me off that you’d even think that. You see how I look at you so don’t insult me.”

  Jake raised his eyebrows, surprised at my burst of anger.

  “Asshole,” I couldn’t help but add.

  A smile spread slowly across Jake’s face.

  “I swear to God, Jake, if you laugh at me, I’ll hitchhike home.”

  “To America?” He grinned.

  I gave him a dirty look but I could feel the anger melt away. Jake’s smile just slayed me.

  “I’m sorry Casey. I was an asshole. You were right. You’re always right.”

  “And it would be wise for you to remember that.”

  He smiled. I smiled back.

  “You’re a jerk sometimes,” I stated.

  “I know.”

  He grabbed me and pulled me into his arms and attacked my neck in kisses.