Page 74 of Fighting Jacob

Jacob

“What the hell are you doing in Los Angeles, Jacob?” Cormack dumps a heap of paperwork onto a makeshift desk in the studio Rise Up has been working out of the past six months to welcome me with a handshake.

While he does that, I try to think of a legitimate reason as to why I’ve arrived in LA in the middle of the day. “Just visiting.”

What? I’ve never been any good at thinking on the spot.

“Where is everyone?” The recording booth is noticeably empty, considering Rise Up is mere seconds from greatness.

Cormack slaps my back, his excitement uncontained. “I gave the boys the day off before their tour starts. Last I heard, Slater, Marcus, and Nick were at the hotel. I haven’t heard from Noah today. Would you like a ride to their hotel? I’m about to head that way.”

“Sure, that’ll be great.” After gathering my bag off the floor, I follow Cormack to a shiny black BMW convertible. It’s a nifty ride that leaves no doubt to his wealth. I don’t think this make is even on the market yet.

Noticing my prolonged gawk, Cormack chuckles under his breath. “Business is good.”

“Clearly.”

When he slides into the driver seat, I follow suit. I’m halfway through latching my belt when he asks, “Is everything alright? You seem a bit quiet.”

I jerk up my chin. “Yeah, I’m good. Just trying to work out how I’ll untangle myself from this sardine tin once we arrive at the hotel.”

Cormack laughs, but his suspicion remains high. I haven’t felt myself since I left Lola’s apartment two days ago. Even Dad noticed a change in my personality. He simply suggested: “Perhaps it’s time to let her go.”

It hurt to hear, but I’m beginning to wonder if he’s right. I don’t want to be Lola’s friend; I want to be her everything, but that's not something she's willing to give me. I know she cares about me, and I understand her last relationship has made her apprehensive about trusting again, but we can't keep running on the same hamster wheel we've been spinning the past two years. I want her to be my girl and only my girl, but if she’s not willing to give that to me, maybe I need to move on?

This weekend apart will do us more good than harm. We don’t spend every waking moment together like other couples do, but for the past month, we’ve seen each other daily. But space is good. Sometimes space helps...unless you’re being smacked with a bad bout of jealousy.

I trust Lola. From what I've heard the past year, I'm reasonably sure that even during our six months' separation, she wasn't sleeping around, but all it takes is for one seed of doubt to be planted, and before you know it, you're infested with weeds of distrust. That's what happened two days ago. I let jealousy get the better of me.

Lola's tattoo is a symbol of her strength. She got it after Callum assaulted her. It represents her metamorphosis, the re-growing of the wings Callum tried to pluck. I love her tattoo because it shows a side of her no one else but me sees. She's perfect yet fragile. Flynn saw that side of her, and in all honesty, I fuckin' hate it.

Don’t misconstrue, I also hate the way people misinterpret Lola’s warrior attitude as nothing but spitfire sassiness. But I don’t need any competition. I’m already facing an uphill battle. I don’t need more issues.

My eyes float up from my phone when Cormack pulls into the entrance of an impressively large hotel. “If you need anything, let me know.”

I thank the concierge for taking my bag with a head bob before turning to Cormack. “Thanks. See you around?”

Nodding, he chuckles at my departure from his car. It’s as awkward as a woman squeezing into Spandex for a blind date. Legs and arms are going in every direction. As much as it’d be nice to have a sports car, I’ll never own one. They're too uncomfortable for guys my size.

Once Cormack’s taillights blur into a sea of traffic, I enter the hotel Rise Up is slumming at. Obviously, their success is rolling in. This place is way too fancy for my polo shirt, cargo shorts, and Vans shoes combination. I feel underdressed just entering their lobby.

I don’t know why when the first person I spot is Slater. He’s both shirtless and shoeless. “Jakeyboy, how the fuck are you?” He throws his arms around my shoulders before tugging me into his tattooed chest. “I would’ve picked you up from the airport, but Emily didn’t know what time you were landing.”

“It’s all good. I found my way.”

As I shadow Slater to the floor the band is occupying—yes, you heard me right, they have the entire story of a hotel to themselves—I take in the opulent surroundings. This hotel is massive. The chandeliers hanging from the raked ceilings are the size of my living room back home, and all the finishes are done in gold. With how many snooty people are in one spot, I wouldn't be surprised to discover the gold is real. I feel like I stepped into a real-life palace.

When we enter their apartment-sized hotel room, Marcus greets me with a handshake, and Nick jerks up his chin in silent greeting.

“Where’s Noah?” His bandmates are great guys, but even when they’re not on stage, the absence of their lead singer is highly noticeable.

“Being a soft cock.” Slater dumps my bag on one of three white leather sofas before moving to a full-size bar in the corner of the room. “He went to visit Emily. Left us a note.”

Marcus hands me the note Slater is referring to.

Morning, Fuckers,

Gone to visit my girl.

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