Higher Octave (Heavy Influence #2.5) (3 page)

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.”

***

I lay on my mother’s bed and sunk into her
pillows. The smell wasn’t the same. I used to come into my mom’s
room when I was younger. It would make me feel safe, like
everything would be okay. It wasn’t just hers anymore; it was
Notting’s, too—yet it gave me the same safe, homey feeling as it
did all those years ago.

My mother startled when she noticed me. “Oh
geez, Jake!” she gasped, holding her chest. “I didn’t expect you to
be there. What are you doing? Are you feeling okay?”

Her hand covered my forehead and moved to my
cheeks.

“Am
I okay?” I gave her a worried look.

A wry grin popped to her lips. “Your
temperature is okay.” She pulled the hair from her shoulders into a
ponytail, wrapping it up into a bun, all the while giving me a
long, loving once-over. “I’m happy you’re here. I pray every day
you’ll have another day on this Earth.”

My nose burned instantly, and I swallowed
the little lump in my throat. Instead of my usual negative outburst
or condescending remark, I accepted her love. “I know.”

I nodded and bent to sit
up.
Ouch.
My balls
were getting squished. I pulled at the waist of the black board
shorts I wore, tearing open the Velcro fly closure, loosening the
snug fit. I’d gained a few healthy pounds, more muscle from working
out. I probably should stop trying to fit into my high school
clothes. I hadn’t worn a pair of board shorts in more years than I
could count, and I hadn’t stepped in sand in probably just as
long.

“I love you, Mom.”

She gave me a soft, crinkly-eyed smile. My
beautiful mother was getting older. She’d looked younger than her
years for more years than I could count, but finally, the years
were knocking. I couldn’t help but feel deep guilt for being a pain
in the ass. No doubt her worry over me had helped carve the lines
on her face.

“I love you, too,” she said, and crawled
underneath the covers next to me.

“I’m sorry for everything. I know I’ve said
sorry so many times it doesn’t mean anything anymore.” The words
made me think of all the times I told Aly I was sorry, too.

She patted my arm. “I know you’re sorry.
Let’s not dwell. It’s taken me a long time to let go of the past,
and I just want to keep looking forward.”

Me too.
“Does Notting always come home late?”

“Not usually, no.”

I tucked my arms behind my head. “Mom.”

“Yes.”

“Did Notting ever tell you that we’ve
talked?”

“Of course, you know that.” She rolled over
onto her side to face me. “But he never shared, in depth, what was
said. Just that you two bonded. It was actually a contention
between us for a long time, him keeping your confidence.”

I inhaled deeply. My heart began to thump
rapidly, and I cleared my throat. “Mom. Did you ever hear that Dad
cheated on you?”

Hearing her exhale heavily,
I turned my head to see her wounded eyes staring back at me. She
bit down on her bottom lip and said, “I’ll assume
you
did, or you wouldn’t
be asking.”

“Did you believe it? Or did you know?”

She tipped back onto her back and bent her
knees up. “I knew.”

“And you just let him get away with it? How
long did you know?”

She pushed herself up and gathered the
pillows against the padded cream-colored headboard, thinking.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.
It was a long time ago, and you’ve moved on, finally.” I reached
over, rubbing her arm. “I’m happy for you and Notting, no matter
what the story is.”

Her eyes pooled with tears, and she wiped
them away with a swipe of her hands. Her words came out slowly as
she pulled her knees to her chest. “I think because of what you’re
going through with Alyssa, you understand the complexity of what
some people go through when being in love. Not everyone has a hard
time. They meet someone and it’s just that one person. There’s no
fight from another, no third party, or love triangle. I loved
Michael very much, we had a great life together, but in the end I’m
not really sure why I chose him. I hate to say it was a
mistake.”

But it was a mistake. I
was Notting’s son, not Michael’s
, I wanted
to say. I was riveted by her words. It was the most open she’d been
about her life before me, and I wanted to know more—her
side.

To my surprise, she remained open, and spoke
more. “Are these the things Notting shared with you? Did he tell
you about Michael?” she asked cautiously.

“No. Did he know?” I asked pointedly,
thinking maybe he did know and that’s why he stuck around, waiting
for her to find out on her own. But then my dad was killed in a car
accident, and I thought she’d never find out. I’d kept that
agonizing secret, that ate away at me, for nothing.