4
-Angel
There's a distinct clicking sound. It's distracting. Then, the sweet tang of cinnamon invades my nostrils. Once I realize the source is my lawyer, Mister Brandon crunching on a breath mint, I can focus again.
Staring blankly at the walls in the interview room-feeling the restraints on my wrists, as my minds' eye holds that moment in the smoky corridor-I see myself watching Jake walk away. "Analog Controller used to post flyers all over town. I would take the ones with pictures on them and spend hours staring at Jacob Haddon. I made a scrap book and filled it with pages of flyers and some Polaroids I took at their shows." It made me feel closer to him.
Here, from this prison where they tell me what to eat, when to sleep and when to wake-up, where to walk and for how long, when to shower and pee, it's as if all of my life has been no more than stray seconds jumbled together and ripped apart. It seems random and pointless. But when I look back and put some pieces together, they add up to one specific night-almost two years after that first meeting in Joes Pizza.
The night I first slept with Jake.
+++
I had been to nearly all of their shows and we always talked after, but still only at shows. He was older and so obviously too hot for me, I wouldn't let myself take my desire past the fantasy land inside my head.
Analog Controller was playing at a popular club called The Mystic Muse. It was practically on the other side of the state and I had to get creative to make my way there. I talked Avery into taking her moms car and the two of us ducked out. That night at The Mystic Muse, with some encouragement from my lone friend, I would gather my nerve and act on the lust I felt for Jake.
Jake had those soft hands and I wanted him to use them on me. I guess that's the calling card of a guy who works mainly with his mind. Soft hands with small, distinct calluses you could only feel when he really touched you. He kept his fingernails a little longer than traditional length, too. They stretched to his fingertips.
Jake had a way about him-an outstanding charm. Very large personality with a quick smile, melodic laugh, and an air that imposed its' will upon me-made me want to submit to his. He made me nervous in the very best way. He made me crave him.
He wrote about everything-good and bad-all of his heart flowed into his music. It was almost as if there was no part of himself that he wouldn't lay bare for a room full of strangers. Jake was jarringly open and I found that comforting.
That night, at The Mystic Muse, I remember that the merch booth opened for the first time. It was before the guys went on and Avery and me raided the coffers of our savings and splurged. They finally had a merch booth! We'd bought their stickers, t-shirts, and wrist bands, and were making our way to the car. The parking lot was dark and smelled of sour beer.
A large hand grabbed my shoulder and suddenly spun me. My heart leapt inside my chest. Avery shrieked. And then I saw his face. Smiling. Devilish.
"Jake! You scared me."
"Angel. I'm glad you made it." He smirked, "We gotta talk." The fingers of his hand skimmed along my forearm, those scratchy nails leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Someone called to Jake from the club entrance. When he turned to see who it was, I stole a questioning glance at Avery. Her face mirrored mine. I didn't know what to make of that copied look. It was as if she was answering my question with a question.
"What do I do?" I asked, and she replied with, "What do you want to do?"
I looked back at Jake, deciding to follow my heart. "Where?"
"You know the long hallway at stage right? Follow that until you pass the bathrooms. Then it's the third door on your right. I gotta do something, but I'll see you there?"
"Sure," I nodded.
Jake turned and I became a puppy dog, trotting after him, leaving Avery gaping in the parking lot with her arms full of band paraphernalia. Jake chuckled when he saw me following and slowed down.
Once we were inside, he took a cautious look around and asked me to wait a few minutes before heading into the back of the club. I was never good at waiting, so I counted to eight-hundred and fifty-figuring that took about five minutes-before making made my way towards the stage and slipping into the hall behind it. I followed the dimly lit corridor until I came to the third door on my right, just like I'd been instructed.
Releasing a deep breath, I swung the door open. It was dark inside. I was about to turn around, sure I had the wrong place, when a light flicked on. Then, Jake was peering at me from across the room, in front of another doorway. Beside him was a large couch. It looked just like the long black one inside the bars VIP section, only more worn looking. The cushions were covered with a plaid blanket.
All my anxious enthusiasm doubled.
"What is this . . ." I was going to finish with 'room,' but the tremors in my voice collapsed the walls of my throat.
He'd said he wanted to talk, but the way he looked at me and the loaded air made me want to sweat, scream, and simultaneously jump for joy.
Jake either didn't notice my nerves or didn't care as he made his way towards me. I watched his hands slide up to his temples and sweep his brown, chin length hair behind each ear. His eyes were dark and his face held an air of something I didn't recognize. His tee shirt was plain, all black and untucked. The short sleeves were rolled up, accentuating the definition in his arms. His jeans were dark blue, cuffed at the bottom over biker-style boots.
"This is me," his luscious lips murmured, "asking your permission."
"Permission for what?" I managed to ask, once I tore my eyes away from his mouth.
"I'd like to have my way . . . with you."
Everything inside me clenched. Except my eyes-those popped wide open. And my mouth went desert dry. It was like a line from a movie or something. Did he just say he wanted his way with me?
He was all longs legs, casually swinging until he got close enough to set his hands around my waist. And I swear my heart stopped beating. His hands around my waist! Which, amazingly, felt like a whole new part of my body. Did I have a waist before that moment? I'd seen it and used it to bend and move. Beyond that, all my waist had ever done was sit above my hips. I had no idea so many nerves could exist in one area. All at once, they sprang to life and went crazy-hyperactive nerve endings flaring up around my waist and spreading, quickly turning every inch of my body into a burning furnace. His fingers stoked my desire. But all they were doing was lightly grasping my waist.
"What 'way' would that be?" My voice sounded weird: quiet and rough.
He didn't get to respond because the doorway behind him was suddenly filled with marching bodies. Four guys in oversized jeans and plaid shirts. Another band had just made their entrance.
Jake moved in close, speaking into my ear. "If you're interested in the answer, please, find me after?" His breath felt hot on my neck, his lips briefly brushed my temple. "You come find me, Angel, and I'll show you the way."
I turned about ten different shades as I awkwardly mumbled a pre-show blessing, "Kick their asses," and went back to find Avery waiting at the mouth of the hallway. I slapped my hand against my forehead, feeling like a clown. Kick their asses? Why not, 'have a great show'? Or 'break a leg'?
"You did fine," Avery assured me later. And when I told her what Jake said, we had major giggles over it. She was super happy for me and encouraged me to act on what I was feeling.
"I'll think about it." I whispered.
"A hot-ass rocker . . . Scratch that. The hot-ass lead singer of your favorite band just offered himself to you! He's all you talk about." She knocked on my head, doing her best Biff Tannen impression. "Hello, McFly? What's there to think about?"
The very idea made me nervous. What if he didn't mean it? Or worse: he did mean it and then was disappointed in me after?
All of the angst melted to extreme excitement when Analog Controller took the stage. Jakes' gifts had the audience aglow, screaming with righteous enthusiasm. He was on fire, too, holding th
e steady flame of his eyes on me throughout the show. I watched his mouth smooth over the mic-head as he sang:
If I were smart, I'd run.
You kill for pleasure, torture for fun.
Expectation gives way. You've won.
Just come over here, you look like fun.
I jumped and moshed and sang along to every song, enjoying his attention and the growing need sparked by the words he whispered to me in the back room. I wanted to know his way; the path he'd promised to lead me down. When the set was over, I cheered until my voice cracked and the band disappeared into the bowels of The Mystic Muse.
Avery and I went with the flow of traffic, dispersing to other parts of the club once the stage was empty.
By the time the next band was introduced, most people were crowded up at the front once more. But Jake was in back, sitting at the bar amid a small, lingering crowd.
I was sure approaching a guy was the hardest thing I had ever done, but he made it easier. First with his invitation, then with his freshly showered hair and head-to-toe, dark brown outfit that made his milky skin seem like it had been dipped in caramel. His not-so-baggy jeans gave just a peek of the top of his boxers. His long, thin t-shirt gathered at his waist like he hadn't taken the time to pull it all the way down.
"Keep performing like that, Jake, and the label reps will turn into groupies." I gushed, trying to be funny.
He turned his powerful eyes on me. "I don't pay attention to groupies."
I wasn't sure if he heard my lame joke, but knew that his response was molded by modesty. There were at least half-dozen women in his vicinity after that performance. But he was telling the truth, he didn't exchange anything more than pleasantries with them.
He was leaning against the bar holding his complimentary drink of choice-Jack and Coke. Every guy in the band got free drinks. He had a believable fake ID. We all did, but mine only said I was eighteen.
He eyed me as I gushed, trying to tell him how much I loved what he had created.
"You know what I love?" He interrupted, and there was something in the way he stood and leaned in with his hips, like he was going to tell me something very important and couldn't risk the words getting lost in the surrounding noise.
"What?" I barely breathed, remembering the way he whispered in my ear.
Jake leaned in close, setting his lips at the shell of my ear and speaking low, "I love that you thought about my offer and came to find me." He drew back and gulped down the last of his drink. "How old are you, again?"
Avery was standing behind him, talking with the drummer, Max, and a group of other people. Her eyes popped wide when she heard the question.
I started to answer, "I'm seventeen," but Avery's rapid hand signals flew behind Jakes head, screaming at me, "Say 'eighteen!' you idiot!"
So, I improvised "I'm . . . s-super close to eighteen. Hours away, actually."
Jake set his empty glass on the bar and wrapped both arms around my shoulders. "Really? Well, lucky me. And lucky you, too. Happy Birthday, Beautiful." His voice was syrupy sweet as he took my hand and led me towards the back of the club.
The second we were out of sight, his hands were on me. His smooth palms caressed my jeans, stuffing their fingers into my back pockets. "What'ch you got in there?" Through the layer of denim, he cupped one side of my butt and offered a vicious smile, "Nothing but ass."
No one had ever touched or spoke to me that way before and I'm not ashamed to say that I loved it. It was every fantasy I had turned reality as I pulled him closer. Emboldened by desire, I grazed my nose along the intoxicating scent of his neck. Heaven. A slight edge of clean sweat still lingered there, as if during his post-show shower he'd rinsed very quickly, as if he couldn't wait to get to me, as if he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I pressed him against the wall of the dark hallway, but Jake pushed back, pressing his lips over mine. Pouring desire into me.
This was so much better than the waist touching and the pocket-play. It was . . . blood boiling, liquid fireworks.
His hands moved up from my hips to my waist. They stretched around the circumference before he pulled away and chuckled. "You're so tiny." I followed his gaze down to my waist and was surprised to see that the tips of his thumbs were only a few inches apart. "You're like a little bird. I better be gentle, I don't want to break you."
I had never thought of myself as thin or tiny and I was going to say so, but stopped when Jake gave his lips back to me. I felt movement and then I was pinned between Jakes chest and the wall.
The next time words were exchanged, we were inside the bands old cargo van. It was a beater-big and clunky-covered in graffiti and stickers, with no seats, only a huge open area in the back. Jake spread a blanket over the worn carpet of the van floor and we fell inside, never breaking our hold on one another. He pinned me beneath him, pressed his hips into me, using his knees to push mine apart. The sweet pressure of him did strange things to me. A new kind of friction that made me greedy, made me want every part of me to touch every part of him. My hands seemed to know what to do. I didn't even have to think about taking them from his face to touch his shoulders or sliding them down his taut arms and back.
"Angel." Jake breathed into my mouth, took my breath and gave me his own. "Angel. I want you so bad."
After this confession, before I had a chance to respond, Max opened the backdoor. There was a pile of equipment beside him. It was time to load up. Max looked at Jake, rolled his eyes, and muttered something about getting a room. So, our steamy moment was put on pause. I hid my embarrassment behind my hair as we got out to help.
Once all the equipment and instruments were loaded, all of us, including Avery, smashed inside the old Dodge van, off to Analog Controllers' motel.
The problem then became privacy. The band was sharing one room with two queen size beds.
Andrew claimed one, Max claimed the other. Avery laughed from a chair in the corner. But I could tell she felt sorry for me.
"Take a walk?" Jake asked, nudging my elbow.
We strolled the empty corridors of the motel, passing up ice machines and payphones. An older couple passed us. They were both dripping water, wrapped in towels, and holding hands, talking with one another in a way that said they had been together for a very long time.
"Sorry." Jake murmured once they passed.
"For what?" I stopped walking.
"For not thinking ahead. For not being able to finish what I started." His eyes smoldered. "We could just make out in the van?"
I was standing in front of a glass door. The one the older couple had passed through. Just beyond it was the motels' enclosed pool. I looked through the smoked glass at the empty lounge chairs, the sparkling water, and pressed on the door. It was unlocked. We walked inside and Jake pushed the door closed. His long fingers deftly turned the deadbolt, locking the door from the inside.
He turned back to me, wide-eyed. "Is this okay?"
I felt my body straighten, preening as I nodded. "Definitely."
He took my hand in his and pulled me towards another doorway that was labeled 'employees only.' He took a quick look through the room without stepping in and reached one arm inside. The lights of the swimming area went out.
We kept walking. The poolside was now solely lit by a hallway that led to showers. Jake grabbed a fluffy lounge chair and set it in a dark corner in the back, out of sight.
I stared down at the red and white stripes of the cushion and felt his lips on my neck. All my muscles went limp under his sweet pressure. His arms came around my waist and those nerve endings flared again. A fire exploded within. My hips instinctively pushed against him. I gasped as his fingers knotted into my hair, his nails scraping my scalp as he turned me to face him.
"I don't know if I ever told you, but I think you're very beautiful." His palm rested against my face.
"So are you."
His eyes seemed to search mine before making a groping march down to my mouth.
He tilted my head up to his; set another hot palm over the place where my neck met my shoulder. His thumb grazed my throat. I released a pleasured sigh.
"If I move too fast, you'll tell me, right?" His lips grazed mine as he whispered.
I nodded, aching for his kiss. But I had to wait. He kept his eyes on mine as he laid me down on the red and white striped chaise. Once again, his knees separated mine, making room for his hips as he pressed his weight onto me, picking up where he left off in the van. A glorious shiver ran through me as Jake hovered above me, finally closing the distance between our mouths. His kisses were hypnotic: demanding and sweet, breathing into me, taking pleasure and giving it back. I was dazed. Illuminated, by his glorious blaze, dancing in the fire he kindled.
I heard myself whine with guilt and delight as he lifted my shirt. Guilt, that I had snuck off and left Avery, and delight, because Jake felt so good, and more guilt because I was acting like such a groupie, but I didn't care. I couldn't stop. I could only be thankful that I borrowed Avery's black lacy bra. It was a little too snug, but made my boobs look great. I yanked Jakes shirt off in turn and tossed it aside as his fingers moved to my jeans.
Jake was the one who stopped, but only to investigate the small set of lines over my hip bone. His thumb grazed my side. His brows knit together as he tugged the top of my jeans a little lower to better see the marks I had given myself as an experiment. As I was trying to remember which underwear I was wearing, he backed up onto his knees and I realized what was happening.
Chagrin gathered in my cheeks and I confessed before he asked. "I'm not a cutter. I just tried it a few times."
"What do you mean by tried?"
"Well . . . uh, my friend, she does it. She says it helps her feel better and I wanted to know what she meant, so I did it with her." I kept Avery's name out of it, knowing she'd want me to.
"Create a hurt that she could feel. And take away. To make it heal." Jakes eyes drifted as he spoke rhythmically, as if he were reciting a poem or lyrics. Then his gaze came back to mine with renewed ferocity. "I get it. But you shouldn't do it anymore."
I nodded my agreement, setting my hands on his beautifully bare stomach. He was lean, with subtle but powerful cuts around each muscle group. The thin line of hair below his belly button felt silky under my fingers as Jake leaned into my touch.
"Turn over." He commanded, with dark eyes.
I hesitated a moment, confused. Then, did as he said. Jake grabbed my hips and lifted me up onto my knees. The denim slid slowly down my legs and I fell forward as he pulled. I felt him touch the exposed skin on the backs of my thighs as he peeled the denim away.
I'd never felt as vulnerable as when his lips touched low on my bare back. I liked the way it felt, but it was so unexpected, so alien. I froze like a thief caught in a spotlight; glad he couldn't see my face.
The heat of his breath disappeared. The cushion beneath me shifted. "Angel?" I turned to face his raised eyebrows. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"I want to." I was glad the lights were low. I didn't want him to see how tense I was.
"You're sure?"
"Yes." I nodded.
Two thumps and Jakes shoes hit the concrete floor behind him. Quickly standing, Jake removed everything from his lower half in one motion. Before I could appreciate the sight of him, he swooped back down, forcing my body onto the chaise until he was, once more, completely on top of me. His magical kisses relaxed me. His gifted hands held me tight.
A languorous moan rumbled through my chest as he moved his mouth down my neck. "Oh, I like that." Jake whispered as he nibbled my ear. "Are you noisy? Should I make you scream?"
I gasped and froze; too shocked to remember what I was doing just a moment ago.
Jake pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. "I'm making you uncomfortable." It wasn't a question.
My hands suddenly tingled. My flushed cheeks ran cold.
Jake sighed and sat up. "It's okay, Angel. I'm not trying to take advantage of you."
I sat up, too. "I want this. I do. It's just-I've never . . . you know. And I don't want to disappoint you."
His shoulders dropped while the gaze he'd kept trained on me shifted to the wall beyond. He offered a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "This is wrong." He shook his head. "We should wait."
My heart seemed to crack at those last three words and I couldn't hide my regret for telling him. I couldn't explain how I felt. I hadn't snuck away that morning, planning on throwing myself at Jake. I was just going to watch him sing and pretend he was doing it for me. But he asked me for this and I was more than willing to give him my all. I just didn't know how.
The hot pricks of tears swelled behind my eyes, as did the shame of my inexperience. I wanted to disappear and drew my knees up to my chest. The thought of stopping, of not having him, made me wilt.
"Hey." He reached out, taking hold of my shoulder. "What's wrong?"
I took a pleading breath. "I've been waiting my whole life."
After thinking for a long moment, he spoke. "You can be so sweet," Jake grinned. "Are you sure?"
I nodded.
"To be honest, Angel, the second I said 'wait', I wished to take it back."
"You did? You want to?"
He placed the backs of his fingers against my cheek. "Are you serious? I can't be the first guy to try. I mean, you're so damn beautiful. I wanna . . ." He moved his hands erratically in the air between us. "Do things to you. You make me feel like a caveman."
My mind filled with a cartoony image of Cro-Magnon-Jake. It stretched my face into a grin. "You wanna club me and drag me away by my hair?"
He gave a slight smile, running his fingers down my side, to my hip. His eyes held no humor when he said, "There'll be no clubbing, Baby Seal." He put a hand across my throat. I watched, mesmerized as he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. "I might go for some hair pulling, though."
My whole body seemed to go up in smoke, singed by those erotic words. My heart fluttered, feeling his fingers around the sides of my neck, his thumb grazing my throat. The touch relaxed every muscle in my body. "That's the sexiest thing I've ever heard."
Jake moved closer, resting his other hand by my hip. "No, being the one you choose as your first is sexy."
With a kiss, he tipped me back, pressed his full weight onto me, letting me feel his long body as his lips sank to my chin, my collar bone, then my shoulder. My entire body shuddered at the intensity of this new touch that somehow felt right and familiar. Like coming home to a place I'd never been. My insides throbbed. I needed more than his lips. Then, his hands explored me: creating new planes over my body. New sensations that made my breath catch. When I started breathing again, I was suddenly desperate, possessed, and wanting things I never knew I could. As he whispered my name, those talented fingers that had sexily strummed his guitar, slithered over me. I bit my lip and squirmed at the deep, dark ache left in the wake.
Glorious shivers washed through me when Jake said my name, connecting our bodies in the most intimate way. There was no pain, only my souls' recognition of its mate: my Jake and his breath, this song his body was singing to me. The rhythm of his heartbeat and my breath conjoined in kisses. Our hearts crashed like waves, mingling in a passionate sea as the chaise lounge began to creak. It was a beautifully violent march-harsh and slow, building into a grating that scraped over the concrete of the pool area.
My feelings, the sounds made me smile.
Jake's fingers knotted in my hair, drawing my attention to his off-centered gaze. The look burned so bright through the dark, that I could see the multihued hazel in each eye, but only half of his pupils. His hair fell forward-disheveled, the roots tinged with sweat-and the volcanic heat that poured from those fiery orbs commanded me to take what he gave, while the way he moved promised I would love it. The way his bottom lip curved up under his teeth as his eyes pleasurably rolled back made me want to beg him to never stop. Whatever he wa
s feeling, I never wanted it to end. I wanted to watch him like that forever.
His passion shocked to my core. A sudden ripple shot through me, from the very center of my being, out to my fingertips: it was a liquefying cadence, beating from the heart of every cell in my body. It made me want to scream and cry his name, but my breath was gone.
I melted into him, took on his shape as he held me closer, curling my head into his chest when he relaxed against me; his heart beating so loud against my ear. When he fell beside me, I still felt his pulse racing, heard his labored breathing. Jake laid an arm under my head and wrapped another around my waist, pulling me against him.
"Happy Birthday, baby." He whispered, landing a trail of kisses from my forehead to my mouth.
The tingling ease that filled me disappeared. Suddenly hollowed out, I hid my face in the crook of his neck, kicking and cringing internally for listening to Avery. After what we'd just done, how was I going to tell him I lied? I shoved the unpleasant question into the proverbial box and locked it away, deciding I'd deal with it another time. And moved closer, clinging to the rapidly fading sweetness of the moment.
All it took was a little time, a lot of Jake, and I felt like a different person.
We made our way back to his motel room and slipped into a pallet on the floor. The lights were out, but Jake turned on a lamp and set it beside us on the rug. Avery was asleep in the far corner of the room, tucked into a tight ball on the extra wide chair. Jake pulled a tablet from his nearby duffle bag and began writing.
Then, he wrote a song for me. He called it my birthday present. I tried to refuse, but he looked so disappointed, saying I needed my own song, that I deserved it because I was his friend first. The guilt I had tucked away reared up, but I didn't know how or where to start and kept my mouth shut as Jake called me loyal; because I never let them put me on a guest list, even though sometimes it was hard to pay for my ticket, even though going to see them play sometimes meant I had to hitchhike. But the band wasn't with a label and what kind of fan would I be if I didn't show my support?
In its' original form my song, oddly titled Eve, was heavy and lurid. Sweet passion wrapped in a dirty melody. And the lyrics were beautiful. I think that's what made me love Analog Controller so much-their music, in and of itself, was fantastic, but the melody and content of the lyrics took it all to another level. It was like the most delicious frosting on the world's greatest cake. Decadent and sexy. Addictive. Yeah, that was Jake.
I can admit now that I was a little obsessive about it, but at the time I didn't see it that way. Hero worship can make you see reason in the crazy.