Okay, my babies, here is Chapter 2. We're picking up the tempo now. Hope you are enjoying it.
XO,
L
*****
SECOND MOVEMENT
[A section of a musical composition in which the progression of the piece continues to unfold...]
Jake paced around his swank hotel room, unable to sit still. It was easier when Frankie was just a distant fantasy - an idealized prototype of the woman he always wanted. Perfect and unattainable. That's what he was used to.
But now, they were in the same city. And in less than an hour, he was going to be in the same room with her. He was going to actually talk with her for the first time in over ten years. He ran his fingers through his hair, unknowingly disheveling it quite fashionably.
Mint from his toothpaste made the inside of his mouth tingle. Through the leather soles of his boots and all the way through his fine-gauge knit socks, he could perceive the knap of the rug as he walked. The cool cotton of his untucked navy dress shirt felt smooth on his skin - like his senses were overly-sharp. Pressing his palm to his hard, flat stomach, Jake wondered if he should try to eat something, and then immediately dismissed the idea. He was too nervous.
He allowed his mind to wander back to the last time he'd seen her in person. Her graduation from college, three years ago. No one he knew had seen him, he'd made sure of that. But he had to be there - he had to see her accept her diploma. Arranging the scholarship had not been easy - but it was something he could do for her. After his lawyer set up the endowment, it was a simple matter of establishing eligibility criteria that fit Frankie's situation - a female voice major, from the Massachusetts region, who had raw talent and great financial need.
He still remembered his lawyer's comical expression when Jake decided to give four-year grants not only to Frankie but also to three other need-based music students who fit the criteria. Hell, it was a good idea and he was sure that it would be a good thing to do. A little nod to karma.
He remembered the bright sunshine of that June day in Boston. He sat far in the back of the audience, hiding behind Aviator sunglasses and a Red Sox baseball cap. Frankie practically glided when she walked. The sun turned her silky hair to white gold. The bell-sleeved gowns worn by all of the graduates seemed to billow mythically on her as she received her diploma and flipped the tassel to the other side of her cap. She glanced back over the crowd, a dazzling smile on her face, until she picked out her family. Frankie's brothers were making ridiculous hooting sounds, and she laughed, tipping her head back, one graceful hand holding the cap in place. Jake felt dizzy just watching her.
How he'd wished that she'd remembered his letter and had chosen him - that she'd called him after turning eighteen, as he'd hoped. But Frankie had moved on, and he respected that. It didn't mean that he stopped loving her. He promised to be there for her, so he was - whether she knew it or not. He'd have happily given her more than money, if she'd let him.
Jake was jerked back to the present when his phone chirped. His car was downstairs. He snatched up his smart, pinstriped jacket and shrugged into it, surveilling himself in the mirror one last time. He felt pale under his L.A. tan, but he mentally shrugged - this would have to do. His jeans were genuinely old and distressed, which made them look expensive. He didn't really know how people dressed for jazz clubs in the lower east side, but he thought this would probably allow him to blend.
Slipping the key to his suite into his pocket alongside his phone, he headed to the elevators. It was all he could do to stop himself from running.
The back of the SUV was cool and quiet, and his driver was mercifully silent as they made their way across town. Lost in his memories, Jake was stunned to suddenly feel the vehicle pull to a stop outside of Strange Fruit. She was somewhere inside.
As the driver jumped out to walk around and open his door, Jake practiced his deep breathing trick. He had to calm down. She was a human being, after all, like everyone else. Maybe she'd be pleased to see him. His manners automatically kicked in, and he thanked his driver politely as he exited. The door to the club was discreet, and the sign was barely noticeable - as if it was an old time speakeasy.
The doorman straightened slightly when he entered, seeing the unmistakable signs of an affluent customer, but Jake never noticed. An attractive young woman with gorgeous coffee-colored skin, a mass of curls and startlingly pale amber eyes flirted with him lightly as she led him to a prime table toward the center of the room. Jake gently asked if he could sit a bit further back from the tiny stage, and without skipping a beat, she pushed back the seat she'd been holding for him, and led him a few tables back.
With a practiced air, she let her arm rest against the back of his seat as she leaned down for his drink order. He could smell her patchouli-based cologne. Jake ordered a single malt and a bottle of water, handing over a platinum card as he asked her to keep an open tab.
When the waitress had left, he glanced down at his watch. It was 8:55. He only had to wait five more minutes. Jake suppressed an impatient sigh and adjusted his posture, pushing the small shaded candle on his table a bit further away so it didn't shine so directly in his line of sight. He decided to kill time thinking about what he would say to her.
'Hey, there, Frankie. Long time no see...' Well shit, that was just god-awful.
'I bet you're wondering why I'm here...' Hell no.
'I can see those Billie Holliday records paid off...' Not the worst attempt, but still pitiful.
'You look just the way I always imagined.' JESUS!! Stalk much? No way.
Jake shook his head a bit, as if trying to clear it. He ran his fingers through his hair again. He really had to get a grip. The cute waitress brought him his Scotch and water. He smiled up at her gratefully.
Without thinking about it he asked: "Should I go ahead and order another one before the show starts?" The only thing betraying the woman's thoughts was a quickly raised eyebrow, but she recovered immediately and gave him a smooth, professional smile.
"Good idea. We don't like to create any distractions when my girl is singing. I'll get that for you right away." She winked at Jake before she sashayed back toward the bar. The rest of the tables were rapidly filling up, and the room seemed to be almost humming with anticipation.
Jake allowed the whiskey to coat his tongue, letting the burn dissipate, before he took a serious sip. The heat spread down his throat and hit his anxious stomach like a fist. It felt good. Alcohol didn't usually have much of an effect on him, and he rarely drank very much. But it wouldn't do to lose control tonight. Jake set down the Scotch and picked up the glass of water, knocking back half in one go.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Frowning, he pulled it out and read the text. It was from Danny.
"ARE YOU SEEING HER TONIGHT?"
Jake typed back a simple "Y. AM AT THE CLUB NOW."
"LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ASAP. SEE IF YOU CAN GET HER TO COME FOR A TEST."
Jake laughed a little at the director's excitement. They'd been over this many times already.
"WE ALREADY DISCUSSED THIS. DON'T WORRY. I AM ON IT. GOTTA GO NOW> SHOW STARTING... TTYL"
Jake put his phone on airplane mode so he would not be disturbed further. As he slipped the phone back in his jacket pocket, the saucy waitress returned with his second drink.
Leaning close to his ear, she said: "This one is on the house, Mr. Garner. We're big fans of your work." Jake flushed a little, and leaned back to look at her. She smiled, and it had a slightly deferential look.
