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"Troy's dad?"
"No. Troy. He talked some shit to my little brother. Can you believe that? A fucking senior picking on a handicapped freshman? The second he's eighteen, I'm kicking his ass. And I don't want you talking to him, either."
"I don't."
"Good." He took my hand and pulled. "Come on."
I followed him towards the back patio area that was teeming with young trees in barrels and hanging plants. He led the way to the last section of patio furniture near a back corner and stopped in front a covered bench swing. Taking a seat, Jake patted the spot beside him.
The moment I sat down, he hooked his hand behind my neck and yanked me in for another kiss. It was too quick to enjoy anything beyond the initial spark of contact.
"So what's up?" he asked, eyes now shining. "Did you miss me or something?"
I took the drink from him. "Nope. Not one bit."
He grinned and pressed his feet into the cement floor. Starting the swing. "Angel, will you move to California with me?"
I burst into a surprised laugh.
Jake stopped the swing. "Don't laugh. I'm serious. Angel, I need you to come to California with me."
My heart leapt into my throat. "You're staying out there? For sure?" It was the fear and possibility that lingered in my mind since I learned how far away the tour would take them.
"I'm gotta try. You'll be eighteen in another couple months. Aged out of the system. No one will come looking for you. We can stay there, together."
"But school-"
"Is out in a few weeks."
"I'll miss my graduation." Not that I gave crap about it. If Jake wasn't going to be there clapping for me, it didn't matter if I walked. But I'd have to leave Avery. The Foster. And as much as that scared me, I was considering it. Seriously leaning towards an emphatic 'yes!' because if Jake was going, I needed to be where he was.
"You don't have to come right away. If you want, you can wait until schools' out. But I won't be able to be at your ceremony. I have to go. It's now or never for me."
"Why? I mean, why so sudden?"
He smirked. "Not so sudden. My world keeps spinning even when you're stuck at home. I've been talking to a guy named Pierce. He works at a label out in L.A. It's an independent, but they've got distribution. He was visiting his cousin who lives down the street from me. He heard us practicing, Angel. He's gonna come to our shows in Tempe and Glendale, to watch the auditions. If he likes what he sees, he wants us out in L.A., working the scene. He'll sign us, babe."
A shiver of fear rippled through me. First the big tour with Anemic Psychos and now this. It was starting. This was happening: everything Jake ever wanted might suddenly be within his reach. Yeah, it was only an indie label, but that was just a beginning.
I knew there was no way that Pierce guy was going to walk away. Talent was talent and label reps never showed their hand. They always acted like they were doing you a favor. But the band had also never been so ready. Pierce was probably worried they'd get snatched up by someone else, which if true, meant there might be more than one shark in the water.
It was easy for the guys in Analog Controller to pick up and go. They were all out of school. The lease on their place would expire in another month. None of the guys were seriously involved in anything other than music and replaceable jobs. Except Jake. He'd tethered himself to me.
And he wanted me to go. He was asking.
"Okay." I breathed, feeling how easy it was to give him what he wanted. I wanted it too, more than anything.
"Fuck, yeah, baby! We're moving!" He clapped his hands and whooped before leaning in to really let me have it; a long, open-mouth, send-the-fire-through-to-my-toes kiss. I melted into his expert touch.
He mumbled against my lips. "Deanna working tonight?"
"Yes," I mumbled back.
"Good. We'll celebrate."
22
-Angel
