Higher Octave (Heavy Influence #2.5) by Ann Marie Frohoff

“Cool.” I
shifted backward, feeling anxious about keeping Gabe waiting. “I’ll
get your number from Gabe.”
    “Okay.” She began to push her cart forward
and I walked beside her. “See you soon, then.”
    Indeed you will. “Sounds good.” I waved goodbye.
    I felt a spring in my step as I grabbed a
new carton of eggs, paid, and walked out of the store. I wasn’t
sure what I was feeling, but an easy semblance of something that
had been missing for so long flared. There was something inspiring
and hopeful in Grace. Gabe was out of the car, leaning against the
hood.
    “Sorry. I ran into Grace,” I mumbled quickly
as I passed him to open the car door.
    His eyebrows inched upward.
    “I asked her to coffee.” I couldn’t look at
him, and instantly felt a discontented vibe.
    “Jake, she’s not…”
    “Stop.” I interrupted, standing with one leg
in the truck, looking at him over the hood. “This isn’t a conquest,
Gabe, it’s just coffee.”
    “Jake, with all due respect…” He paused.
Concern draped over his weathered face, and he looked away from me
and moved getting in the truck. “I don’t want to put you in any
stereotypical category...”
    “But you are,” I said flatly, sullen by his
assumption. I pulled my door shut, and he did the same. A tense
moment passed. “I don’t need babysitting, and neither does she. If
she didn’t want to meet me, she wouldn’t have said yes.”
    Gabe started the car and began to drive from
the parking lot. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business what you do.
You’re right. I’m just hired to drive you.”
    There was no malice in his tone, but his
words stung. Sure, I hired him to drive me, but we’d become
friends. Grace was his friend, even more so than I.
    He continued, “She’s just been through a
lot, and she’s delicate, Jake. Getting involved with you wouldn’t
be a good thing for her. You’re on a different playing field. She’s
a mother and a widow. You’re a young rock star with your entire
life ahead of you.”
    I nodded; he was right.
“Gabe I just have to know her, okay? There’s a lot going on there,
and I just have to see what it’s all about. I’m drawn to her, and
it’s not in an I wanna fuck her kinda way.”
    I thought about what I’d said to Gabe as I
walked into the house carrying the eggs my mother asked me to get
for her. I wasn’t sure what I wanted from Grace. I knew she was
older than me, but her age never crossed my mind. I wanted to get
to know her and those raw emotions she’d let loose while I
performed. It didn’t dawn on me that she might think I was
interested in her in a lustful sorta way. I shuffled through the
kitchen, now regretting asking her to coffee as I put the carton in
the fridge. She certainly didn’t need me in her life.
    I stood in the middle of
the kitchen, looking at the glasswares that sat in the dish rack,
the sun’s reflection on them bouncing light all around. The vase on
the counter was filled with red roses I’d not noticed
before. Notting . A
loaf of bread sat opened in front of the toaster, and I walked over
to it and twisted it closed, tying it off. I’d left it
opened.
    It made me wonder where Notting and my mom
were. It looked as if they didn’t even set foot into the kitchen
all day. Only my mess was visible; nothing of theirs. I was
curious. Did they leave it like that on purpose? Where they tired
of picking up after me? I chucked ruefully. I’m sure they were.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t picked up after myself, ever. I
always had someone picking up behind me. First my mom, then hired
hands. They were probably finally sick of it. I stepped to the
dishwasher and opened it. There was nothing inside. I rinsed my
coffee cup and the plate I’d used, and put them in the dishwasher.
I then followed up by wiping down the counters.
    I had to move out. I had to get my own place
if I was going to stay in LA.
    My room was still my room, sort of. All the
furniture was the same,