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

minus the personal touches: the posters,
books, guitars, cords, desktop computer and…the pictures of Aly. I
stood staring at the shelf where her framed images used to exist
and emptiness gutted through me. I missed her.
    I stared at the door at the other end of the
room, the door that led to the backyard. The door that Aly would
sneak through when we were just teenagers. I walked to it, opening
it, and dirt and debris scattered into the room. No one had opened
the door in years. I walked out past the hot tub, toward the back
fence, where the gate was: the gate that Aly would use to get into
my backyard. The gate that our parents built together so us kids
could roam between houses when we were little. I turned, staring up
at Aly’s house, and wished she were inside of it. I would have sent
her a text to come over via our secret path, long forgotten by our
parents.
    I itched to send Aly a message, or to call
her, to hear her voice. Those thoughts reminded me of the text I
sent to Sienna, who never replied. I stalked back into my room and
called Marty.
    “Jake?” he answered, surprised to hear from
me. I looked at the clock. Oops, it was late for him. He sounded
groggy.
    “Yeah. Sorry man, did I wake you?”
    “No. Just watching TV.”
    I paced the room. “I have something I need
you to look into.”
    I explained to Marty about my interview with
Glen and Sienna’s book deal. I wanted him to find out exactly what
was going on with her. I told him she lived in Miami and I gave him
her address.
    “Do you want me to fly there? Is that what
you’re asking?”
    I wasn’t sure. “Um. Do you want to?” I
scratched my head. “No, that would be out of line. Don’t you
think?” I kind of wanted him to.
    “Jake, I don’t know about that. Showing up
unannounced and then grilling her about her life? She didn’t tell
you because she wants to be left alone, is my guess.”
    My stomach sank, and I sighed. “Marty,
Sienna and had an affair.”
    There was silence, and my heart raced at my
direct admission.
    “I’m not surprised to hear that,” he replied
flatly.
    Ouch. “Was it obvious?”
    “You guys were pretty close there. I’m just
not surprised, that’s all.”
    I laid back on my bed, raking my free hand
down my face. “I don’t know what happened. I knew it was wrong and
so did she, but we couldn’t help ourselves.” I closed my eyes,
suddenly feeling tired. “I’ve done some pretty shitty things,
Marty, but you know that. I’m sure when the masses find out it was
all true, they won’t be surprised either.”
    “Aly might not ever speak to you again. For
real this time.” His voice was gravely.
    “She knows.” I wanted to sleep. I grew
weaker with each confession. “That’s why she’s not speaking to me
now. That’s probably why she’s choosing to marry Nathan, because
I’m a fucking scumbag.”
    Marty and I discussed the Sienna situation a
bit more, and I told him to contact Mr. Todd. First, to try banging
on his door, and if he couldn’t get him that way, to leave him a
note with one of the doormen. David Todd would know exactly who to
contact to get dirt.

7
     
    Little pink flowers budded
on the tree limbs over my head as I sat on a cement park bench,
down the street from the house I’d just rented, waiting for Gabe to
drop off the keys to me. I’d taken the jaunt down the hill from my
mom’s to grab some coffee, and didn’t really feel like walking
back. I needed to clear my head. Bobby and I’d been stuck in the
studio, recording song after song, and we’d finally finished nearly
two weeks later. I’d stood in front of the house on
16 th Street, proud of my choice. A two-story contemporary home with
dark wood accents, high ceilings and a hot tub; clean lines and no
fluff, just as I liked it. The only things that were missing were
the canvases of Aly. I’d contemplated having Marty send them, but I
just didn’t know how long I’d be there.
    The home was fully
furnished. All I had