Chapter 13 Jake Meets Tori
Tori sat cross-legged on the carpet, casually toying with one of the throw pillows from the couch. I was across from her, legs stretched out, book forgotten for now. I figured the least I could do was keep her company—especially since this whole situation was my uncle's fault.
"So," she said, looking at me over the pillow, "do you live here?"
"Yeah. Me and my dad," I replied with a small nod. "Technically, it's my uncle's house, though."
She glanced around the living room. "It's big. Fancy. Kind of smells like cologne and old pizza."
I smirked. "Welcome to Malibu. Home of mild dysfunction and oceanfront views."
She chuckled, finally relaxing a bit.
"What about your family?" I asked. "You said you have a sister?"
"Yeah, Trina," she said, letting out a sigh. "She's... a lot. Like, if a drama club exploded and became a person. She thinks she's destined for Broadway."
"Not really," Tori said without hesitation. "But she's got confidence. I guess that counts for something."
I laughed. "Honestly, that might be the only thing that matters in showbiz."
She tilted her head. "What about your mom? She around?"
I hesitated a moment, then leaned back on my hands. "She's... traveling."
No need to sugarcoat it. After the money hit, Mom had gone off to Europe—some five-star tour of art museums and overpriced restaurants. All courtesy of her share of Dad's millions.
He said it was fine. Said he was happy she was getting space.
But I knew what it was.
"They're splitting up," I added. "Divorce in slow motion."
And with the way her mom had been hovering over Charlie this morning, it looked like she and her husband might not be far behind. But then again, in the series they were still together, and that's six years from now.
Tori nodded. "Yeah... that happens a lot lately."
We sat in a quiet pause for a few seconds, not uncomfortable.
"What do you like to do?" she asked after a beat.
"Hmm..." I tilted my head. "Reading, mostly. Business stuff. A little finance."
She raised an eyebrow. "Finance? You read about money for fun?"
"Pretty much," I said. "I manage a fund. Small one."
Tori blinked. "What's a fund?"
"It's kind of like a pool of money people put together to invest in stuff," I explained. "Stocks, options, sometimes other assets. I just try not to lose everyone's money—and maybe double it when things go well."
Her mouth opened slightly. "So you're like... twelve and running a business?"
"Technically. But not really a business in a normal way, I just need to buy stocks, a part of some enterprises," I said, shrugging with a half-smile.
"That's insane," she muttered, shaking her head. "I barely remember my email password."
I chuckled. "I barely remember my name is Jacob. Guess we all have our priorities."
"So what do you like to do?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Music," she said instantly. "Singing, mostly. I try to write songs sometimes. I mess around on the piano when Trina's not hogging it."
I looked toward the grand piano in the corner. "Wanna try it?" I said, gesturing toward it. "My uncle doesn't care." That was totally a lie.
"Really??" Tori said, her eyes lighting up.
She hopped to her feet and walked over like she belonged there. She sat on the bench, fingers hovering over the keys for a second, then pressing down with gentle confidence. A few chords, warm and familiar, filled the room. Then, without warning, she began to sing.
Her voice was soft at first, then grew stronger, richer. She didn't try too hard—didn't oversell it like some kid auditioning for a talent show. It was natural.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, genuinely impressed. It wasn't just decent—it was good. Really good for her age.
She finished the short song with a gentle run of notes, then looked back at me with a small, hopeful smile. "Too much?"
I shook my head. "No way. That was amazing."
She grinned. "Your turn."
"You said your uncle doesn't care. Come on, show me what you got."
I rolled my eyes but got up anyway. "Fine, but don't judge me too hard."
I sat down beside her, cracked my knuckles like some kind of dramatic performer, and started playing a simple melody I remembered from my past life. Just a soft, flowing tune. Not flashy—but clean.
Then I took a breath, let my fingers settle into the opening chords, and began to sing.
(Talking to the moon - Bruno Mars)
♪ I know you're somewhere out there, somewhere far away... ♪
My voice was soft at first. Tori straightened a bit, her smile fading into something more focused. She was listening.
♪ I want you back, I want you back...
My neighbors think I'm crazy, but they don't understand
You're all I had, you're all I had... ♪
I kept playing, letting the melody guide me, letting the words carry more than just their meaning. There was something raw in that song—something that hit different when you felt alone in a house that never really felt like home.
♪ At night when the stars light up my room... I sit by myself... Talking to the moon... Tryna get to you... ♪
Tori stared, unmoving, completely drawn in. Her eyes were wide.
♪ In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too... Or am I a fool who sits alone, talking to the moon... ♪
I glanced at her with a small smirk. "What do you think?"
"Oh, come on, don't stop now!" she whined
I chuckled, then picked up where I left off:
♪ Oh... I'm feelin' like I'm famous, the talk of the town
They say I've gone mad, yeah,
But they don't know what I know,
'cause when the sun goes down
Someone's talking back, yeah, they're talking back, oh... ♪
I let the final chord ring out, echoing gently into silence.
Tori was still, almost breathless. Her eyes shimmered a bit in the light. Then, out of nowhere, she leaned in and kissed me softly on the cheek.
"Whoa—what the— whatta hell girl?!" I blurted, blinking in surprise,
She just grinned. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."
Before I could say anything else, Charlie strolled into the room with a mischievous grin.
"Well, well, look who's getting along," he said playfully, raising an eyebrow.