“Jack.” My uncle Mason’s deep voice comes through the phone.
“Hey, any chance you are heading to LA in the next few days? I might need to hitch a ride.” Opening the fridge in the kitchen, I pull out a cold bottle of water because the summer heat in LA sucks.
“No, but for you, I’ll make an exception. Tomorrow morning too soon?” I can hear the happiness in his voice to hear from me.
“Perfect, keep it between us though, okay?” I know I can trust him. I’m extremely close to all three of my uncles, and then I have my three aunties who love to fuss over me almost as much as my mother does.
“Understood. I’ll text you the details after I get off the call and set the flight up.” I can hear him already typing on a keyboard in the background.
“Thanks, Mase.” I know Colt is going to be pissed that I’m disappearing for a few days without warning, so I’m not going tobother telling him until I’m boarding the plane in the morning. I need this space, so he can just suck it up and deal with it.
“Sounds awesome, can’t wait. I’ll see you in the morning,” I reply, and just as I’m about to say goodbye, he stops me.
“Jack.” He sounds concerned. “You okay, buddy?”
“Yeah, of course. Just thought I’d grace you all with my surprise appearance,” I say, trying to keep my voice upbeat.
“And we’ll all love having you at home, no matter how short the visit. Especially your mom. Get ready for the tears.” He chuckles.
“Oh God, I know, but we both know Dad’s just as bad these days.” Which has us both laughing.
“True. See you at the airport, buddy.” We hang up after saying goodbye.
This is one of the perks of having a family who is extremely wealthy and own multiple big businesses and a few private jets, which my uncle is the head pilot of. Because when you are as well-known as I am, it’s not like you can easily fly coach on a whim.
I can afford to hire a private flight of my own to avoid the hysteria at the airport, but flying with Uncle Mase has always been special, ever since that very first time when I was only four years old. For twenty years I’ve been on and off his jets, and to be honest, it feels weird when I’m on a private jet and it’s not one of ours with him in the cockpit.
I’m only planning on being home for a few days, so I don’t need much. I grab a bag from the floor in my walk-in closet and start throwing in some shirts and shorts, and as I’m gathering some swim shorts, I can see into my bedroom where my phone has lit up on the bed. Walking out with my half-packed bag in my hand, I drop it on to my bed and answer the call, putting it on speaker.
“Hi, Petra,” I answer as I’m folding my swim shorts to put in my bag and then sit on the side of my bed.
“Hey, babe, where are you?” Petra has been my publicist since I signed with Splendor Records, but she has also become a friend along the way. It started out as a business relationship, where she was the person in charge of spinning our band’s narrative with the media and making sure nothing negative or personal was leaked anywhere across social media. But the more time we spent together, she became less of a person who works for the band and more like one of the members, especially since she travels on every tour with us and never leaves our sides.
“Just at home taking it easy. About to head into my studio here to do some work. What’s up?” I ask.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to meet up for some dinner, but I don’t want to interrupt you if you’re working. Let me know if you finish early enough and I’ll come over for a night cap.” Her voice tells me she is hinting for more than just a late-night drink. Especially when she knows that I don’t drink that often, just occasionally when we are out or have something to celebrate. It stifles my creative flow.
I’ve managed to stay true to myself and not fall into the life of many musicians who spend so much time in a world of continuous partying and leaning on either drugs or alcohol to make it through the grueling schedules of touring. But where I made the mistake with Petra, was sleeping with her one night after we had been celebrating our latest platinum record. I knew the next morning I had fucked up big time and talked to her straight away about it, where she agreed we were just letting off steam. She said it was a one-off and wouldn’t happen again, that she had a job to do, and we were just friends. But her words haven’t matched her actions since.
The way she looks at me and treats me has changed after that night, and no matter how much I try, I can’t seem to getback behind that line we crossed. Besides the fact that she is ten years older than me, she isn’t really my type either. I’ve grown up surrounded by powerful women who I adore, but there is something about the way Petra tries to assert herself I just don’t like. I can’t put my finger on it, but my gut just tells me she’s best kept as a friend.
“Sure, but don’t wait for me. I’ll probably be in the studio for a few hours. My brain is buzzing. You know how I get.” I’m not lying because it is buzzing, but not actually with inspiration right now. I’m just tired and need a break from the current craziness of my life.
“Great, always happy to hear you are making more magic. If you need to bounce your ideas off someone, let me know, I’m always here.” She’s not giving up, and I’m slightly worried she might just show up at my house tonight anyway.
“Thanks. Yeah, talk soon, good night.” I hang up from our call and flop backwards onto my bed.
Hopefully if I just keep ignoring the not-so-subtle hints, then maybe she will get the message and move on. I don’t want to make an issue about it, because Petra is good at her job and we need her, so it’s best not to piss her off too much. Or give her a reason to fire us as clients.
Closing my eyes, I try to block everything out for a moment. Sometimes just sitting in the silence can spark a creative flame, which in turn inspires a new lyric, or unlocks a melody for a song that has felt out of reach for months.
But tonight is just not one of those nights.
Instead, my stomach growls, which is nothing unusual for me. I remember my mom used to tell me I had hollow legs when I was growing up because I was always eating. Nothing much has changed except that I’m not that skinny tall kid anymore. By the time I was eighteen I had filled out, and now, working in the gym every day helps too. I have my dad and my uncles tothank for the daily workout ethic. They all have high-powered, stressful careers, and as soon as my music career started to take off, they drummed into me that exercise is good for my mental health while dealing with the immense pressure I’m under. They were so right, and now no matter where I am in the world, every morning I get up and work out.
Time to go raid the fridge.
My phone blew up when I turned it back on after we landed in Chicago. My bandmates were cool, but of course Colt and Petra were both going nuts.
