My photo album is now full of pictures and videos of my niece, doing nothing but sleeping or attempting to roll over.
"I’m not reading the comments," I tell her, quickly clicking the tiny x at the top corner of the page before opening a new window. Not that she can see my screen from where she sits.
"Good. Your final show here in New York is tomorrow, and I don’t exactly want you to be mopey on stage. Well, more so than you already are."
I hear the words she says, I really do, but they don’t have the same effect on me she expects them to.
If I had let her words sink in, maybe they would have, but it seems I’ve found another topic to bury myself in.
Avery Jones.
If the world wants to know what’s going on with him and me,Iwant to know whoheis, outside of basketball.
"Why are your fingers tapping away at your keyboard like an angry woman writing to the manager?" She walks over tome, flopping down onto the couch, her view of my screen now obvious. "Ooh, has he finally piqued your interest?"
"No." I slam my laptop closed, realizing I can sneakily Google him on my phone without her prying eyes. "And I do not mope, by the way. It’s hard to mope when you’re too busy trying not to mess up your own songs."
She hears the frustration in my voice and changes the subject again. "Should we watch a movie or something?" Crossing her feet at the ankle on the very expensive coffee table in my hotel room, Josie picks up the remote control from the couch beside her.
"Uh, I’m a little tired," I tell her, hoping she gets the hint. Instead, she throws a blanket over her legs.
Her night is just getting started when mine ended hours ago.
A knock sounds at my door before I can come up with an excuse to get her to leave.
Tonight is the first night I planned to be completely alone with no distractions. But there’s nothing quite like pumping yourself up to do something that takes every ounce of courage you have, only to not get the chance to do it.
I mean, what I have planned isn’t exciting.
It’s my medication, for Christ's sake. An unfortunate necessity that I need to force myself to become acquainted with. One I’ve put off for six whole days.
Having a crowd while I administer my first dose, isn’t exactly how I pictured it going.
This is for me to deal with, and me alone.
I need peace. I need silence. I need clarity, or I might jab it into the wrong spot, or do it too fast or too slow, or with not enough pressure.
I need…to be alone
Dammit.
Opening the door, a green-eyed Akira Rain stands in front of me, a bottle of expensive champagne held out in her extended hands. "I thought we could celebrate," she says, pushing past me, heading directly into my kitchen.
"Great," I whisper to myself, trying to think of a game plan, a way out. Because if one thing is absolutely clear, it’s that my night has been plannedforme, and I don’t think I’ll be able to make them leave without coming across as rude. "Wait, what is that?" She places the bottle of champagne down onto the marble kitchen counter, staring directly at my painting from earlier today.
"‘Thatis supposed to be a basketball." I shudder when I take in the orange blob painted over a blue sky.
"You mean you kept it?" Akira asks, her nose scrunched up. "I watched that interview and assumed you’d just…set it on fire or something."
"I tried to toss it out for her, but she wouldn’t let me." Josie chimes from the couch. "Ooo, champagne! Yes,please!" My manager leaps to her feet, making her way to my kitchen, helping herself to glasses on the top shelf.
"It’s not that I didn’t let you. I just didn’t want them to see you do it," I say.
"He’s growing on you, isn’t he?" Josie asks, and Akira freezes as she reaches for a glass Josie just set down.
"Can we drop it? It’s a painting, not a love letter."
I never thought I’d wish for the version of Josie I had before the auction. It’s like, doing something ‘fun’ made her realize that she didn’t constantly need to be so strict, and now she’s trying to throw me under the bus or catch me in a lie.
