“You got it boss.”
He led the girl off and I sighed, staring into the mirror. Even without the after parties, I was toasted. Crunchy really.
I couldn’t wait to get away from it all.
I knew just where to go, too. I’d just bought a plot of land in a quiet, seaside village on Long Island.
Peace and quiet. Just what the doctor ordered. Just one last sold out arena gig before I could get some me time. For once in my life, the entourage was not invited. I was going to unplug and unwind.
I rolled my shoulders and headed out to the stage.
Showtime.
Chapter 1
Jenny
BANG BANG BANG BANG
Rattatat rattatat ratttat tat
I pulled the covers over my head. Then I added a pillow, hoping that it would stop the incessant banging.
Nope.
Nothing I’d tried yet could block out the sound of the construction workers next door. Ear plugs. White noise machines. Sound canceling headphones.
They'd been building an enormous beach house next door for the past three months. With each nail, a little piece of my soul was getting smashed to pieces.
I lived in my Meemaw's house by the bay on the North Fork of Long Island. My grandmother had willed it to me, knowing that as a young chef, I would need a home after culinary school.
For the past two years, I had lived here full time, inspirited daily by my beautiful view of the bay, preparing my delicacies with sea breeze as my companion.
The breeze and my trusty sidekick, Basil.
But not any longer.
Not only was the new house disrupting my sleep but it would partially block my beautiful view to the South. It made me want to cry. In fact, I did cry about it. All the time.
I felt something cold and wet against my toe and peeked out of the blankets. Basil Rathbones was sitting by the bed, staring at me mournfully.
The dog had guilty expressions down pat.
"I know boy. You don't like it either."
I sighed and sat up.
"Oh well. We might as well get on with it."
I slid my toes into my slippers and padded into the kitchen to make coffee. I stretched my hamstrings and glutes while I waited for the coffee to brew. A plate of scones I’d baked the day before were sitting under a napkin. I selected one and dipped it into the coffee, taking a delicious bite.
As a pastry chef with my own small catering business, I was always baking.
And eating.
Basil was staring at me.
"What? I'll jog it off later."
He tilted his head to the side and whimpered. He wasn’t buying it. I shrugged. A chef without a few extra pounds was highly suspicious if you asked me.
"Oh okay, you can have one too."
I reached into the old fashioned candy jar I kept on my tiny countertop and fished out a doggie scone. I made them twice a week just for my little fur buddy. They smelled kind of gross to me, but he loved them. Plus they were good for him.
That was extra important to me.
He was all I had since Meemaw passed.
Friends, sure. But family? Just this one scruffy little hairball. He was all I had in the whole wide world.
I sighed and rubbed his head while he finished his treat.
"Ready to go out?"
He whimpered and held his paw out.
"Alright buddy. Let's go. A promise is a promise.”
I slipped into my jogging shorts and jog bra, throwing a worn in rock t-shirt over it. It was one I’d had since junior high school, with the neck and arms cut off. It had been washed a couple hundred times and as a result was super soft and barely covered my tummy.
I rubbed my belly contentedly. It swelled a bit, but I liked it. It kept me warm at night.
I laced up my beat up old sneakers and ran outside with Basil right at my heels.
It was a beautiful day. Clear blue skies with a couple of fluffy white clouds. A nice breeze. Warm but not too hot.
If I could ignore the sounds of construction from next door it would be one for the books.
It was perfect.
Chapter 2
Slade
It was perfect.
I stared out at the view. An unobstructed view of the calm waters of the bay. It was quiet here too, with only a handful of cottages dotting the shoreline.
This was the place I would write my next album in. Recover from the last tour and all the hard partying.
Regroup.
Lord knows I’d deserved it. I’d done everything the label wanted. The band. Our manager. Everyone.
Everyone except me.
I felt like I hardly ever did what I really wanted. Hell, I wasn't even sure I knew what that was. It was all about maintaining the image. Keeping everyone else happy.
As much as I loved the music, I had come to hate the other side of it.
Even the groupies were overly demanding. I’d done the whole Rock Star thing. Doling out one night stands like they were going out of style. Kept condoms in business for years. Even enjoyed it. A lot.
But now I just wanted some peace and quiet.