“And after I heroically rescued you, you’re right back to the sarcasm.” Hetsks, tapping his fingers on the bar. “No gratitude whatsoever.”
“Hey, I gave you a free beer in exchange for your services. That’s payment. I can only be sweet and grateful for so long before it gets exhausting.” I toss the rag under the counter. “But fine, to satisfy your wounded ego: thank you again. Very rom-com moment, actually. The whole thing.”
“Is it?” He tilts his head.
“Oh yeah. Fake boyfriend swooping in to save the day at the last possible second?” I lean back in my chair, abandoning the vodka inventory for now. “That’s like, classic rom-com territory. Straight out of the playbook. And Iloverom-coms, so I’m always happy to accidentally live one out in real life.”
“Well, happy to provide the authentic experience.” He does this ridiculous bow that gets a laugh out of me. “But seriously,”he says, settling back on his stool, “what was Brandon giving you grief about? Something about your music?”
“Yeah, I know it probably sounds kind of far-fetched,” I admit, fidgeting with a pen on the counter. “But I’ve been seriously working toward being a professional musician. It’s been my dream since I was a kid, but I’ve only really started making a legitimate go of it in the last year or so.”
“Hey, it’s not any more far-fetched than becoming a Formula One driver,” Jack says. “Everyone thought I was absolutely crazy when I started pursuing racing. Kept telling me the odds, how impossible it was, how I should have a backup plan. Fuck anyone who tells you something can’t be done just because it’s difficult.”
Most people either give me these pitying smiles or immediately launch into lectures about backup plans and being realistic.Have you tried teaching music instead? Maybe focus on songwriting for other people?It’s refreshing to talk to someone who gets what it’s like to chase something that seems impossible.
“Thanks.” I find myself smiling. “I’ve been posting videos online and slowly building up my catalog. I got some interest from a label recently. Which is potentially life-changing if it works out.”
“That’s incredible.” He actually sounds interested. “Which label?”
“Tidal Records in LA,” I say. “But they want me to quadruple my social media following before they’ll seriously consider signing me. Which is a massive problem. Plus I have my own issue where I freeze completely when performing my own stuff.”
“Stage fright?”
“The pathological kind.” It’s embarrassing to admit, but his lack of judgment makes it easier. “I’m usually pretty extroverted, but performing?Disaster. Which is ridiculous because I loved performing as a kid, but somewhere along the way I internalizedall this criticism and…” Brandon’s voice creeps into my mind, and I try to shake it off. “Anyway. Zero stage presence now.”
“That’s brutal,” he says, and I appreciate that he doesn’t try to minimize it or offer some cliché advice like ‘just imagine everyone naked.’
I smile. “Yeah, well. Now the whole industry’s about numbers anyway. Followers, engagement rates, algorithmic bullshit. Sometimes it feels less about music and more about becoming an influencer who happens to sing.”
“Tell me about it.” His laugh has a bitter edge. “Half my job now is posting workout videos and pretending to love whatever energy drink is paying me. My contract negotiations are stalled because my ‘image’ isn’t clean enough for sponsors.”
“Because of that Monaco video?”
“Yeah. You heard about that?” He looks vaguely uncomfortable, which is new for someone who seems perpetually confident.
“Everyoneheard about it, Jack. It was trending for weeks.” I bite my lip, realizing I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.
“‘Jack Midnight’s Monaco Meltdown’ was my personal favorite headline.” He tries for a smile but it doesn’t quite land. “Total bullshit, but it got clicks.”
“Wrong?” I lean forward on my elbows. “I mean, the video looked pretty damning. Not that I’m judging you or anything.”
“Iwasn’tdoing drugs.” He shifts on the barstool. “My old teammate, Luca, called me panicking. His little sister was at this party, completely in over her head with some sketchy older guys. They were feeding her drugs and… well… he was out of the country and asked me to get her out. I wasn’t even supposed to be there. I literally showed up, found her, and convinced her to leave.”
“Seriously?” My mouth drops open. “So no cocaine? No crazy party?”
“Well, I won’t deny that I’ve been to some crazy parties,” he says with a slight grin. “I’m not a saint. But not anytime recently, and definitely not that one. Plus I’veneverdone hard drugs. As much as I enjoy a good time, that shit doesn’t really work when you need to be in top physical shape for racing. My body is my career, so I can’t afford to fuck it up.”
“So you really were just there to help someone?” I ask.
“Yeah. The timing and angle of the video made it look bad. Made it look like I was there partying with everyone else when I wasn’t.”
“Why not say that publicly? Clear your name?” I’m baffled. Who wouldn’t want to fix something like this immediately?
“Eh, I don’t really give a shit about my reputation anyway.” He shrugs, but there’s definite tension in his shoulders that contradicts his casual words. “It was already pretty trash to begin with. What’s one more scandal on the pile? And Sofia’s only eighteen. If I said anything publicly, people would figure out who she was within hours, start harassing her online. It’s not worth destroying her life just to save my image.”
I blink at him, recalibrating everything I thought I knew about Jack Midnight. The player image, the careless party boy reputation, suddenly doesn’t fit. “That’s… actually really selfless of you, Jack.”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” he says with a laugh.
