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Peggy chuckles. "I'm just trying to help the girl." She winks at me.
"How about it? Want me to put in a good word for ya?" Peggy asks.
I look between the two women who are like family—always looking out for me and Seth.
"As long as I can still work here." I turn to Dottie, whose broad smile tells me everything I need to know.
"You come back tomorrow at eight in the morning,” Dottie says with a twinkle in her eye and a hint of excitement. I say my goodbyes and leave the shop. I exchange heartfelt goodbyes with her and the rest of the team before making my way out. Stepping out of the shop, I am greeted by the leaves of the trees, painting the streets with hues of yellow and orange.
I settle into the driver's seat of my car and turn the key. The engine roars to life, and as I steer out of the side street, I turn on my favorite song, "I'm No Good" by Amy Winehouse. The music fills the car, each note resonating within me, and I can't help but tap my fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm.
As I pull my car into the driveway, I can't help but notice how peaceful the neighborhood is. It is as if time stands still in this small town, and the world beyond it doesn't exist.
I turn off the engine and step out of the car, taking a deep breath of fresh air. The leaves beneath my feet made a soft, crunching sound with each step. As I approach the door, I carefully insert the key into the lock and gently twist it. With a creak, the door opens, and I walk inside. I kick off my shoes and make my way further into the house.
The silence inside is deafening, and it only highlights that my brother is not here with me. We were always close, and his absence left a void that can’t be filled. I need to do something to fill the emptiness before my mind takes on a life of its own. I look over at my guitar, which sits in the corner of the room, gathering dust. It has been a while since I have played, but it is time to pick it up again.
With a deep breath, I grab the guitar and start strumming. My fingers find the chords and I start singing "Hear You Me" by Jimmy Eat World. As I sing, I close my eyes and let the music take me away. The lyrics flow effortlessly from my lips, and I feel the song's emotion take over. It is as if I am singing directly to Seth, letting him know how much I miss him. The more I play and sing, the more I feel the weight of my sadness lift. The music fills the room, and I know that Seth can hear me even though he is no longer here.
When the song ends, I open my eyes and smile, tears falling.
Even though he is no longer physically here, music will always bring us together. Until then, I'll keep holding on to the memories we've made and looking forward to the day we'll be reunited.
Today has been a good day… until it isn’t.
TWENTY-THREE
PRESENT
MAVERICK
"Maverick, you can't just leave in the middle of a shoot!" my agent barks over the phone. "You are under contract."
I sigh. "Sam, it's fine."
Samantha—Sam—has been my agent since I was eighteen. The woman is tiny as hell, but she’s savage, ready to rip your balls off, but will fight with you through a shit storm. I know she will always have my back even though she’s pissed at me right now.
"Seriously, Mav?" she hisses through the phone. "Jake is pissed off. The shit you just pulled set production back by a month!"
Jake, with whom I have collaborated on multiple projects, is the director of the TV series I've been shooting for the past few months. I am confident that this won't be an issue.
There is no reason for her to have her panties in a bunch.
"I hardly doubt he was pissed, Sam. If he was, he would've called me. Besides, I told him ahead of time I had to come home."
"Home?"
"Yeah, I needed to take some time off." The constant pressure of Hollywood life had finally taken its toll on me, and I knew I needed to step back and take a breather. The constant scrutiny and pressure to maintain an image that aligned with my contract, which unfortunately involved Skylar, had become too much to bear. Fortunately, my interactions with Skylar were limited to promos and interviews. The paparazzi and media were always lurking around, eager to catch a glimpse of any off-screen drama. Maintaining a level head was a constant battle, and not letting the pressure get to me.
And I miss my Tinkerbelle.
Heavy silence grows over the phone.
“Okay.” Sam sighs but I can sense the frustration in her tone. “How long will you need?”
“I don’t know, a few weeks?”
“Listen to me, Mav. Do you realize that you are one of the top young male actors in the industry right now? And let’s not forget that you’re up for an Oscar for best male actor in a leading role, and you’re staring in your own television series.”
