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Not long after we moved into our apartment, I got a Facebook message from a fake Kailey account. The person messaging said they knew who killed Kailey. Had proof and wanted justice for her. They tried to lure me, saying I’d only get information if I met them alone and didn’t tell anyone.
I wasn’t stupid enough for that. And though they were figuring I’d tell Jesse and the club, setting up their trap, Jesse and his club still outsmarted them. That was the beginning of the end of the last of the Wyld Jackals.
Six Months Later
“No. You’re shitting me,” I exclaimed.
“Debuted at number four, baby,” Chase said through the phone.
My song Hostage, performed by AbstractED, entered the charts at number four. I’d heard it on the radio three times today. The third time, the residents at the senior’s home were dancing to it, because they knew I wrote it. Well, Jer and Chase helped with the music part, but the lyrics were all mine. And I was getting better at figuring out how to put music to words. I’ve learned a lot in a short time working with them.
Number four. Talk about complete shock. I had three songs on AbstractED’s album. The two they used to practice with from my old demo tape, but the one that debuted at number four was the song I wrote when I went to Lunenburg to spread Aunt Francie’s ashes. I wrote it for AbstractED, knowing their ska/reggae style. They loved it at bare bones value, but Chase and Jeremy worked with me on polishing it so the three of us had writing credits for it. Still, it was my song. My song about the man I loved taking my broken heart and filling it with joy, hope, strength. How I’d pay the ransom and still beg him to keep it forever.
“So, in about a month, we’re heading out on our own tour,” Chase said. “Medium-sized venues. Good exposure in medium-sized and larger cities. Would love you to come along, work on the road with us.”
“Um… I…”
“Bring Jesse. That’s totally cool,” Chase offered. “We’ve got two buses so you two’ll have your own room on one. We’re doing twenty shows across four states. We finish off in LA and we’ve rented a house for the month after that to record our next album. Got a room in that house for you and Jesse so we can work together on more songs. We’d also love it if you’d sing backup on a couple songs on the next record.”
“Chase…”
“Think about it.”
“You know I don’t like performing.”
“You don’t have to perform them live, Gianna. Just for the album. Then you can hear your songs on the radio with your voice in them, too. Right?”
“Oh boy.” I knew telling him about my childhood dream would probably bite me in the backside. “I don’t know…”
“Think about it. Talk to your man.”
“You mean get my man to convince me to do it, don’t you?”
He laughed. He already figured out that Jesse gave me confidence whenever I couldn’t find mine.
“I’ll think about it,” I whispered. “I have a job, and-”
“Those residuals that’re gonna kick in for you, babe? You’re not gonna need a nine to five,” Chase said. “Who knows? Maybe not ever again.”
I bit my lip. My job had been flexible, letting me take a couple weeks off to go to LA. A couple long weekends where Chase and Jeremy came here to work some more with me. I didn’t need to work, but I also appreciated my bosses and didn’t want to screw them over. But, I had money in the bank. It was mostly invested and growing for me, and I didn’t advertise it. Not to mention Jesse still paid for pretty much everything for us, hardly ever letting me pull out my ATM card.
Jesse was pretty impressed with how well my investments were doing. Apparently I had a knack for it. Who knew the bunny with the hair was a dab hand at making money grow?
“I’ll think about it,” I repeated.
“Congrats again, Gianna.”
“Congratulations to you too, Chase. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”
“Thank you so much for the songs,” he said with a laugh. “Call me in a couple days?”
“Will do.”
We got off the phone and I waited for Jesse to come home from work.
It was a monumental day for a lot of reasons. Six months ago yesterday, he told me to give things six months here. That if I wasn’t happy in Aberdeen, he’d go nomad. And I’d kept my word. I’d put in an honest effort here. And honestly, though things might never be perfect, though I still had my hangups that might haunt me forever, they were okay.
The girls in the club were my friends. Nobody made snide remarks about my past anymore. And the guys I’d had trysts with in the past no longer looked at me like I was about to blow up their life at any second.
