Chapter 9
JAKE
As I got off the daybed and walked towards Sammie to give her the piece of paper with our movie quote, I wondered what the fuck was wrong with me.
Halle made a stupid statement about me then all of a sudden, my chest tightened. It was like something she said triggered me.
It wasn’t the romcom stuff. Like I’d said, I used to like them. I found them calming. It was reassuring to know there’d always be a happy ending.
And it wasn’t hard for me to remember the scene in Notting Hill because I instantly related to Julia Roberts’s character. I’d lost count of the number of times I just wanted someone to accept me for being me.
Not Jake the rockstar. The celebrity. The Hollywood bad boy. Just the guy from a small town in Kansas who enjoyed having a good time with his friends, like most people.
It sounded corny, but watching that film made me feel seen. Like I wasn’t alone. That one day I’d find my person. But when reality hit and my heart got crushed, there was no way I could keep watching them.
That was one of the reasons I’d stopped writing songs too. What was the point of writing about love when you realised happy endings didn’t really exist?
A lot of writers channelled heartbreak into their music. But for me, even though getting the words onto the page was cathartic, when I tried to sing them, the pain was too much.
And so I stopped. Then when… when something fucking awful happened, I knew there was no way I could. Soon a few months turned into years. I couldn’t blame my label for dropping me.
Which is why Halle’s comment about me being a musician was wrong. She’d used the wrong tense.
I wasn’t a musician. I used to be one. All I was now was a washed-up has-been. And that was exactly why her third observation was also incorrect. I sure as shit didn’t love myself right now. Most days I could barely stomach looking at my own reflection.
My cell vibrated in my pocket.
I didn’t even need to look to know that it was Wilma, chasing again for more photos and content.
Yep. My life sucked.
‘Here you go.’ I handed Sammie our quote.
‘Thanks!’ she said as she unfolded the paper. ‘Oooh, nice one! Pick a quote from the hat before I put your one in.’
‘What did we get?’ Halle appeared next to me as I rummaged around the hat then plucked out a piece of folded paper.
‘Here.’ I handed it to Halle. ‘You do the honours.’
She unravelled the paper excitedly, but when she opened it, her face fell.
‘No way.’ She grimaced. ‘Can I choose another one?’
‘Sorry!’ Sammie replied. ‘Only one pick per person and most of the others have already been allocated.’
‘But it’s not even romantic!’ Halle protested.
‘Why? What is it?’ Sammie said.
‘It can’t be that bad.’ I tried to steal a look.
‘No, it’s worse than bad. It’s that scene from When Harry Met Sally…’