17. Not without thorns
NOT WITHOUT THORNS
S pring stood near the curb with her phone pressed to her ear, one hand on her hip, after escaping the dramatic scene she hadn’t auditioned for.
It had continued after Mack had showered and returned to the room, but she’d escaped to deal with her broken-down car.
She needed a rental for the rest of her stay.
The rental company had given her the run around, and she’d finally gotten through to someone who was remotely interested in helping her.
“Yes,” she said into the phone, already tired. “The car won’t start. I’m on – yeah, that’s right. Thank you.” She ended the call and exhaled slowly, reluctantly making her way back to Preston’s side in the kitchen entrance.
Preston’s mother’s voice carried through the house – tight, clipped, sharp enough to make the air feel brittle. “So you just didn’t come home?”
Mack’s easy laugh followed. “I’m a grown ass man, Talia. I went where the night took me.”
“And where the night took you is always somebody else’s problem. I fucking hate you,” Talia snapped.
Mack scoffed and said, “Well, last I checked, you’re not being held hostage – you’re a volunteer at worst. Feel free to leave anytime this gets too bumpy for you, baby.”
“So let me get this straight,” she said. “You don’t come home. You don’t answer your phone. And you stroll in smelling like tequila and cheap perfume? And I’m supposed to do what, be Boo-Boo the Fool?”
Mack leaned against the counter, pouring himself a drink like he was hosting the argument. “I smell like success and tequila. Don’t hate the blend.”
“This is not a joke,” she snapped.
Mack took a sip. “Everything’s a joke if you live long enough.”
Spring glanced towards Preston. He looked exhausted already.
“First of all, I had meetings,” Mack continued. “Real ones. The kind that don’t end at eight.”
Talia scoffed. “You must forget I’m in this industry, too?”
“Oh, here we go. Go ahead, get it out, Talia, tell the world, put on a show.”
And put on a show she did. “You damn right I will. I was a star, baby! I had men lining up for me, much better than this bullshit.” She waved her hands in his direction.
“Then where the hell are they, Talia? I mean, you still sexy as all get out. Why do you think they aren’t lining up?”
“Cause I’m dealing with your trifling ass.”
Mack laughed her off. “Nothing to do with all them plates on the ground you broke, or these cuts on my arm? Or that butcher knife you were chasing me with?”
“That’s cause you playing in my face.”
“I had meetings, goddamnit!”
“You don’t have meetings at two in the morning, Mack,” Talia fired back. “You have excuses.”
Mack smiled wide. “Excuses are what people call plans they don’t understand.”
Preston sighed. “Can we not do this right now?”
Neither of them heard him.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice something’s going on with the money,” his mother added, folding her arms. “Cards declining all over town lately.”
Mack froze, just a half beat too long, then laughed. “Now, wait a minute. Don’t drag my AmEx into this. That’s just white folk being dramatic.”
Preston blinked. “Actually… mine declined today, too.”
There was a silence that lingered in the air. Spring’s head tilted slightly as she watched Mack process Preston’s words. Finally, he turned slowly. “See? Inflation. Bad technology. Who knows. It’s global. The point is; White folks.”
His mother’s eyes narrowed. “Or somebody’s moving money around without saying a word.”
Mack set his glass down carefully. “You accusing me of something, Talia?”
“I’m accusing you of being a little too comfortable with our accounts when you shouldn’t be.”
He grinned. “Comfort is my brand. Besides you wasn’t saying that when I was pushing the credit limit up enough for you to have that Louis Voutton birthday bash.”
“You don’t have a brand,” she shot back. “You have access.”
“Ouch,” Mack said, placing a hand over his chest. “And here I thought I was family.”
Preston rubbed his face. “Please don’t say that.”
Mack laughed. “Relax, Superstar. I’m joking. Mostly.”
Spring stayed quiet, cataloging everything: the way Mack deflected, Talia breathing hard, Preston shrinking between them like a kid again. And Mack’s resolve. Watching him move was like trying to nail jello to a cutting board.
“You know what your problem is?” Mack said, turning to Talia now. “You worry too much. You raised a superstar. Let the ecosystem breathe a little.”
She scoffed. “That ecosystem is eating my son alive.”
Mack shrugged. “Welcome to the jungle, that’s how the world works.”
Spring finally spoke. “Funny. Jungle animals usually don’t wear $3,000 suits.”
Mack looked at her closely, coldly, then smiled. “I forget how sharp you are youngster. That’s a dangerous trait – in a good way.”
She smiled back, polite and empty. “So I’ve been told.”
As the argument cooled into sharp silence, Mack leaned back against the counter, unbothered. “Man, enough of this bullshit—who want a drank? Hell, y’all arguing like this house ain’t full of ghosts already,” he said lightly.
No one laughed, and Spring realized something important: Mack didn’t mind chaos. He thrived in it. Spring stiffened slightly.
Mack took a sip, eyes gleaming. “The kind of ghosts that should’ve dropped an album six months ago. Maybe that’s the real problem.”
Preston’s expression hardened. “Leave me out of it.”
“Pressy, Mack might be an ass… but he’s not wrong.” Talia chimed in.
“I’m just saying, Superstar… perception matters.” Mack added.
Silence stretched again.
Spring stayed still, cataloging everything – the posture, the power dynamics.
Then her phone rang. Unknown number .
She answered out of reflex. “Hello?”
“Hi, Spring, it’s Marcia Hastings.”
Her stomach dropped.
She stepped a few feet away, instinctively creating space. “Yes, hi,” Spring said evenly.
“Spring, first let me say how deeply sorry we are for your loss.”
Spring didn’t respond. She let the silence fill the air.
“We’ve been reviewing the trajectory of your current project,” Marcia continued, “and while we love the creative direction, there’s a larger cultural moment unfolding.”
“Cultural moment? What exactly does that mean?” Spring asked, dread sinking in.
“It means,” Marcia said carefully, “you’re uniquely positioned to document the life of Cameron Ellison. Your history with him. Your access. Your perspective. We believe there’s a story there.”
Spring stared at the wall. “I just buried him yesterday, Marcia.”
There was a slight pause. “Yes,” Marcia said gently. “And believe me, we understand, which is why we feel that the proximity and the rawness of this time is precisely what makes this important.”
Another voice joined in – measured, executive. “Spring, this is Darton Benz from Universal Studios. The audience is already searching for anything they can find on Mr. Ellison. His streams are up four hundred percent. There’s media saturation. If we move quickly, this becomes definitive.”
Spring inhaled slowly. “So you want to pivot.”
Darton responded. “We want to give you the opportunity to tell Cameron’s story your way?—”
“Out of the question,” she snapped.
There was another pause. “We’re saying,” Marcia corrected, “that we can’t responsibly move forward with the current slate at the same level of investment. Not when this opportunity exists.”
“Opportunity? I’m sorry, there’s nothing opportune about the loss of my cousin,” Spring fired back.
“You’re right, that came out wrong, and I’m sorry. But we wanted you to know, we’re prepared to expand the budget for this film,” Marcia said. “Priority distribution. Awards positioning. Full campaign support. This would be significant.”
Spring’s expression hardened. She took a deep breath, sadness evident in her words. “He’s not content,” she said quietly.
“No,” Marcia replied. “He’s history. And history deserves documentation.”
The line went quiet again.
“We understand this is delicate,” Marcia added. “Take some time. Think about our offer. We’ll pause development on the existing project until we hear from you.”
Spring closed her eyes, realization settling in. They weren’t asking her to tell the story, they were asking to monetize it. It’s true, the voice on the other end was polite, even professional. But at the end of the day, it was about profit, which gutted her at her core.
They weren’t in love with the direction anymore. The words landed softly but sank deep.
“Of course,” Spring said evenly. “I understand.”
She hung up and stood there a moment, phone still in her hand, the hum of the street filling the space.
Mack appeared beside her, drink in hand. He paused and said, “Uh oh.”
He put the glass on a side table and went to get the bottle and another glass. He poured a stiff shot into the glass and handed it to Spring. She took the shot without hesitation. Mack poured another.
“Thanks. Why’d you say that just now?”
“’Cause I know that face.”
“What face?”
“The face folk make when they just heard some bullshit.”
She studied him for half a second. She took the second shot and decided not to lie. “I just got a call from the board of my company. They’re putting the grant for my next project on hold.”
“And that’s the bullshit right there,” he said, surprisingly gentle. “But don’t trip, it’s not a loss.”
She raised an eyebrow.
He nodded toward the house. “You know how many great projects get reshaped before they hit? We mixed Preston’s second album twelve times, we were six months behind in production, and it won six Grammies.
The point I’m making is, the great projects – the ones that last – usually go through something like this.
Hell, delayed ain’t never meant denied, it just means not yet. ”
She didn’t respond right away. She put the glass out and he poured her another shot. This time she sipped.
“That board didn’t say no,” he continued. “They said they want you sharper. That’s respect, whether they know it or not.”
“They want me to pivot to a documentary on Cameron.”
Mack nodded and rubbed his chin, then took a shot and said, “Remember that jungle I was talkin about earlier? That’s the parasite. Doesn’t matter if you fresh in the ground, the maggots are gonna come. Well, I’m proud of you for not saying go fuck yourselves. All money ain’t good money.”
Spring felt the words settle. Not because they were profound, but because they weren’t slick. Just honest.
“But the good thing for you is, they still want you. Most people don’t get told to take their time,” he added. “They get told to take a hike.”
She exhaled slowly. “That’s one way to look at it.”
He gave her a small smile, almost appearing human. “You’ll figure it out. Since I’ve known ya, you seem like someone who always does.”
Spring nodded, surprised despite herself. For just a moment – one quiet, inconvenient moment – she wondered if she’d misread him.
Then, from inside the house, Talia called his name again, sharp, commanding.
The spell broke.
Preston came outside. “Mack, Mom’s ready for round two. I’m gonna take Spring home. Try not to get the cops called out here again.”
Mack took a shot of his tequila and put the glass down. “Alright, Let me go tend to this bullshit. Y’all kids be safe out there.”
She started to walk to the car with Preston, already compartmentalizing. Some men said the right thing at the right time. And some storms didn’t announce themselves until you were already standing in the rain.