Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
The next morning, egg yolk–yellow sun spilled across Jamie’s weary eyes. After leaving Brinton last night, he had stayed up late sketching lyric ideas about her—her laugh, her smile—and had neglected to set his alarm.
It was Monday, and he was due to finish the record on Friday. He would play Yeehaw Fest that Saturday, swiftly followed by the official album launch the following Friday. Brinton’s article was due to come out that same day, but she’d be back in New York by then.
That meant she was leaving Iris in seven days. He already mourned this. Almost as much as when his lips left her smooth skin last night.
But right now, he needed to get out of bed and into the studio, where his father undoubtedly waited to chew him out for being late. Again. But at least now, Jamie knew he was closer to the finish line.
He didn’t check his phone, despite it vibrating like a snake pit, so he could quickly shower and change into a gray T-shirt and dark-wash jeans.
Hair still sopping wet, he hopped in his truck and carved down the tree-lined dirt road.
By the time he arrived at the compound, he was completely winded and, if he were honest, nauseous from the adrenaline spike.
Not even the hair of the dog could stop the volcanic eruption in his gut.
Shouldering open the studio door, he was surprised to find it empty. His phone buzzed three more times. Now he was straight-up afraid to check it.
Where the hell is everyone?
The last resort was his father’s office.
Outside the shuttered double doors, Jamie mentally prepared for an ambush. His father’s voice was muffled, and he couldn’t make out the details, but it didn’t matter. Whatever it was, it was already a done deal.
Jamie took a deep breath and rapped on the door.
“Come in,” Jamie Sr. said.
Tex and Sammi sat opposite Jamie Sr. at his antique cherrywood desk.
“You look like hell,” Jamie Sr. said lightly. He gave his son an up-down, then turned back to the stack of papers in his hands.
“Sorry I’m late, Daddy,” Jamie told his father as he approached. “Won’t happen again.”
Jamie Sr. didn’t look up. “Don’t write checks your ass can’t cash.”
“Ready for the big day?” Tex chirped, attempting to cut through the tension with a butter knife. Jamie did a double take; Tex had traded his typical dress shirt and slacks for a yellow floral Hawaiian shirt and red swim trunks.
“Yeah, sure,” Jamie said, eyeing Sammi, a question in his voice. Baby blue bikini strings poked through her white, off-the-shoulder sundress.
“Oh my stars. You forgot, didn’t you?” she asked. Sammi shook her head, a mix of amusement and sympathy on her face. It wasn’t the first time someone had given Jamie that look. But today, it scared the hell out of him.
“No, I didn’t forget. But, you know, jog my memory. A lot’s happening this week,” Jamie answered. He whipped his ring around his pinky so fast there was a chance that he’d sever it.
“C’mon, now, son. It’s your birthday,” Tex exclaimed, rising from his seat. He wrapped Jamie into a bear hug, slapping his back three times. “And many more to you, you hear?”
A moment later, Sammi was at Jamie’s side. “Happy thirty-first. May your good fortune be as enduring as your stubbornness.” She smiled and quickly pecked him on the cheek.
Ain’t that some shit?
Jamie pulled his buzzing phone from his pocket and found dozens of missed calls and happy birthday texts from what looked like his entire contacts list. Forgetting his birthday was a hell of a milestone.
Or, his brain had finally given out after months of toiling for an album he wanted nothing to do with.
“Yeah, I guess it slipped my mind. That would explain why the studio is empty today.”
“We figured you’d want the day off,” Tex exclaimed. “And besides, you gotta get ready for the surprise party.”
“Well, there goes the surprise,” Sammi trilled, scooping her pastel blue purse from the chair. “Tex and I set everything up. I told the gang of hooligans you call friends to turn up at noon.”
That was an hour from now.
“Oh, and figured I should invite Brinton?” Sammi asked. “I’m sure she’d like to come.”
Jamie smothered a grin, hoping to downplay the internal fireworks at her name. He appreciated his team, but he didn’t want to broadcast the thing that made him happiest these days. He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
“You think it’s a good idea to invite a journalist who’s got an angle in mind to your birthday party?” Jamie Sr. asked, drawing everyone’s eyes like a magnet. “She’s probably champing at the bit.”
“Hell’s bells, she’s not like that,” Jamie barked.
His father quietly sidestepped the apparent insolence. For now.
Sammi eyed Jamie apprehensively but didn’t miss his silent SOS.
“Yeah, she’s been getting on great with everyone,” she added. “I’ve been talking with her about the article, and it sounds like she and Jamie have a good flow.” Her voice lifted. “And it’s gonna be fun. You remember fun, right?”
Jamie Sr. grunted, flipping another page. “I remember we’re days out from what will be his biggest album yet.”
“If Sammi says we can trust her, I see no problem with it,” Tex said. “All press is good press, ain’t that right?”
“I’ll vouch for her,” Sammi said. Jamie cast her a grateful glance, and she nodded in solidarity.
“She should come,” Jamie said, a little louder. His father eyed him like he was a talking dog on a tricycle.
“Great, I’ll text her,” Sammi said, already tapping on her phone.
Tex crashed his hands together like cymbals. “I can’t wait to get out on the jet skis.”
“And I can’t wait to say I told you so when you wipe out,” Sammi cracked.
Tex hooked his stout arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m taking you down with me.”
Sammi cackled as they ambled through the double doors.
Jamie shoved his hands in his pockets, ready to be anywhere but there. “All right, well, I guess I’ll see you later.”
Jamie Sr. shuffled his papers, then set them down. “One more thing. Anything you say, she’s gonna use it if it’ll serve her story.”
Unbeknownst to him, that was the whole damn point.
“I know.”
“Remember, she’s not one of us.”
That stopped Jamie cold. “Are you saying that because she’s Black?” he asked, rage percolating despite keeping his tone even. “For goodness’ sake—”
Jamie Sr. scoffed. “Boy, don’t insult me. She’s not one of us because she’s looking for a weakness to exploit. Something that’ll look good on a cover and sell copies.”
“You don’t know her like I do,” Jamie said quietly, his nerves in a cage fight with his racing heart.
Jamie’s father leaned back, a dark smile on his face. “I know you signed a contract.” He rose from behind the desk and crossed to his son. “So, when you see Kendall, who I invited, take some photos together. It’ll be great for the album.”
Jamie clenched his fist as his father outstretched his hand. He shook it anyway.
His father turned back toward his desk, but not before twisting the knife a little deeper between Jamie’s ribs. “Oh, and happy birthday, son.”