Pointing I tell Justin, “Look!”

Simone and Sarah are running while laughing hysterically from the airport’s store toward the gates, and they don’t see us.

We stop walking, our suitcases frozen and waiting for our command. “They’re in a good mood,” he mutters before glancing to me. “You going to call out to them?”

“Nah. Let’s follow ‘em.”

“It’s a big unfortunate coincidence they’re on the same flight to Atlanta,” he grumbles. “I should have booked the later one.”

“Nice to see them laughing after the way we left them last night,” I chuckle, their laughter infectious.

“Wait – what gate are we at?” Justin asks as they turn before we expect them to.

“A-14.”

“That’s A-7. Look.”

“What the hell?” I mutter as I read the sign he jerked his chin at. We pick up speed as Simone hands her pass to a Delta employee who’s not impressed by anything today. Sarah laughs harder at something Simone says and they walk quickly into the tunnel to catch a flight that’s not ours.

Justin and I stop in front of the gate and read the sign: Detroit.

My eyes dart back to the tunnel where I can see them for a second longer. Then they vanish.

“Hang on,” I tell my brother. Pulling my phone out I almost dial Simone but my thumb just hovers.

Watching me, he reminds me in a low voice, “You haven’t called her today.”

“Nope. Didn’t want to.” I meet his eyes. He nods like he’s okay with that.

Frowning, I dial her record company’s point man. He’ll know what’s going on. When he answers I launch right in. “Mark, Jason. Simone’s going back to Detroit?”

He sounds like he’s on his computer and multi-tasking. “Yes, had me change her flight. She didn’t tell you?”

“We’re supposed to be listening to choirs this weekend. I’ve made the appointments, and one is at a church that wouldn’t let us have a private audience. It’s our only shot with them, to be there on Sundays during Mass.”

“That’s okay. Go check ‘em out. Simone said she trusts you. And so do I. I’ve gotta let you go, Jason. I have Drake on his way in and I need to get his numbers together. My assistant ate bad shrimp last night.”

“Oh that sucks. I’m sorry. Tell him I said hello.”

“You know Drake?”

“Tell him, ‘Miami with Jason and Justin Cocker,’ then watch his reaction.”

Mark chuckles, “Will do.”

I hang up and face my brother. “She ditched me.”

“Good,” he mutters. “Let’s go to our gate.”

“No, Justin, the song! She ditched the song. I’m supposed to do it on my own.”

“Which you can do in your fucking sleep. Come on.”

As he starts to walk, I grab his arm. “Of course I can, but that spoiled brat is doing this to get at me.” I jam a finger in my hand. “She doesn’t understand I don’t play games like this.”

“Since when?” he smirks.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Bernie Lancaster,” he reminds me, leaning in like I should remember that.

“For the millionth time I loved Bernie. And I didn’t play games with her. I was open and –”

“— you got your dick kicked into your throat for it. Over and over.” His eyes grow somber as he adds, “And you almost lost everything for her. Remember the intervention?”

Our brothers rallied around me when Justin told them I’d gone deeply into cocaine during that love affair. Bernie and I were head over heels for each other. The only problem was the gorgeous model loved white powder more than me, and she was an addict. I’m luckily not cursed with that gene. I can stop. And I did. She didn’t, and turned to hooking in order to fund her sickness. I stuck around for as long as I could hack it, to protect her. I finally gave up.

I’ve only seen her once since then. She’d gotten herself into a worse situation that landed her in the hospital, then thankfully jail where she could think and maybe start over. Don’t know where she is now and I don’t want to know. A man can only take so much.

And my brother can take less.

“Of course I remember it. This isn’t that. I’m not in love with Simone. And I don’t play games. Didn’t then. Don’t now. Everything I did back then was fucked up but it was me trying my best to be with her.”

“And you don’t want to be with Simone?”

“No.”

“You didn’t make that clear last night.”

“Yes, I did.”

He scans me and leans back on an exhale. “So, what are you gonna do?”

“I’m dropping the song.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re what?”

“I’m done. She can have someone else finish it. All of it. Fuck it. Not just the song, the whole album.”

“It’s your album! Your name has to be on it, Jason!”

“If it is, fine. If it isn’t, I don’t give a shit anymore. I’m over it. We’re done. I’ll never work with her again.”

As the gate numbers pass us we’re silent. When we get to ours Justin asks me, “What about Mark and the label? How’s this gonna look?”

I snort, “Are you kidding? My reputation can weather this blow. You don’t listen to music so you may not know this, but I’ve got friends in high places.”

He smirks at me. “Jason, I just give you shit, but I’ve listened to every single one of the albums you produced.”

Thunderstruck I stare at him, lips parted. A profound love for him overwhelms me and I drop the suitcase to give him a bear hug. He laughs and hugs me back before pushing me off. “Okay. Enough.”

I smack his chest with the back of my hand and shake my head. “Thanks man.”

“I wasn’t going to ever tell you,” he admits, a devilish spark in his eye.

I give him a crooked grin. “I’m glad you did.”

We start for Delta’s flight to Atlanta and bypass all the people flying in Coach. As the attendant takes our phones and scans our emailed passes, I grin to Justin, “Now if you could convince Jett to listen to them.”

“He’d sooner sell his Harley than do that.”

Taking the phone from the attendant, I chuckle, “So true. Fucking asshole.” To the lady, I smile, “Sorry. We’re just talking about our brother. He’s a badass. So I can call him bad names.”

She smiles but her eyes have a question behind them. “What happened to you two?”

I frown, not sure of what she means at first. Then it dawns on me and I point to my face. “Oh, the bruises?!” I jog my thumb at Justin and tell her, “He said I was too good looking.”

Justin cracks up, shaking his head. “And he was.” He winks at the lady.

We head into the tunnel for our cushy seats and free booze.

The Cocker family comes from old money and we always fly First Class. There was one period of time that was nearly my undoing. It was when I was going through that shit with Bernie and I almost lost my shirt to cocaine in an effort to keep up with her, and give her what she really wanted. I was broke. Among other luxuries I lost was First Class. I had to take Coach for the first time, and often. I hated it, which was a good thing. It made me work harder to never have to be cramped like that again. The thing about money is, if you don’t have enough you’ve gotta make more until you do.

It’s not about spending less, it’s about making more. There are tons of ways to do it in this modern world, making a living off your skills using the Internet. That’s what I did. When my reputation went up Bernie’s nose in the shape of white powder, I struggled to find ways to get back on track.

I’d make an extra fifty here, an extra hundred there. It adds up. Producing artists who didn’t have more in their budget kept me moving forward. It turned out some of them were connected to more established artists and labels. My discounted rate led to higher-income opportunities I couldn’t have predicted.

I did my best and after a while word spread.

Some top-name artists I’d worked with in the past heard I’d quit the partying life and they hired me again, gave me another chance.

I will never be that fucking broke again. But I’m grateful I fell to the ground so I could learn how to get up.

Samuel Goldwyn said, “The harder I work the luckier I get.”

Truth. Truth. And more truth.

As the MD-90 begins to lift in the air, I close my eyes and press my head into the cushion until we level off.

Feeling Justin’s stare, I glance to my right. “What?”

“You still do that. You’ve been closing your eyes on takeoff since you were a kid. It’s adorable.”

“Fuck you,” I smirk, glancing to my phone.

“She can’t call. Stop staring at it.”

“I’m not staring at it,” I lie, sliding it beside my leg.

“Which girl are you looking for in that thing?”

I meet his look, my voice deepening. “You know which one.”

His crooked grin appears and he gives a low whistle. “You are so fucked.” Sipping Jack Daniels over ice, he goes back to the window. “See those clouds? Your heart’s always been right there. I wasn’t born with that.”

“What’d you mean when you said I didn’t make it—”

“—clear last night? I meant Sarah thinks you still want Simone. And like I said, you’re fucked. Because those two are a pair, almost as much as we are. And you know nobody’s breaking us up.”

I stare at him and he nods a little. His eyes have an uncharacteristic weight to them. “Sarah’s not the type to fuck over her best friend to be with you.”

“I wouldn’t want her to,” I mutter, giving him a dirty look. “Come on.”

“Well, Simone would. You know it’s true. But Sarah wouldn’t do that, and that’s what you’ll be asking her to do if you pursue her.”

“You told me to pursue her!”

“I did,” he nods. “Before they left for Detroit. Because I dislike Simone enough not to give a shit if her precious ego gets bruised. But now, it’s smarter to just let them both go.”

After he turns back to the window, sipping his drink, I stare at the back of the seat in front of me, the small screen dark. I can see my reflection warped in it, and the discoloration plus cuts around my nose and lip.

My mind travels back to Sarah in my arms when I caught her, how she looked up at me like I was a miracle.

Then further back to when she leaned over me to buzz that button and force Simone to stop singing. Her smell and the electricity coming off her body made me angry because I couldn’t understand the reason I wanted to hold her so badly.

That crazy kiss comes back to me, too. How I pressed my mouth harder against hers when I should have pulled away.

And holding her hand backstage. I knew she hadn’t meant to grab mine, and I could have let go, but I didn’t want to. It felt right to be beside her. Which is why I ran.

Now, what am I doing?

I know that Justin wants me to avoid an improbable and dramatic situation.

The idea of never seeing Sarah again makes me feel ill.

When I watched them get on that plane I was confused and it hadn’t hit me. Then realizing that Simone was bailing on the song pissed me off. But now that I’m stuck with the reality, it’s Sarah I’m going to miss. Barking at her during recording was part of the fun. She could hold her own and I didn’t have to sugarcoat anything. Whatever I was feeling, it was right out there and she could handle it.

Just like she could handle that bar brawl. She jumped on that guy to help me out, slapping his head and shouting at him like a wild thing. She was protective of me, which is insanity since she’s so fucking tiny.

Not many women would do what she did.

What the fuck have I been doing all these months?

How did I not see her?

“Can I get you something to drink?” the flight attendant asks me.

“No. Do we have wi-fi on this flight?”

With apology in her eyes the attendant shakes her head. “We normally do, but we’re having technical difficulties. Did you want something to drink?”

“Nah. Thanks.”

Justin’s voice interrupts my disappointment. “Take that as a sign.” Off my look, he smirks. “You were going to text Sarah.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he mutters, turning away. “I know you better than you know yourself. Just let it play out. You’ll know what to do when the time comes.”