“Fuck,” I mutter, raking my hair, and tugging the baseball hat back into place.

Running out the door I scan for their car and find it pulling out of the parking lot, seconds away from joining traffic on the busy street.

I almost shout Sarah, but catch myself in time.

“SIMONE!”

What the fuck are you doing, Jason?

Have you lost your mind?

Apparently I have, because I yell it again as loudly as if my life depends on them hearing me.

The car stops and I run over to the passenger side.

Simone rolls down the window and I lean in to say, “I’m sorry. Come over to my loft later on.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’d do that!” she snaps.

“I mean both of you. A celebration of the album being complete. Let’s bury the hatchet and start over from a professional place. I’ll invite Justin, my brother Jake and his wife Drew. You can invite anyone you want.”

Simone’s taken aback, but she’s thinking about it. I glance to Sarah and see almond eyes intently watching me. She’s trying to figure out what I’m doing. She’s had that expression a lot today.

This is a disastrous idea.

Nothing but chaos can come of it.

I know that deep down.

But I’m not about to let Sarah vanish forever. I’m desperate. And fucked, just like Justin said.

“Come on,” I urge her, with my best smile. “Let’s not end things like this.”

Simone mutters, “You better buy some really expensive booze.”

There go her true colors again. Sure, I’ll come Jason, if you pamper me and make it worth my time. How did I not see through that shit for four whole months. I blame my cock. It’s an idiot sometimes.

“Of course,” I chuckle. “What’s your poison? Vodka, gin, whiskey?”

“Tequila,” she shoots back with a triumphant smirk.

“Done.”

“Nine o’clock!”

She wiggles her fingers at me as the car takes off.

I turn and watch it go, locking eyes with Sarah in her rearview mirror for a brief second. Her eyes looked dead. She’s not looking forward to this. Which, after that fight she just witnessed, I can understand.

“Justin,” I say into the phone as soon as he answers. “How do I get Sarah to realize I’m a good guy?”

“Don’t ask her to betray her friend.”

“Fuck! I need another answer.”

“I don’t know, Jason. Time?”

“I don’t have time. We just finished the recording. The work is all mine now. They’ll be heading back to Michigan soon. I have to do something.”

He pauses and I can hear his assistant asking him something. “Later,” he tells her, before coming back to me. “How much do you like this girl?”

“Enough to picture her having my children.”

“You’re shitting me. Jesus, are we even related?” he growls under his breath. “Fine. I’ll try and come up with something.”

Pushing my hat over my eyes to block the waning autumn sunlight, I break the news. “They’re coming to my place tonight. I’m inviting Jake and Drew, too. To celebrate the album.”

“I’ll be there,” he says without hesitation “I’m in. Let’s make this happen for you.”

Hanging up I dial our younger brother. “Jake! Party at my place tonight to celebrate!”

He chuckles, voice deep. “What’s the celebration?”

“Finished recording a number one hit today.”

“You’re very confident.”

“When you hear it, you’ll see.”

“I can’t come, buddy. Drew’s got the flu and I’m taking care of her.”

My smile vanishes. “Oh shit, Jake, I’m sorry. Tell her I hope she gets better soon. Need me to pick up anything?”

“Nah, thanks. I got it,” he says easily. Then his voice changes to mock-possessiveness. “And if anyone’s going to help my wife get better, it’s me.”

Stifling a laugh, I offer, “Okay cool, I’ll get her some whiskey. And my cock. That’ll clear her flu right up.”

He laughs outright. “Fuckin’ sicko. I’d like to see you try that. I’ll cut it right off.”

“Ouch! Never joke about that.”

“Never joke about my wife again.”

“You mean your wife and my medicinal cock?”

“Shut up, Jason,” he chuckles. “You’re lucky you’re not here.”

My voice changes so he knows this time I’m serious. “She that bad, huh?”

“Whole body aches. Been throwing up. She’s pale. I hate it. But you guys have fun. I wish we could be there.”

“Me too, Jake. Talk soon.”

* * *

I spend hours layering the tracks together, and since there are no windows in my studio, I lose track of time. When it hits me that I haven’t looked at the clock, I burst out of my seat and lock up.

Expensive tequila. She wants it, I’ll get it. But this particular booze is a dangerous choice when it comes to women.

At the liquor store on the corner of Northside and Seventeenth the backdrop of Atlanta’s skyline sparkles in the distance. I stop a second and take it in. I love this city. I’ve been to Detroit. It’s not boring, that’s for definite. Can I convince her to stay here a while?

“Yeah, right,” I mutter. “Like she’d live anywhere Simone isn’t.”

Discouraged by all the obstacles, I yank the door handle and pace through lanes of liquor bottles ranging from ten dollars to two-hundred. Behind the counter are even higher priced options. So that’s where I’m headed. “Two of the Asombrosos. One of both kinds you have here.”

They never smile at this place, and tonight is no different. As the guy rings me up my mind wanders to the next several hours of uncertainty. I’m on a suicide mission and those bottles are the fuel. But by the rapid beating in my chest, I’m not turning back.