Midnight leaned my way. “Jason would’ve been happy to be trending all week.”
“But he would’ve hated the old pictures they posted of his cornrow faze.”
“That boy wanted to be black so bad.” Midnight tried to make a joke. “He’ll probably come back as a black man.”
“He used to check African American on job applications.”
“I’m shocked.”
“That he checked that box?”
“No, that he ever applied for a job.” Only Midnight could make me smile at a funeral. Midnight leaned my way. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“No.”
“Have you cried yet?”
“No.”
“You should come stay with me—”
“No.” I could picture how living with Midnight would be—half-naked women filling up his huge mansion, booze all over the place, drugs covering the counters, groupies trying to get pregnant for a check, fake guys hoping to be in my entourage.
I needed silence and mountains.
Beyoncé hit a high note with pure perfection.
Unfazed, Midnight whispered to me, “What are you going to do? Europe would be nice right now.”
“No. I’m going to Utah.”
“Jesus Christ. Utah? Shit is bad, Gio, but it’s not so bad that you must go to Utah. Where the fuck is that anyway? In the center or—”
“I’m going.”
He lowered his shades. “But Utah?”
Beyoncé finished the song.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
“No, you won’t.”
I shrugged. “No, I won’t.”
Joel Osteen read a prayer over the loudspeaker. I walked away from the prayer, Midnight, and the crowd of crying fans. I wanted to run, race out of there, speed away. If I could’ve, I would’ve taken a spaceship off the planet altogether. I needed to hide, get away from it all. Go back to what mattered the first time Jason and I had come together to write our songs.
Fuck the women.
Fuck the partying.
Fuck everything else.
I headed to my limo, running back to the music that had been buried in my heart.
And now I stood on my balcony as snow fell around me. What would come from Simone’s visit? I could feel this energy spinning around in my chest like this moment would be the moment that changed it all.
Sighing, I stared off in the snowy distance. “Where are you, Simone?”
Chapter 5
Simone
Music can change the world
because it can change people.
~Bono
My flight had been delayed due to the storm. I arrived in Salt Lake City and grabbed my rental car around nine. I’d rushed too much, not taking time to breathe and think things through.
I was already an hour away from Gio on a lonely, snowy road by the time I saw that my phone was at low battery and couldn’t find my charger.
Not smart at all. I should’ve taken my time, thought things through. I should’ve left tomorrow morning or days later. What the hell was I thinking?
Even though it was Christmas Eve, tons of trucks littered the road, freaking me out. I guess truckers didn’t get holidays off like everyone else.
At least someone’s out here with me, just in case something happens.
I let that comfort me, not that I was a fan of being stuck on the side of the road and waiting for some stranger in a diesel to give me a ride.
You’ll make it. Everything will be fine. In another hour, you’ll be in Gio’s house...well, probably mansion. Either way, you’ll be there safe, warm, and fine.
The windshield wiper screeched back and forth, making a rhythm to guide me along. I hummed with it to keep my head in the game and not on my worries.
For once in my life, I had the money in my pocket to get a high-end rental and really live it up while I traveled. But I’d chosen to fly off on Christmas Eve. There had barely been any seats left on the plane. First class had been filled, so I ended up sitting by the bathroom, which wasn’t as bad as I thought.
Either way, I was not a fan of this rental, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was older than my car and the rental manager hadn’t been a fan of the tires. He ended up giving me two extra spares and tried to convince me not to drive off. Pure stubbornness and excitement had made me ignore his warnings, give him my credit card, and speed away to Gio.
Now, I was regretting it.
Let’s just make sure I get there.
I’d grown up driving on a freaking island in the south, not a northwestern area of massive highways. And I’d never driven in snow. Stupid. So fucking stupid. Living in New York, I didn’t even have to drive. I jumped on a subway or grabbed an Uber. Why would I think I could handle goddamn mountains, icy roads, and several feet of snow?
Not smart at all.
My heart boomed in my chest as I squinted and focused on the road. The snow had picked up, dimming the street lights. The roads were icy. I maintained a decent speed to avoid slipping the rental into a tree or another car. Meanwhile, wind from those large diesels rocked my small car as a fifth truck blared its horns at me.