return the thanks, but didn't feel that it was necessary. Maybe it would give me some extra bargaining chips if I sounded like I was going out of the way for him, bending my very tenuous and wobbly rules just for him.
I wanted him to think that I was going because I wanted to go, not because this situation with Sam had turned my life into a very complex game and I didn't know how to make my next move.
But who was I kidding? Appearing excited would be easy, because I was excited. My heart was racing at the prospect of a weekend with Jack after four very long days apart. By this point, I was really craving Jack's professional input. I was certain he'd have something to say that would put me at ease right away.
Well, I hoped it would be the case. And if not, seeing him would be really nice.
***
I packed that night, not really sure what I was packing for. The summer weather could be unpredictable—you never know when a storm might pop up and try to drown you!—so I decided to include a full array of outfits, a couple for heat, a couple for if it got cool, and something fancy in case Jack had some extravagant surprise for me that involved an upscale party. Oh, and a rain jacket.
The whole time I packed, I wanted to call him and ask him what was up. But part of me craved a nice surprise more than anything. I think I needed that more than I needed more information.
Even though I didn't know what was coming, I slept soundly, the mere fact that I'd see Jack the next day enough to put me into peaceful slumber. The game had changed, and so had my short-term goals.
It was just the way the world worked, the way life worked. Whenever you planned for something specific, there was always some variable you overlooked, some crucial element that transformed the situation into an entirely different animal. The variable might be simple, life-threatening, or somewhere in the middle.
The result might be obvious, or a dreaded gray area. Sometimes not knowing was even worse than the possibility of a bad outcome because you just didn't know what to do. If it was the worst scenario and you knew it, at least you could respond.
Jesse had given me much-needed perspective, for sure. Those were angles I hadn't considered in the least prior to speaking with him. And now, there was the angle of the label going under and everyone losing their jobs. It was probably just Sam being overdramatic, but what if he was right? I didn't have an answer to this, and my desire to act apathetic wasn't going to cut it. I cared, even if I was trying to act like I didn't.
Jack would clear this up. I was sure of it.
Even though there were risks involved with seeing him, what difference did one weekend really make?
Friday went by quickly without any serious incident. Sam seemed at ease, but once again, no talk of a deal. He had a meeting with another artist that afternoon; he didn't let me sit in on that one. I hoped that having a meeting meant good news, but chances were it didn't actually amount to anything.
When I left, I felt something different than I had ever felt before when leaving the office. Something was changing, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. The feeling wasn't good or bad, just significantly present.
I turned to wave at Sam—he just didn't seem to be around. Was he hiding from something? It didn't matter. I was going to solve all my problems starting now, not because I wanted to but because I had to.
Jesse wasn't home when I got back to the apartment. I was early, but not by much. I spent those extra minutes double-checking what I had already packed and having a quick snack. Giddiness went through me in waves that were almost painful. I needed to figure this out.
I was super excited about whatever the hell this trip was. Jack had a natural talent when it came to surprises—and gobs of money to make them happen. At 5:28, I looked out the window and saw the long, black limo waiting. The usual.
I smiled as I carried my suitcase down the stairs. This was some treatment I got, and I couldn't deny how good it made me feel. I was like faux-royalty when I got carted