You're not happy."
She wasn't not happy. But happiness was hard for her to find with the uneasiness she felt. Things were going too well and that in itself was a curse to her. She had a show and every piece sold which felt like the equivalent of someone yelling Macbeth in a theatre.
"You're missing my point," She tutted absentmindedly as she held the phone between her ear and her shoulder all while trying to balance a crate of miscellaneous items on her hip.
"There is no point," Jamie countered yet again, "You made art. You sold said art. There shouldn't be so many strings attached."
"But I've never sold like that," She sighed curtly, annoyance in her breath. Although she was the one who called Jamie, she felt like she wasn't being heard, "I don't sell like that."
"You're in your head too much," She could hear how Jamie half-heartedly responded, "Take the win and move on."
"Spoken like a true artist," Her tone was bland and blunt, not bothering to hide her frustration with his response.
There was a pause as she heard the crackling breath he drew in through his cigarette. He was busy. He was always busy, but he seemed busier than usual. She knew it was a new project she had yet to ask about. There wasn't a real need as Gorillaz was established now, no longer needing training wheels, but still required his utmost attention.
The image of the band was his despite sharing ownership. It was something he had fostered from its inception. Even now, with time, money, and energy to spare on other projects, which he didn't shy away from, he still chose to put every amount of effort into the virtual band.
She was always on his side of things, there to hear how his things melded with the music. She never asked about it, always giving him the room and time to mention it himself. This time around, though, curiosity pricked her tongue.
"Damon running you thin again?"
"Only took you twenty minutes to bring him up," Jamie teased, attention moving curiously to the current conversation, "...was wondering when he'd come up."
Her chest felt warm at his comment. She chewed at her lip as if it would buy her time to come up with a usual clever quip, but she only started to get defensive, "Forget I asked."
"Come out." His response was clear and planned.
"Jamie," Her voice held a tone that battled between a warning and teasing. Usually, she wouldn't question it, bags already packed to join him wherever in the world he was. However, she never joined him when he was working. It just had never mixed well.
"We'll be in Reykjavik in a few weeks."
Another pause from her end. He spoke so casually about his destination as if it was a quick bus ride over. Maybe even a walk if one had enough motivation to make it there.
He knew his friend better than most as he added, "You've got the money to do it now."
"I don't blow my money like you," Her humor crept back slowly. She hoped to use it as a way out of saying yes.
Jamie was trying to lure her in. He had asked for her help which he'd done time and time before. He looked at it more as a collaboration. A collaboration that made her queasy. Their arts were two ends of a spectrum that helped with unbiased critique, but an artist never truly got used to constructive criticism.
