The Beautiful Truth

// 176

"Guess who just bought a...building?" I laughed at the preposterousness of what had just come out of my mouth. I was cruising up Highway 1 in Orange County, reeling at the thought of having just procured a multi-million dollar property. I'd paid in cash, so there was no escrow. One minute I didn't own a building, the next minute...I did. Yes, this was certainly my life.

I bought a place in Laguna Beach. I'd finally taken myself on a road trip there, and liked it so much that I used some of my contractually allocated 4% of The Truth's box office take to buy a house. And a surf shop. Or at least the building they both occupied. The surf shop was downstairs, storage was on the second floor, and my new 3,000 square foot loft occupied the third floor. I was just across the street from the ocean, and I had a balcony that stretched the entire face of the building on which to sit and watch the sun set. And write.

Like I said, crazier things had happened. Besides, my dad had once told me to do something entirely irrational and spontaneous with my money—I guess this qualified.

"Yeah, that's great. You can tell me about it later," Micki shut me down just as quickly as I'd answered her call. "Turn your radio to AltNation right now. Wait, AltNation? XMU? No. AltNation."

"Well to do that I have to hang up," I told her. We were talking on Bluetooth at the moment.

Without another word she hung up. I laughed and shook my head, flipping the radio where she'd directed me. AltNation was my go-to Sirius station.

"So this saga is finally starting to make sense," the familiar DJ was saying with an audible grin. "Is it safe to say we finally know who all these songs have been about?"

The most wonderful, beautiful, sexy, scratchy laugh came over the airwaves. I immediately got goosebumps and smiled. "Oh my God," I said to no one in particular.

"Oh yeah," Barton Black said with noticeable confidence. "They're all about her. Even the ones I wrote before I knew her. It's like I wrote her into existence."

I laughed.

Pretty much.

The DJ laughed, too. "Isn't that kind of like that book, you know, The Secret? Is it all visualization?"

"Maybe," Barton replied. I imagined he'd shrugged with a grin.

"So that song you wrote for The Truth of It All, the one you just played...I have to ask," Reagan began. "Was that about the movie or about your relationship with her?"

Barton laughed lightly. "I think it was a little bit of both."

I smiled.

"Well, I know you've got a few things to do before you leave the city," Reagan announced—

He's leaving?!?!

"—but how about you give us one more song off your solo project before you head back to California?"

"I know just the one."

"I bet you do," Reagan smiled. "Barton Black, it's been a pleasure getting to know you while you've been in New York. I'm proud to say that you're not only a friend of AltNation, but a friend of mine as well. Best of luck to you, man, and go get your girl."

Barton laughed again. "Thanks man. SF, because I know Micki and Alex so well, I know you're listening by now, so this one's...well, of course it's for you. See you soon."

"Down and Stop?" Reagan asked.

"Down and Stop," Barton confirmed.

I was grinning so hard that I couldn't help but laugh. Up and Go? Down and Stop. Of course. It was a happy, fast-paced song—quite the departure from The Beautiful Truth.

So sit down and stop right there,
This is it, I'm not going anywhere,
I've tried for so long
To run away from you
But Sawyer, honey, my runnin' days are through.
You can come to me,
Or babe, I'll come to you.
Now I'm all white flags
And packed bags,
'cause I'm coming home for you.