Fireworks 3 and 4

Fireworks: Forever Chapter Twenty-Five

    "Well, we got through it," Drake said later in the chauffeured car. "We killed that shit, if you ask me. And two Oscars should go to..."

    SZA sat beside him, staring out the window.

    He glanced at her. "You okay?"

    "Yeah," she said softly.

    "Nah, you're not going to get away with that," he chided. "This is me. What is it?"

    She turned and looked at him. "It's better if I keep this to myself."

    "Are you having second thoughts about all of this?"

    "Kind of."

    "Solana, talk to me."

    She stared down at her hands. "Old feelings are just coming up. That's all."

    "Oh." That had him stuck. Clues had been there, certain looks she'd given him. As far as flirtation, she was putting her all into that shit. He'd known that this could be an issue; for some reason, he hadn't expected to become an issue this quickly. "I mean...we have a history, so that's understandable."

    "And it's one-sided," she muttered, rolling her eyes and leaning against the door. "Embarrassing."

    "Solana."

    She ignored him. 

    "So-So."

    Her lips curved into a smile, but still she didn't respond. 

    "You know I have love for you, right?" he asked gently, touching her elbow. "You know that I always will. Right?"

    "I shouldn't have said anything," she said as the car pulled up in front of her house. "Let's just pretend that I didn't and continue earning our Oscars. Shall we?" She pushed the car door open.

    Sighing, he opened his own door and got out of the car. Then, he jogged around the back of the car and grabbed her by the elbow. "Solana. Look at me."

    "Why?" she demanded, staring at the ground.

    He touched her chin and nudged it upward. "We can't get caught up in this," he told her. "We are in this for a bigger purpose. This isn't about me and this isn't about you. This is about a huge injustice going on in our industry, an injustice that it's up to us to correct. If you think your feelings are going to get in the way, you have to tell me. Now is the time to speak up. Because if your feelings are going to get in the way-"

    "My feelings won't get in the way," she said adamantly. "I'll get it together."

    He searched her eyes, looking concerned.

    "You don't have to baby me, I'm fine," she said, swatting his hand away. "Thanks for the ride."

    He watched as she backed away, frowning. Running a hand over the top of his fade, he turned and got back into the car. "She's in the house. Let's go."

    By the time the car reached his own house, it was nearly light outside. 

    Grateful to see his own house, he waited for the car to be parked before getting out. Joking along with his driver and security team member, he tossed his cell phone up and down in one hand as they advanced on the house.

    It was dark and quiet when they entered, but that was expected in the wee hours of the morning. He strode through the hall and into the kitchen so he could pour himself a drink, then returned to the foyer where he climbed the stairs. Soft music played from upstairs, causing him to smile. Eager to get in his room and kick off his shoes, he strolled down the hallway. 

    The bedroom door was open, which explained why he could hear the music from downstairs. He'd expected to see Mia in the bed, or maybe stretched out in the chaise lounge near the grouping of chairs near the fireplace. She was nowhere to be found and the bed was made. With furrowed brows, he set his champagne glass on the nearest table and went to search the bathroom and wardrobe closet. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he walked over to the bedroom balcony to see if she'd chosen to take an early morning swim. The pool was empty, save a few scattered leaves. 

    His mind raced as he checked his phone. If she'd gone somewhere, she would've texted him. Wouldn't she? There were no text messages from her, no calls. He stormed down the hall, throwing room doors open as he passed. Once he reached the first floor, he peered into the living room, then out the patio doors, checked the dining room and kitchen - although he'd made a drink in the kitchen. They'd fallen asleep in the home theater more than once, so he checked that area, too. She wasn't there. 

    The door to his office was open, and that was odd. He always made sure his office door was closed when he wasn't in it. He hesitated before proceeding to the office. What he wanted was to see her waiting for him in that office. Unless she randomly chose to work in the studio, this was one of the last places that she could actually be in. If I'm hoping to see her in this room then why am I hesitating? Taking a deep breath, he strode to the open French doors leading to his office. His eyes scanned the room, but no one was there. I don't understand. 

    He entered the room, enjoying the warmth of sunlight pouring in from the backyard. As far as he could tell, the room was as he left it. Nothing looked out of place. The desk chair was pushed in, his desktop monitor was off, even the folder he'd left on his desk was still...

    Well, it was open, but...

    I definitely closed that. That's the folder that came from the label. He drew closer to his desk. There was a handwritten sticky note beside the folder. His heart sank as he recognized the handwriting.

Aubrey,

    You could have told me about this. Not

    sure why you didn't. I'm back at the condo.

    Don't worry. I'm not mad or anything. My

    assistant took photos of me loading up the 

    car and will leak it to the gossip blogs. Love

    you,

                                      Mia

    He pulled out his desk chair and sank to it, leaning forward and putting his face in his hands.