A new beginning

Prophecy

Jake's POV

he remaining part of our journey is quite uneventful. I drove from midnight, Nessie sleeps in after a while, but even before that, she is not speaking to me. Just staring out at the window. And I try my best to give her time and space.

Every time I feel like we made a little progress, she freaks out and draws back. But I keep telling myself that it will be okay. She went through a lot. She barely knows me yet. I need to be patient, and control myself. I am terrified of scaring her away.

She wakes up around six in the morning, when I stop at a coffee shop. We are very close to LA now, it's another 3 hours and we will be in the city. She grabs a coffee and some food, and after seeing my yawn which was very discreet and small, she insists on driving through the remaining hours. I want to disagree and say that I am not tired at all, but I can see it in her eyes that she will put up a fight and will probably win, so I just let her. She is good driver, which is of course, not surprising at all.

I try to stay awake and talk with her, but nothing comes to my mind after a few lame questions. Maybe I am really tired. And then she starts to slowly hum together with the radio, and I sleep in. The next time I wake up, we are in the traffic of Los Angeles. I roll down the window, the air is hot, people and cars are crowding everywhere, and noise and the smell hits me at the same time. My opinion must be written on my face, because Nessie gives me a knowing smile.

Not a fan of big cities? Not really. - I mutter. - You like living here? Occasionally. It can be fun. But not always, I like small and cozy towns. I miss nature too. That's why I split my time between L.A and my hometown.

It's still weird to think that she has a different home-town than the one she was born in. The one she didn't even remember.

We drive through the city slowly, and end up in a smaller neighborhood. Nessie parks her car in front of an apartment building.

It's almost ten. This is my building. - she points her finger to a simple three-story apartment. - The studio is on the third floor. The guys are already here. Could maybe go and get some breakfast? I am starving. If you walk down this road, you will see that famously good coffee shop that I talked about. It's just on the corner.

I nod and look away so she doesn't see the anxious look I have on my face. She clearly doesn't want me upstairs with her while she handles her work problems. Even though every fiber of my body wants to stay and help her, I won't cross a boundary that she sets up. After she tells me the code which will get me up to the apartment, I walk down the road and get a line into the coffee shop.

Everything is so different here. The people dress differently, everyone is in a hurry all the time, it's very different from what I am used to. The coffee shop looks rustic in a fake way, like they had to put a lot of effort into it. But they must have some good stuff here, because the line is huge. It takes me almost twenty minutes to place my order, and another fifteen minutes until I get back to the apartment buildings.

I hold the two coffees and the bag of muffins in one hand while I press the elevator button which takes me to the third floor. The house looks very normal, nothing fancy but it also doesn't seem like a bad neighborhood. I found the door that has the studio's name tag on it, and I knock firmly.

A slim, tall boy opens it. His hair has at least three different colors in them, he is wearing some torn up leather jacket with nails in them, and ripped skinny jeans which makes his legs slimmer than my wrists. He looks annoyed and raises one eyebrow at me.

And you are? - that tone alone makes it hard not to hit him. Before I could answer, Nessie appears next to him.Oh, Jake. Hi, come on in. - she gives a glare to the boy who sulks back to the apartment with an eye roll and she escorts me in. - I am sorry, but can you wait for me in the kitchen area? We are almost done. - she leads me to a big open space, which looks like a living room with a big yellow couch and a few armchairs. The guy who opened the door is sitting in one of the chairs, and there are two others on the couch who look way too similar to the first one. Nessie points a finger to the kitchen and I walk in with a nod. The kitchen is connected to the living room with an open door, so even though I can't see them, I can hear everything. I hop on the bar stool, and start to drink my coffee. Two options boys. I won't handle your shit anymore. It costs way too much money, and it draws in the bad kind of attention from the press. It's not worth it. So option one, we terminate your contract with my company and you go live your life on your terms, but you won't go far with this attitude I can guarantee that. No one is that successful, people won't tolerate every shit you do. Or option two, you take off three months from playing and go to the rehab I recommend. You get your shit together. And when you are out, you get another chance from me. But this is the last one.