Whirlwind

29

[Lamarr]

I felt like a fuckin' zombie. Partially functional and comfortable while the other half was near death. Then I had this fear if I closed my eyes I'd fall into a deep slumber and never wake up. This was the overwhelming feeling consuming me over the course of almost four days now.

I found myself fighting the symptoms of a hangover and wishing I never resorted to alcohol as a source of some kind of savior. Now I was sure the dehydration mixed with a bad stomach ache and heavy cloud of fatigue hovering me was becoming something more serious. That and the stubborn pounding in my head and a lack of appetite I had. Soaring thousands of feet over land wasn't helping either. It only made the two hour ride nauseous and had my fingers crossed, head leaned back as I prayed that the insides of my stomach didn't end up splattered everywhere.

Ib sat a few feet away, on the other side of the aisle to be exact. Like everyone else on this private jet he took it upon himself to avoid resting near me, and instead allowed his attention to become engrossed in his laptop and whatever was plastered on its screen. This man was typing away while bobbing his head to the production of one of the last songs I completed for the album. The deadline was nearing, precisely one week away and there were still somethings that needed to be handled. One being the album artwork we would start shooting for in two days but more importantly several samples needed to be cleared. I assumed part of his workload on this trip would be to situate that, but I was starting to think I should do it myself. Ib was hitting major dead ends on contacts of artists for a handful of the samples I used. The entire ordeal was a mess and would only lead to a shitload of lawsuits if nothing could be figured out. Either way, I didn't regret one bit of stepping outside the box just to create the sound I wanted.

"I bet you're grateful for iMessage on MacBooks, aren't you?"

"Man, eternally." Ib exhaled. "Work never stops just because you're thousands of feet in the air. My emails are flooded with shit for Bas, Cozz and as for you nigga, only one sample came through."

"Figures," I mumbled, slowly lifting my head up from the cushions of the headrest. "Don't worry about it, bruh. You have a lot on your plate at the moment. Because of that you can forward me the sample emails and anything else you've collected so far for the album. I'll take it from here."

He quickly glanced in my direction, cocking his head sideways as his brows furrowed. "You sure? I can get Mike to help me. Don't swe—"

"I'm positive," I reassured, interrupting him before he pressed on. "It's nothing personal, I'd just rather take it off your hands and let you take care of those guys and what they need. I can wrap the rest of the remaining details of the album up."

"Aight fam, don't hesitate to let me know if you need my help."

"I won't."

"Oh yeah," Whatever he was prepared to say had a smirk etching across his face. "Since we're delving into my agenda, I should tell you that I spoke to Ry and she's still coming."

"Thank God." I breathed out feeling relieved she hadn't canceled her plans to join us in North Carolina.

Since Mike's party I've been doing an impeccable job at avoiding her, and it wasn't surprising that she was doing the exact same. My reason was simply because what little I remembered doing and saying that night was embarrassing and probably out of line. So I could only imagine how bad the shit I couldn't recall was. Regardless, I didn't have in me to confront her yet. On the other hand there were two explicit memories that have been frequent on my mind, Ry's mention of Melanie and I's relationship and her having to reveal something to me that seemed to be important. If it wasn't for Leslie I'd be in the know about both more than I was now, and I assumed Ry bringing up both and leaving me high and dry were her reasons for dodging me.