Page 5 of Hot Ride

When did chasing my dreams become so complicated?

I turn back to Gary and Sloane with a resigned sigh.

“Look, Daniel's wedding is coming up. I’m taking a break. Going off-line for a while.”

Sloane purses her bright pink lips, undoubtedly calculating the public relations fallout caused by my absence.

I'm past caring.

As I usher them out, I’m already imagining myself driving on endless open roads and eating at truck stop diners.

A sense of calm washes over me.

I wander to the wet bar, pouring a glass of Glenlivet on the rocks. The familiar burn hits my throat, grounding me as I approach the window.

Peering through the sheer curtains, I see paparazzi swarming at the front gates like vultures, their flashbulbs blazing like miniature supernovas. I can’t even go outside.

My stomach churns as I recall the recent tabloid headlines.

“Heather's Heartache: Jett Silver Ditches Devoted Starlet!”

“From Lovebirds to Splitsville: What Went Wrong for Jett Silver?”

“From Grammy to Glum: Jett Silver's Post-Breakup Meltdown!”

A derisive snort escapes my lips. Meltdown? Hardly. It’s more like a long overdue reckoning—exposing our relationship for the sham it was.

Heather never cared about Jason Miller, the small-town dreamer who busked for small change while writing songs at night.

My fist clenches, ice cubes clinking.When was the last time someone saw the real me and gave a shit?

The realization settles like a lead weight. All this glitter and gold is suffocating. Fancy mansion, fancy prison. Funny how being on top of the world feels a hell of a lot like rock bottom.

I knock back my scotch.

Screw this.

It's time to strip the bullshit.

A faint smile tugs at my lips as I grab my phone, scroll through songs, make playlists, and download self-help podcasts. If I'm going on a journey of self-discovery, I'll go all in.

“Getting in Touch With Your Inner Child.”

“Mindfulness for the Modern Man.”

“Unleashing Your Authentic Self.”

A good old-fashioned road trip for my best friend's wedding back home is the perfect excuse.

Who knows what I might find out there? New inspirations, forgotten parts of myself, maybe even someone who sees the real me.

I'm not looking, but I'm open to whatever comes.

A familiar ringtone cuts through my revelry. Daniel's number flashes on the screen.

A grin spreads across my face thinking about my oldest buddy. He knew me when I was just a scrappy kid with a secondhand guitar, before all this fame bullshit hardened around me like armor.

“D-Rock!” I answer, unable to contain my grin. “What's good, man?”