Page 49 of Beneath a Tennessee Sky

I swallow my nerves. There’s no use beating around the bush. “I can’t finish the album.”

Richard’s eyebrow arches. “Excuse me?”

“The songs aren’t working. They’re missing something.” I pace the plush carpet. “I need Jinnie.”

“Jinnie?” he asks.

“My girlfriend. She always helped me. When I’m around her the music flows. I’m stuck. I’m not inspired. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

A slow smile spreads across Richard’s face. “Ah. The muse.”

“Yes, I guess you can say that. I’m serious. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “You think Dylan didn’t have his Sara? McCartney his Linda?” He waves a hand. “We’ll send the jet.”

I blink. “What?”

“Where’s this Jinnie? I’ll send the jet to pick her up, assuming she’s still your girlfriend.”

I stare at him with disbelief. I can’t tell if he’s joking with me. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Richard picks up his phone. “Creativity is a fickle bitch. If a pretty face from home is what it takes to get this album done...” He shrugs. “Consider it a business expense.”

I tell him the airport and rush out the door to call Jinnie. I hope she’s not going to be pissed at me for just assuming she’ll drop everything and come to me.

Jinnie picks up on the second ring. “Jack?”

Hearing her voice affects me in a way I hadn’t expected. I can feel her. How weird is that? “Pack a bag.”

A pause. “What?”

“I’ll send you flight info. Tomorrow morning.” The words tumble out. “I need you here, Jinnie. The songs—they’re not right without you. I can’t do this. You’re my muse.”

Another pause, longer this time. I can picture her biting her lip, the way she does when she’s thinking.

“Jinnie?”

“I don’t know, Jack... the bakery—”

“Please.” The word comes out raw. “Just for a few days. Longer if you can swing it.”

Silence stretches between us, humming with everything we’re not saying. Then—

“Okay.”

I nearly collapse, grinning like an idiot. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice softens. “But, Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“No more fancy dinners. I just want to see you.”

“That works for me.”

“Are you okay, Jack?”

I think about my answer. “Honestly, no. I’m drowning without you.”