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11
Three days until the wedding
“You have to sign all this?”Beck asks, surveying the stacks of VIP fan gear already loaded onto the charter plane when we get to the top of the steps.
“Yeah.” I glance at Annie, who’s taken a seat with Rae and Elle up front.
Haley sits with Sophie while Jax works on getting Mason to sleep.
“I’ll do it for you.” Beck walks with his dog, who looks longingly at my jeans through the bars of his carrier as though he’d like to defile them, toward two seats facing one another near the back.
“Doesn’t work that way, man.” I follow, dropping into one leather seat.
“How long is this flight?” he asks, claiming the other seat.
“Long.” I peer out the window at the sunny day. With luck, our destination will be as beautiful.
“Roger that.” Beck reaches into the pocket of his designer denim and produces a black eye mask.
“Getting your beauty sleep?”
“In case I need it. We’re partying once we get there, I assume.”
“Annie has the details planned. She’s actually been amazing,” I admit, casting a look over my shoulder at the front of the plane as I think of all the details she’s taken care of.
I’ll make it up to her.
But for now, I rise to grab a stack of tour shirts and one of the four dozen Sharpie markers included with the gear.
The plane takes off, and I spread the shirts—laid flat to make it faster for me to sign them—on the table between us.
“Album’s done. You need to take it easy.”
“As if you do.” I laugh between signatures. “You’re filming sixteen-hour days. Plus, I’m not forgetting I wouldn’t have my career if you hadn’t filmed me playing after Annie went to LA with Finn back in school.”
“Make sure you don’t.” Beck folds his arms over his chest. “What’s eating you, T? It’s more than this tour.”
I hesitate only a second because Beck’s the closest thing I have to a best friend besides Annie, and I want to get this off my chest.
“I told you Jax was working on a deal to buy Wicked. Well, he asked me to be on it too,” I say under my breath.
Beck flicks a glance past me—a cursory look toward the front of the plane and its occupants—before coming back. “No shit. Why? Besides the cool factor of owning the most badass label of all time.”
“It’s a good investment for a couple of guys who know the industry. Plus, it means something to me. I want to make a difference in the lives of the young artists there. Annie has her show, and I have my albums, but this is bigger. We’re just artists, but a label like Wicked?” I shake my head. “Wicked is music, Beck. I grew up at that label. Fuck, Annie and I met there. It’s different for Jax—more like a point of pride to turn it around, to fix what’s broken because he can. But I want our kids to see it. To have it be part of their lives. Hell, maybe they won’t even be into music. Maybe they’ll just need college paid for. But sometimes an opportunity comes up when you least expect it, and I never want to be too busy signing T-shirts of my face to notice.”
Once we reach altitude, an attendant comes around to give us drinks, and Beck opens the door of the carrier to reassure Ernie everyone’s cool. Needing a break for my cramped hand, I shift back in my seat.
“Never saw this happening,” Beck muses, staring out the window.
“Us all having careers? You said the opposite the other night.”
“That’s not what I mean. Figured we’d all be one big happy family. Now you two are branching off…” He rubs a hand over his jaw. “We need to stick together, man.”
I frown. “We will.” When he doesn’t respond, I kick his shin with the toe of my sneaker. “Beck. Come on.”
“Teamwork makes the dream work. I know Manatee’s my girl too, but it feels as if people are gonna start settling down.”
I take back the stack of shirts and grab another. “This look like settling down?” I hold up a shirt with my album cover on it, the tour dates listed on the back.
