Thank fuck our next tour isn’t for at least six months, maybe more. I’ve spent the last week and a half chasing the fuck out of Presley, only to have her foil all my attempts. Either she’s busy or she’s tired or some other fucking excuse. If I’m gonna convince her to come on the road with us, I might need a full six months to do that.

Van’s chair scrapes against the floor as he pushes it back and stands. Putting his aviators on, he says, “Right, that’s settled. Book her.” Without a backwards glance, he strides out of the room.

“What the fuck is his problem?” West demands, watching Van with a filthy glare. There’s no love lost between those two. I spend half my time sorting out their issues, and I’m way fucking over doing that.

“He’s pissed about the fundraising dinner I signed us up for,” I admit.

“Christ, we’ve known about that for over a week now. He needs to get the fuck over it,” West mutters.

“Yeah, well you two need to get over whatever shit you’ve got going on. I’m sick to fucking death of dealing with your crap.” I blow out a long, frustrated breath.

West scowls at me, but I ignore it. I couldn’t give a shit if he’s pissed at me. Least of my fucking problems.

Hunter can’t handle confrontation and tries to calm us down. “You think you can book her, Jett?”

I stand up, ready to leave. “Yeah, I’ll book her.” Even though she’s putting energy into avoiding me, I’ll amp up my efforts and get her to cave. “I’ll catch you guys later,” I say and head out. Although we’re on a break, we’re working on our next album when we can catch time together and we’ve got plans to record later this afternoon.

As I make my way to my car, I pull out my phone and call Presley. She answers me almost straight away. “You just don’t give up, do you?” I like the playfulness in her tone. It hits me right in the dick, and I decide then and there that I won’t be taking no for an answer today.

“No. I’m taking you out for lunch today,” I say as I get in my Jeep.

“Umm, since when?”

“Since now.”

She goes quiet and then sighs. “Jett, you need to move on and find someone else. We have nothing in common.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, tell me what you love to do when you’re not making music.”

“Anything outdoor. Jet skiing, surfing, skydiving, camping.”

“I hate the outdoors.”

“What do you love to do?”

“Well, obviously photography, writing, art, going to the movies.”

“I like going to the movies. What kinds of movies do you like?” I’m enjoying this conversation, and I settle back into my seat.

“Romantic comedies, thrillers, and dramas. You?”

“Action but I can do thrillers, too.”

“See, nothing in common.”

I try to find something else. “What kinds of holidays do you like to take?”

“The kind where I can sit by the pool or beach and drink cocktails. Maybe read a book. Let me guess, you love full-on holidays where you never stop.”

“I do, but fuck, it doesn’t mean we can’t go on a date and see where it leads.”

“Why bother starting something we know isn’t going to go anywhere?”

“Bloody hell, Presley, are you always this pessimistic?”

“No, just practical. We’re both busy people and neither of us have the time to put into this.”

I make a decision and turn the keys in the ignition. “You’d be surprised what I have the time for, sweetheart.”

“I’ve gotta go, Jett.”

“We’ll talk soon,” I say, and end the call.

I immediately dial another number. Presley’s got no idea what she’s in for.

***

Forty minutes later, I park my car outside her apartment. She lives in Kangaroo Point, not far from where my apartment in the city is. It’s a gorgeous area, close to the river. I exit the car and squint in the sun. It’s hot in Brisbane today, just the way I love it. I reach for the coffee I bought her and head up to her apartment. I’m wondering if she’ll buzz me in the front door, but as I arrive at it, someone is leaving and he lets me in before the door shuts behind me. Too easy, meant to be.

I take the lift up to her floor, and a couple of moments later, I knock on her door.

She answers it and surprise covers her face. “Jett. What are you doing here?” She sounds unsure of herself, and I know I’ve made the right decision. Presley wants me as much as I want her.

I hold out her coffee, and she takes it with hesitation.

“Hazelnut with a shot of vanilla. I believe it’s your favourite,” I say.

“How the hell did you know that?”

I shrug. “I have my ways.” I take a step forward, trying to push my way inside. She steps aside and lets me. I thank the universe for coffee that makes her momentarily forget she doesn’t want to date me.

Her home is beautiful. I’d been too distracted the other night to pay much attention, but I take it all in now. Splashes of colour everywhere, plants dotted throughout and books on every spare surface. It’s got that feeling my mum and dad’s home has, and I’m drawn to it. After a decade of living out of a suitcase, I’d love to come home to a place like this, instead of the bland apartment I own.

“Michael told you,” she accuses, and I can tell from her tone he will get his ass kicked for this.