Page 30 of Veiled

She’s quiet for a moment. “Are you sure about that? I get that you have some unfinished business with Justin, but you have nothing to prove. This whole hiding from fame thing really isn’t your problem.”

I glance at Justin, watching the serene look of peace on his face. “Yeah. It kind of is. I need to see this through.”

“He’s never going to be happy, Waylon. You don’t get to pick and choose with fame. We don’t get to make that happen. It just happens.”

She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know, but it irks me all the same. “I have to try, Jenny. He deserves to share his music without being mobbed by fans.”

“You’re getting soft on me,” she says, and I can hear the fond smile over her words.

“Maybe,” I admit. I don’t know if I’d let any other clients get away with this. Okay, I know I wouldn’t, but Justin has always been different.

“Call me soon,” she says before hanging up. I watch Justin a little longer before I signal it’s time to go. He swiftly follows me out of the bar, putting his guitar in the back before I take off. There are lots of cars coming in as we’re going out.

“You don’t miss the big crowds at all?” I ask him carefully.

He looks absently out the window. “Sometimes. But I don’t miss the after part. I don’t know.”

He sounds lost, and I hate it. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten so soft with him. I drive for a few hours, silence taking over the car. I start toward the hotel I’d planned to go to, the town is fairly small, but the hotel looked nice.

It’s late. After midnight. And when I see a ball field, lit up only by the night sky and the moon, I detour and park near the dugout.

Justin looks over at me, and I can feel the question before we even get out. “What are we doing here?”

“Grab your guitar,” I say, not answering and climbing out of the car. He follows me, although cautiously looking around.

No one is here. It’s completely serene and beautifully empty. I can hear crickets, but that’s the only sound. It’s a warm night, and I head right through the gate, toward the green of the ball field.

“What are we doing?” he asks, following me. I sit down on the grass and pat the spot next to me.

“Whatever we want,” I finally answer him, and he sits down, placing his guitar case next to him protectively. “Get your guitar out.”

His eyes sweep around again, and he looks at me in question but finally does what I ask, placing it on his lap, cradling it to his chest.

“Play,” I say simply, looking around. “No one is here. No one can see us. You’re just playing for me.”

He still looks uncertain. “You sure we aren’t going to get arrested?”

I laugh at that and shake my head. “You need to let go more, Justin. You want to be free? Here’s your chance. The town is asleep, and we’re on the outskirts. No one is here, and no one is coming.”

I watch as he nervously licks his lips, but then his fingers start to slowly strum away, playing one of his newer songs I recognize instantly. It’s about love. But it’s also about life in general. About going after what you want.

It’s beautiful. He sings softly as he plays the haunting notes. I can’t stop watching him, and when his eyes close, his fingers still stroking over the guitar strings, his voice floating out of him, that’s when I see it.

The serenity of it all. Of him finally getting lost in the music he loves so damn much.

I lean into him, my lips pressing softly against his neck, and he never falters. Never misses a note. “You can go here anytime. When it becomes too much, no one can take this away. It’s about the music for you.”

He keeps playing, but he stops singing, his eyes opening and meeting mine. “It is.”

“I know,” I say with certainty because some of my artists, they love the music, but it’s a means to an end. A way to fame. It’s not that way for Justin. His musical gift sometimes feels like a curse to him.

“I think you need to find a way to perform for large crowds again.”

“That’s not what I want,” he says stubbornly.

“You sure about that?” I challenge and continue, “Because this isn’t sustainable, and we both know it.”

“You’re being a dick,” he says annoyed, and I hate it, but he needs to hear this.

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