Page 5 of Finding Tane
It felt like something Ihadto do. The joy was long gone. It was work now.
My brain wasn’t providing anything new or fun. In fact, in place of new melodies and ideas for lyrics, my brain was static. The sound of a speaker when a guitar has been plugged in but no one’s strumming.
Nothing but white noise.
Groaning, I picked up my phone. Andrew wouldn’t call back, he’d be off with marketing by now, I was sure.
There was a disturbing number of new notifications. On my Instagram, on my incoming messages, on email. Looking at the numbers made my mind go blank.
They wanted to know why I’d pushed the release date of my new album back. I’d done it three times. I couldn’t very well keep them hanging... but I had barely written anything I could use for an album either.
There was too much pressure. I couldn’t think of anything except the gripping fear that took hold of me as those numbers ticked up, even as I was looking at them.
Static played riotous in my head. Nothing but white noise, roaring too loud in my ear.
I had to get away.
That’s all there was to it. I’d do that night’s gig like normal, pack all the shit I cared about and hire a car, and be gone in the morning.
But go where?
I couldn’t just fly home, I wasn’t ready for that. Ma would have so many questions, and I didn’t have answers. Besides, it wouldinvolve too much paperwork, then a twelve hour flight. Nope. Too-hard basket.
I had to go somewhere no one would know who I was — which wouldn’t be too hard outside of L.A., San Francisco and New York City. I was only really big on the club scenes, and in Japan. And I wasn’t about to fly to Japan, same issues with flying home. Too much admin.
Ignoring the little bubbles of numbers, I opened an accommodation app that I used fairly regularly. There had to be something...
I tapped filters. Hotel or motel, yeah that was fine. No shared accommodation AirBnB bs. I wanted my own bathroom, thank you very much.
Somewhere within a day’s drive.
Somewhere not a city.
There were a lot of options. I hadn’t really realised there were so many small towns in California.
I slumped back on the plush cushions of my couch and opened Instagram instead. I ignored the notifications and scrolled. I followed a lot of travel influencers and one of them had posted a gorgeous picture of a small town. Where was it?
Foggy Basin.
I clicked on the location tag. It checked all the boxes.
I looked up accommodation and booked a room at the local motel without even thinking about it.
Done. For tonight.
This was really happening. I stood up, feeling briefly light-headed but mostly... euphoric.
I was taking control.
Escaping.
Taking my life into my own hands before I was smothered by everything. All the things people needed from me piled onto myback like a dead weight and I couldn’t take it anymore. I was sinking, quicksand sucking me down.
It was time to pack.
Chapter Four
Dillon
