by Hannah Ford
Those videos all had thousands and thousands of views as well.
There were already blog posts, tweets, and short articles, the vast majority of them positive and glowing, discussing how this new song had gone viral and noting the overwhelmingly positive reaction it was garnering from people around the globe.
Too Far From Home was a phenomenon that seemed to transcend Jake’s celebrity entirely. People that didn’t even like Jake, loved his new song.
There were already dozens of video reactions and Vines posted of people crying while listening to Jake’s song in the background.
All night long, Jake’s cell phone buzzed with texts and calls from various friends and associates telling him how happy they were and also moved by what he’d done.
Eventually, Jake turned his cell phone off and put it in a drawer. “I don’t want to deal with this right now,” he said, as they got ready for bed.
“But this is wonderful,” Raven told him. “Don’t you want to take it all in?”
“Someone smart once said that if you believe the critics when they tell you you’re great, you’ll believe them again when they inevitably decide you suck.”
Raven thought about it, nodding. “I guess that’s true.”
Maybe I still need to learn that lesson. My whole life, I’ve been listening to critics, listening to the people who judged my life. And for what? In the end, the only opinion that matters is my opinion, and only I know whether I’m happy or not.
Jake was watching her now, a tiny grin playing on his lips. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she sighed. “Just that I wish I’d taken that advice over the years. It would’ve saved me a lot off grief.”
Jake climbed onto the bed and grabbed her hands, pulling her towards him. Raven squealed, falling on the mattress as Jake took her by the waist and scooped her into his arms. “You let me handle the haters and the critics, okay? You don’t need to worry about everyone else.”
“Sounds good,” she admitted, smiling at him. “I’ll just worry about you.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
Raven ran her hands up and down his chest, shivering. “Promise me that we’re not going to let this change us.”
“Let what change us?” Jake asked her.
“Now that your new song is such a huge success, things are going to happen. People are going to want your time, they’re going to make demands and you might start to get pulled away from me.” Just admitting that this fear existed felt scary to her, but also embarrassing as well.
Jake caressed her cheek softly. “Hey,” he said. “Look at me, Raven.”
She looked up at him. “Yes?”
“I’m not going to let anyone or anything pull us apart. You’re going to be with me. I need you by my side always.”
“But—“
“No. There are no buts. No exceptions. You will always come first for me, ahead of my career, my music, the fans, the movies, the money. That’s how much you mean to me.”
Raven sighed. “I love you, and I’m sorry if I’m acting crazy.”
“You’re not acting crazy.” He kissed her lips softly. “You’re perfect.”
That night, she fell asleep in his arms again and didn’t wake up again until early the next morning.
When she did wake up, Jake was sitting on the edge of the bed, talking on his phone in a low voice. “I’m open to it for sure,” Jake said, clearly in mid conversation. “But you understand I have some legal issues to sort out with my old label. It could take awhile.”
There was a long pause as Jake listened to whoever was on the other end. He listened for a long, long time, so whomever he was chatting with must have had a lot to say.
Finally, Jake straightened. “Okay, well we’d be happy to come to Miami and stop by. I’ll bring the demo tracks with me.” Another lengthy pause. “Sure, I can be there in a few hours. See you then.” Jake hung up the cell and sat there for a long moment, not knowing that Raven was watching him.
She was trying to decide if he was apprehensive or just thoughtful. The truth was, she couldn’t tell, but something in her was anxious now. Things were changing, just as she’d feared they might.
Perhaps, Raven thought, I’m going to regret posting his song on YouTube. Maybe the success of it will be our undoing.
But then she reminded herself not to think that way.
Trust what you have. Trust Jake. Everything’s going to work out.
As she was lying there, watching Jake and thinking about her conflicted feelings, he turned his head and saw her watching him. “Hey,” he said. “How long you been up for?”
“Not that long,” she said.
He turned his body towards her. “You have a weird look on your face.”
“I do?” she said, acting as if she had no idea what he was talking about.
“Yeah, you do. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Maybe I’m just tired.”
Jake got up and stretched his arms over his head, the muscles flexing, reminding her of just how incredible his body was. Reminding her of what he’d done to her the previous day on the couch.
God, she wanted him so badly all of the time. He wouldn’t be able to stand her much longer.
“Well, I’m going downstairs to make some pancakes on the griddle,” he said. “You like pancakes?”
“Who doesn’t like pancakes?” she said, running a hand through her tangled hair.
Jake grinned. “And I put chocolate chips in the batter, it’s fucking incredible.”
“That sounds delightful.” She forced a smile to her face.
Jake was about to leave the room, as he pulled a t-shirt on over his head.
“Jake,” she called out.
“Yeah?”
“Who was that on the phone? You’re taking a meeting today?”
He nodded. “We’re taking a meeting today.”
“Oh. With who?”
“Come downstairs when you’re ready. We’ll eat chocolate chip pancakes and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” He laughed maniacally and jogged out of the room, his laughter trailing and echoing as he went down the stairs to the first floor.
Raven got up, listening as she heard Jake in the kitchen, banging around, apparently because making pancakes included making a loud racket.
She wasn’t sure why she was feeling so strange—so nervous and edgy.
What had she heard in Jake’s voice, in that phone call, which had spooked her so badly? Or perhaps it was far simpler than that. Maybe she simply couldn’t allow herself to feel happy.
She had to make something out of nothing.
Raven went into the bathroom and freshened up. She’d take a shower after breakfast. When she was done brushing her teeth, washing her face and then putting on a shirt and shorts, she went downstairs and found Jake standing over the griddle, spatula in hand. There were circles of batter with chocolate chips sprinkled liberally over them.
And in a pan nearby on the stove, bacon sizzled and popped.
“Wow, this is quite the meal,” Raven said, surprised. “I like how you look in the kitchen.”
Jake winked. “I can do it all, baby.”
“I know you can. It’s very sexy.” She sat down and watched him cook.
Before long, he was presenting her with a plate of pancakes, a large dollop of butter and cream on top, with bacon strips on a smaller side plate.
He sat down moments later with his own plate of food and dug in with gusto. “Having a hit song really works up an appetite,” he said.
“Yeah,” she agreed, chopping at the edge of a pancake and then bringing it to her mouth. The pancake was moist and delicious, but somehow she couldn’t quite enjoy it.
When she looked up, she realized Jake had been watching her eat. “What’s the matter, no good?”
“It’s wonderful.”
“Then why do you look so miserable?”
Raven sat back and put her fork dow
n. “I think I might be crazy.”
He laughed. “You’re not crazy.”
“Then why can’t I just be happy?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s just embarrassing.” She picked up her fork again and pushed it into a piece of bacon, playing with the food rather than eating it. “I’m scared that you’re going to leave me, basically.”
“I already told you that’s not happening.”
“Well who was on the phone just now?” she asked.
Jake raised his eyebrows. “That was a very strange and unexpected call. Mack Zee-have you heard of him?”
“Of course I have. He sang that famous song…uh…what’s it called…”
“Mesmerize You was the name of it,” Jake said. “But that was just the one big hit he did on his own. He also produced and wrote many, many number one songs for a lot of different artists over the last decade, and then he opened his own label about five years ago. His label’s been incredibly successful in the last few years.”
“So he wants to meet with you?” she asked.
“He wants to meet with us. You and me,” Jake said. “We’re a team now, remember? Why can’t you accept that?” He dug into his pancake, shaking his head in confusion.
“I just feel like somehow the rug’s going to get pulled out from under me,” she said. “I know it’s not rational.” She continued playing with her food. “The thing is, I don’t want to just be Yoko Ono.”
“Hey, people are way too hard on Yoko,” Jake said. “She was an artist and an inspiration to John Lennon. She was an activist. He did some of his best, most innovative work when he was with her.”
“The point is, I don’t want to be that kind of person,” Raven said. “People will think I’m using you, that I’m a gold-digger who’s riding your coattails. And maybe I’m afraid they’re right.”
Jake laughed. “These people are right who don’t even exist yet?”
“They’re going to say it. They’ve already started to say those kinds of things about me,” Raven said. “Can we handle that kind of constant scrutiny and judgment and all the fake stories, the tabloids printing lies and ugly pictures and all of that?”
“I know I can,” Jake said, looking up from his food and watching her closely. “I think the question is whether you can handle it or not.”
Raven picked up a piece of bacon and examined it as if it held all of the answers to her dilemma. “I’m going to try, Jake,” she said. “I hope I can do it.”
“I know you’re going to be okay,” he said, taking her hand across the table.
His gaze warmed her, as did the soft touch of his hand. She felt some of the tension drain from her chest and stomach, and strangely, her appetite returned. She put the bacon in her mouth and chewed, feeling like a little girl who’s just been complimented by a cute older boy. “Thanks,” she said, chewing.
“Welcome,” he said, his eyes glinting at her.
They finished their meal, and everything felt a lot lighter. Raven was laughing and joking around, trying to ignore any of the negative thoughts that occasionally popped up in her mind.
She went upstairs, showered quickly and then dressed in a somewhat business appropriate outfit—black skirt just above the knee, boots, and a black sleeveless top. She styled her hair to the best of her ability, and when she looked at herself in the mirror, Raven thought that the woman looking back at her was confident, sexy, but also smart. She was somewhat who wouldn’t be trifled with.
Her chin tilted up as she found that the inner strength she’d located these last weeks was still inside her.
I’m never going to let anyone make me feel less than who I am—never again.
Not long after, they were both sitting in the jeep as Jake drove out past the gate and onto the island road. It was yet another beautiful Florida day—sunny, very few clouds, everything was bright and the colors popped out at Raven as if everything there was somehow more real than anywhere else.
They didn’t talk so much on the drive into Miami to meet with Mack Zee. The wind was loud, and there didn’t seem to be a need to chat. There was a comfort in just being together, occasionally exchanging a glance and smile, a knowing look that said more than a million words ever could.
Jake was wearing a light blazer and khaki’s with sandals. He looked very casual for a big business meeting, but he still looked hot, as always. And the thing about Jake was his confidence. He didn’t need to wear anything in particular to look incredible, formidable and confident.
The Mack Records building was located on one of the main streets, just off the highway. It was a bold, almost circular building that extended about four or five stories up.
They parked out front and an attendant took their keys, passing Jake a ticket and nodding with cool efficiency. Jake took Raven’s hand as they entered the lobby.
“Mister Novak?” a petite woman at the front desk said, as soon as they entered.
“That’s me.”
“Mister Zee is on the fourth floor. Take the elevators up and he’ll be waiting for you.”
Jake smiled and walked Raven past the front desk, to the elevator banks. A few people in suits pretended not to notice them, but quite obviously did.
Raven wondered how long it would be before paparazzi were showing up in front of the building. Probably under ten minutes from when she and Jake had first been spotted walking inside.
The elevator dinged as Jake gave her hand another squeeze, and the doors opened on the top floor, where a very large man in a double-breasted suit was waiting. He was African American, totally bald with a goatee and earrings in both ears. “Jake Novak,” he exclaimed heartily, ushering them out. “And this must be…”
“Raven Hartley,” she said.
“I’m Mack Zee,” he told her, taking her hand in what was a surprisingly soft grip from his enormous hand. The man was practically a giant, probably weighed well over three hundred pounds, much of which was fat. But he had a surprisingly muscular, solid presence, as if he’d once been an athlete and still had strength to spare. “You can call me Mack, or Zee. I really don’t care which.” He let go of her hand and turned, escorting them down a long hallway.
On each side of the hallway, there were various pictures and posters lining the walls. Framed covers of Spin, Rolling Stone and other industry magazines with Mack Zee on them, signed pictures of famous musicians from Hip Hop to R&B to Country to Rock and Roll. It seemed like if they were alive and had ever sold a record, they were on the wall and had signed their picture.
Finally, he led them into his enormous office, which had a tremendous view of buildings, blue sky and palm trees. The office itself had multiple gold and platinum records framed and hung on the walls, along with even more artists and their signed pictures.
But there was more.
Actual replicas, nearly life sized, of the members of The Beatles from their Sargent Pepper days, Led Zeppelin, and Biggie Smalls and Tupac stood in various positions in the office, looking creepily real as they were caught forever performing without making a sound or a move. They were frozen in time, waxy, yet strangely human and realistic.
“So,” Mack said, striding elegantly for a man his size, “this is where some of the magic happens, anyway.”
“Interesting interior design choice,” Jake said, taking in the wax figures.
“You like? I can have one made of you as well. It would be my honor,” Mack told him, sitting behind his desk and sighing with relief. He was so big that he seemed to loom over the desk.
Jake and Raven sat in two leather chairs just across from him. “I’m good with not being made into a statue just yet,” Jake said. “But I appreciate the offer.”
“Look,” Mack said, picking up a cigar and twirling it in his huge, chubby fingers. “I don’t want to waste your time. I’m very interested in you as an artist.”
Jake nodded that he understoo
d. “That’s a huge compliment. I’m very aware of your work, too.”
“So we’ve established that we dig one another. Now let’s get to the nitty gritty. Did you bring the demo tracks?”
“I did.” Jake got up and pulled the CD case from his blazer pocket and handed it to Mack Zee, who put down the cigar in order to take it. Then Mack opened the case, removed the CD and reached under his desk, fiddling with something.
A moment later, Jake’s demo started playing through the speakers overhead and around the office, so loud and crystal clear that it felt like Jake was playing a concert for them in the room.
“The sound’s incredible,” Raven said.
Mack Zee smiled at her. “I designed the speaker system myself, and then had some of the best engineers in the business install the system. It wasn’t cheap, but it’s worth it, as you can see. I spare no expense when it comes to music.”
He sat back, closed his eyes, and listened.
During the time it took to play the tracks, Mack never once opened his eyes or even moved. He just listened.
A few times, Raven wondered if he’d fallen asleep or maybe drifted into a diabetic coma. But when she looked at Jake, he just shrugged and waited.
When the final notes played, Mack opened his eyes and gave another wide smile. “That was beautiful, Jake. Extraordinary. Really, really.” He dabbed at the corners of his eyes and cleared his throat.
“We’re very happy with it,” Jake said.
“So what’s your situation with your current label?” Mack asked him, growing serious now.
“I don’t have a label, but I’m not really free of them either,” Jake told him. “We could be locked in a lengthy court battle, and I’m not sure where it’ll end up. They could get in the way of any attempt at putting out a new album.”
Mack nodded as though it all made perfect sense to him. “Any chance you’ll patch things up with them?”
“No,” Jake said. He shook his head once and didn’t flinch when Mack Zee stared him down, stroking his goatee.
“The music is phenomenal,” Mack said, “and based on what the response has been to the video you put up for Too Far From Home, I’m guessing this album could be your biggest yet,” Mack told him. “I’d love nothing more than to partner up with you and produce and distribute this thing.”