*Nate*

I feel bad I have to do this behind Trisha's back, but she would have my head if she found out beforehand.
Elliott is being left in the dark as well. I skipped today's meeting with Richard. When Trisha called me in the morning to tell me I was already late, I lost it. That meeting, my job... it means nothing right now. Something bigger is going on.

Paul is the lucky one to accompany me to the studio today for one of two very important meetings. He is in his casual bodyguard attire of a black t-shirt showing off his muscles, black jeans, and black boots. I, on the other hand, am wearing a powder pink button-down shirt with a grey tie and grey plaid slacks.

Today's private meeting is with one of my lawyers, Doug Merchan.

Doug is a 55-year-old married bald man who looks like he should be more of an accountant versus a lawyer. He's tall and lanky with wire rimmed glasses and expensive suits. He is well known in the music industry as one of the best representatives, especially when it comes to music tours. He agreed to meet me in one of the Modern Music studio conference rooms.

I walk into the familiar room with Paul behind me to greet Doug and his assistant, Isabelle, a very young redheaded piece of eye candy with long legs, a plunging neckline, and plastic everything. Typical L.A.

Doug is for sure fucking this one on the side.

"Mr. Hollan! Pleasure to see you." The man quickly stands, adjusts his tie and shakes my hand while his little assistant undresses Paul with her eyes. She then pours us each a glass of water as we sit down at the table.

"You as well. Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice." I smile at the bald man and try not to make eye contact with the sexy assistant.

"Anything for Nate Hollan. So, let's get right to it. You'd like to cancel the remainder of your world tour?"

*******

*Julia*

Everyone has left, and it is just Jeremy and myself in my future Avalon apartment. He sits on the couch next to me, but I'm no longer afraid of the man. Whatever monster he once was is clearly gone or medicated into a deep coma. Non- existent. The doctor has done nothing but be professional towards me since, well, since I took advantage of my rapist.

I'm going to need a lot of talk therapy in the future over the things I have done.

"Can I just stay here from now on?"

"Julia... I wish you could. But you are still showing signs of withdrawals. It takes a while for symptoms to go away. You still need a lot of nursing care, and we just don't have enough extra nurses to send one to accommodate you in here. When you're in your room, the nurses are easily accessible to you when you need them. But this apartment is on the other side of the facility for a reason. To make you feel like you aren't IN the facility."

I clasp my hands together, put them between my knees, and look around the luxury apartment with disappointment.

"What if I force myself to go to all my sessions and eat in the cafeteria? I wouldn't come back here until after dinner. Then I can sleep here instead of out there?"

"Alone? No. I can't. You can't be alone. What if something happens? The closest medical staff to this place would be....me. And I can't. You know I can't." Jeremy gulps noticeably and rubs tension behind his neck. I'm asking too much of him. I'm pushing him to his limits.

"Fine." I pout. "Can I just sit here for a little while longer before I have to go back to my room? Being here kinda makes me feel...normal, if that makes any sense. Like I don't have anything wrong with me. "

"Not alone you can't, sorry."

"So, stay. Just a little while." I can't believe I am asking this man to stay with me when less than a month ago, I would throw up at the sight of him. Jeremy looks down at his phone for the time and back up at me.

"Half an hour. That's all I've got."

I lay my head back on the couch and close my eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing headache I have from stupid Ativan withdrawals.

"It's so quiet here. So different from out there." I say with my eyes closed.

"Yeah. When I go home, it doesn't feel like I'm at the Avalon anymore. It just feels like home. I think that was the whole purpose when these apartments were made. Especially with having access to a private backyard and separate entrance."

"When I do live here, will I be able to like... leave? Run errands, go food shopping? Visit Jame-" My voice trails off and a hard lump form in my throat. I keep my eyes closed, holding in my tears, but my bottom lip trembles.

"Jule, you know you can talk to me, right? I'm still a therapist."

I open my eyes to see Jeremy has his head back like mine with his own eyes closed. For some reason, that makes me more comfortable knowing he's not staring at me while we talk. I lay my head back on the couch and close my eyes.

"He can't go to prison. Not James. He just can't." The crack in my voice makes it obvious I'm on the brink of tears.

"As a doctor, I'm supposed to tell you how you need to be prepared for that in case it's his reality."

"And as someone not in doctor mode?"

"This is terrible. He won't do well there with his disability and it's going to fuck with his head... and yours. Your mental health will plummet. Your bipolar will spin you out of control. You will most certainly fall further into depression."

"There's gotta be a way out. James is a good man. He would do anything for anyone. He doesn't deserve any of this." I mumble. "God, you can get away with raping someone twice and not step foot into a prison. James runs a red light and could get jail time?" I blurt out. I make sure to keep my eyes closed. I don't want to see Jeremy's reaction to what was just said.

There's a long pause where I can feel the tension in the air from my words.

"I never meant to do those things. I never meant to hurt you."

I open my eyes and turn to see Jeremy staring at the ceiling. His eyes glisten as he holds in his emotion.

"But it still happened. And I'm still damaged from it." I say bluntly and stand to my feet. "Therapy session is over."

I walk out of the apartment, leaving Jeremy behind on the couch with his thoughts.

*****

*Nate*

"So how exactly do I go about all this without losing my fan base?" I ask my lawyer before taking a sip of water.

Doug takes a deep breath and opens the folder in front of him.

"Well, are you looking to postpone or cancel the tour? Let's start there. If you are looking to postpone the tour, that would mean your tour managers would then have to reschedule everything. That's a lot of work. But it also gives your fans hope that they will see you perform in the future. If you cancel, you cancel. Ticketholders receive a full refund. You will need to coordinate with venues and promoters to manage the logistics of canceling shows, including potential financial repercussions. Which, I know for you, won't affect you or your lifestyle. Your royalties alone cover you for the rest of your life. But The Avalon is expensive, sir. And you now pay for two loved ones to be there. Eventually, the well will run dry for anyone with such expenses."

"Losing the Avalon is out of the question. But postponing... Fuck. I just don't have a timeline with everything that is going on." I speak candidly now. I'm paying the lawyer enough money. He can handle cursing."

"Can I suggest something that has been done quite frequently?"

I nod.

"Your best bet would be a partial cancellation. Cancel oversees. Give yourself a few months to get your life in order, but keep the U.S. leg of the tour. That's the last leg, correct?"

"Yes. I believe so." Now I kind of wish Trisha were here. She knows more about this stuff. I watch the lawyer flip through some pages and then take out his phone to use as a calculator.

"So you stay somewhat "local" and not travel out of the country," He pauses and plugs in some numbers into the phone. "Yet still make a decent profit. With the average ticket price being $240.00, that's about 12 million per show. $700 million from ticket sales alone.'

That's a fantastic idea. I know from past experiences the longest flight in the U.S. is 10 hours. Boston to Honolulu.

"You'd still be only a flight away from your loved ones yet can continue doing what you love and pleasing the fans."

I look to Paul, who is still in bodyguard mode, but he gives me a slight nod of approval. This would be perfect. Performing at Madison Square Garden alone sets me up for life.

"Ok, talk me through what to do." I say with a little more excitement.

"First, you need to tell your publicist. He or she will draw up on what to say and guide you through communications. Then you tell your managers, producers, and most importantly, your tour manager and tour production team. You will need to make a public announcement. You will need to explain the reason for cancellation, which could be due to health concerns, personal reasons, logistical issues, or unforeseen circumstances." Now I REALLY wish Trisha was here to write this all down for me. I finally make eye contact with the beautiful young PA, and without needing to say one word, she smiles.

"I can type this all out and have it sent to your personal assistant if you'd like, Mr. Hollan." She reads my mind.

"I'd appreciate that, doll. Thanks." I smile, and her face turns three shades redder, making Paul roll his eyes.

"Next, your team will need to coordinate with venues and promoters to manage the logistics of canceling the shows. Normally, you would have to take in legal considerations. Depending on your contract and reason for cancellation, there might be legal implications to consider regarding refunds and compensation. Common reasons for canceling or postponing a tour would be.." Doug now reads from a sheet of paper. Illness or injury to the artist or band members, family emergencies, or other personal matters."

Check, check, and check.

This could actually work.

I walk out of the meeting, feeling a sense of relief for once. Paul and I don't speak until we get into the SUV. Eyes and Ears Everywhere.

"Your thoughts?" I turn to my bodyguard.

"I think it's the smartest thing you have done in a long time." He smirks and starts up the engine. "One piece of advice. Don't tell Trisha until after you talk to your publicist."

*****

Richard Benson is a piece of work. A heartless, ruthless, money hound of a manager with the sensitivity of a fucking cardboard box. How his partner puts up with his bullshit is beyond me. Richard has never cared about my personal life. Management trained him well. He looks at me as only a profit and never gets involved more to build a real relationship in any way.

The fact that he is denying my proposal for a partial tour cancellation doesn't surprise me. He thinks he's so fucking in control of my life but he's not.  I knew this would happen which is why I brought my lawyer. I scheduled this meeting and the only people who knows about it are the people in this room. Richard, Leslie, Paul, my lawyer and myself. 

What does surprise me is Leslie now being on board with my proposal and agreeing with me.

"You're making a huge mistake, Hollan." Richard leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. "Huge."

My palms are clammy, and it feels like my tie is too tight around my neck even though I know it isn't. Any other time I'd have to deal with Richard I'd have a few shots of whiskey to calm me down. I don't have that option.

"I think it's a good idea. There is too much going on in his life right now." Leslie shows empathy towards me. With my face constantly on the news, everyone knows my business. "Like Doug said when he broke it down and did the math, everyone still walks away with a good lump sum of money, and Nate still gets to perform. He's just shortening the tour a bit."

"A bit? A BIT?!" Richard bursts. He sits up straight and is now red in the face. "You're talking about cutting the tour in HALF! Do you know how much money we lose from that?"

"I don't care about the fucking money, Richard." I clench my jaw tight. If Trisha were here, she would give me a good swift kick under the table and glare at me, silently reminding me to hold my tongue. But she's not here and my filter was thrown out the window a half hour ago when this meeting started. We've gone through all the logistics. My lawyer has broken everything down, outlined and highlighted key factors as well as provide copies of my signed contract to throw in my producer's face. 

I'm done being nice.

"It says RIGHT HERE." I tap on the document in front of me while still staring at Richard. "In this LEGALLY BINDING contract we BOTH have in front of us, that in order for me to cancel tour I would need one- just one- of these reasons. I can cancel due to..." I look down and read the very highlighted sentence that stands out on each of our copies. "Health concerns, personal reasons, logistical issues, or unforeseen circumstances. Well guess what, Richard. I have three out of the four happening in my life right fucking now. And I'm not even cancelling the entire tour. I'm still doing the whole U.S. portion!"

It's Paul who kicks me under then table now, acting on Trisha's behalf to have me tone it down.

"He is right, sir." Doug says calmly. "By contract, Mr. Hollan can-"

"Huge mistake, Nate." Richard stands up and adjusts his tie. "You're letting your fans down."

The producer leaves the room, slamming the door loudly, making Leslie jump. I pinch the ever-growing tension at the bridge of my nose.

"It doesn't matter what Mr. Benson thinks, Nate. You hired ME to be your tour manager.  I'm saying it will be ok. You are number one on the charts for the 12th week in a row. You have an extraordinarily large fan base and there is no doubt in my mind they will stick around. You can take a break for the next few months. Focus on your health. Focus on your family and friends. Maybe even decompress and write a song or two in the meantime." Leslie reaches over the table and takes my hand. "I will take care of the rest."

I inhale and nod. "Thank you."

"We'll keep in touch, ok?" She closes her laptop and gathers her belongings. We all stand at the same time, and I give Leslie a hug, and shake hands with Doug before leaving the building.

I am SO relieved to get that over with. Next obstacle...telling Trisha. 

******