"Jessica is a wreck, and I need you to get her out of my hands. I can't handle this."

There's a brief pause on the other end before my father responds. "Son, I wasn't joking when I said I wanted you to record her. She's a rising star, and we need to capitalize on her talent. I come from the old school of music production, and I can't even begin to understand the social media frenzy that Jessica has leveraged to her success. You are young, you can get what she's doing."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Wait, you were serious? You want me to take my role in the label seriously?"

My father chuckles, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "Son, the industry is changing, and we need to keep up. This is your chance to prove yourself. You have the talent, the vision, and the instincts. It's time for you to step up."

I run my hand back through my hair, processing his words. It's true, I've been slacking off lately, but I never thought my father would entrust me with such a responsibility. "But how am I supposed to record Jessica when John disappeared, and she's a complete mess? She can't even string together a coherent sentence."

There's a hint of amusement in my father's voice as he replies, "Sometimes, Damien, the best music comes from the most broken hearts. If you doubt me, just turn on the radio right now. I guarantee you'll hear a heartbreak anthem playing. It's one of the oldest tricks in the music producer's trade, leveraging a singer's pain to create a record-breaking hit."

I can't help but interject, "I thought our job was to provide drugs, not heartbreaks."

He laughs, finding an excuse to hang around a little longer. "Well, drugs can fuel creativity, but heartbreak, son, that's what connects with the listeners. It's raw, it's real, and it sells like hotcakes."

I can't help but let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, because exploiting someone's misery is always the answer, right?"

My dad's response is quick, almost mischievous. "Son, welcome to the music industry. Exploiting emotions is practically our specialty. But remember, it's also about turning them into something beautiful. You have the power to do that."

He sighs deeply, audibly satisfied with the spin he offered on the immorality I pointed out. "Ah, my 10 'o'clock is here.Good luck, Damien. I have faith in you."

"Signed anybody new?" I ask, hoping it might take the pressure off of me.

"Nah, it's my masseuse."

I can't help but let out a half-hearted laugh. "Well, thanks for the pep talk, Dad. I appreciate it."

He laughs along, his voice full of pride. "Anytime, son. Now go out there and show them what you're made of."

With a renewed sense of determination, I end the call and stare at my phone for a moment. It's time to face the challenges head-on and embrace this unexpected opportunity.

I take a deep breath, ready to navigate the chaos, find John, and help Jessica create something incredible from her pain. 

Let the music journey begin.

***

Please god let it end.

I yank down the Sony headphones and almost bang my head into the desk, seeing Jessica break down into crying through the recording room's double glass. Again, before managing to utter even the first lyric.

We had so many takes that if she had managed just one at a time, I would've theoretically been able to piece out the whole song from it. Twice. If only she had managed a single word...

I look at the time, realize I had spent nearly ten hours trying to convince Jessica a song would be the best way to be heard by the missing John, and slip back into his heart.

All I got to show for it is a hundred different pitches of an auto-tuned sob.

I've been optimistic until now. But looking at Jessica, crying suddenly seems like such a right thing to do.

"Going well, I see."

I glance over my shoulder, surprised to see Lucy of all people. I don't know why she's here again, but I'm fucking grateful.

"Lucy, thank god, you gotta help me," I jump out of my chair, sending it spinning, grab Lucy by the shoulder and try to muster the best puppy look into my screen-boxed eyes. "We have to find John."

"Jee, relax, I was looking for John anyway, I was kinda harsh on him yesterday..." She pats me on the shoulder, but looks away, as if to hide the concern in her eyes.

"I've been trying to reach him all day. His phone's shut off. His car's gone. He could be fucking anywhere." I blurt, trying not to sound panicked, but it almost feels like Jessica's screeching cries have imprinted their tones onto my own.

Lucy looks at me again, gaze collected and steady."Where is Cassie?"

"No fucking clue..." I let out a long drawn sigh, then a bouncing pinball in my brain finally falls into place and my eyes light up at the sight of Lucy. "Can I please bump a cigarette?"