LOVE GALORE: CHAPTER ONE
Los Angeles, California.

━━━━━━━━━━

The plane touched down at LAX just after midnight, the glow of the city bleeding through the darkness like a beacon. Salem King leaned her head against the window, the exhaustion of seven months on the road catching up with her. Paris had been a dream, a fitting end to her solo tour, but now all she craved was stillness—a rare commodity in her life.

Her manager, Mina, waited by the baggage carousel, scrolling through her phone. Salem grabbed her duffel bag and approached, her steps heavy.

"Finally home," Mina said with a soft smile, though her eyes betrayed a weariness of her own. "I left your schedule for the week in your inbox. We'll touch base Monday?"

Salem nodded. "Sounds good. Thanks for everything, Mina. Go get some sleep."

"You too. You've earned it." Mina hesitated, then gave Salem a quick hug before disappearing into the night.

By the time Salem arrived at her house in the Hollywood Hills, the world was starting to blur at the edges. Her spacious home, with its clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows, felt eerily quiet. She dropped her bag by the door, kicked off her sneakers, and padded through the open-concept living room.

Stripping down to nothing, she headed straight to the bathroom. The water was scalding, but she didn't care. It cascaded over her skin, washing away the layers of sweat, fatigue, and the intangible weight of performing for thousands night after night.

She leaned her head against the cool tiles, letting her thoughts drift. The tour had been everything she hoped for and more—sold-out shows, glowing reviews, a sense of artistic fulfillment—but now that it was over, she felt... empty.

What now?

After drying off, she slipped into an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweatpants that swallowed her frame. Her stomach rumbled, but the thought of eating felt like too much effort. Instead, she settled at her desk, flipping open her laptop to tackle the mountain of business emails and unread texts.

Even Stevens 🥸
Looking forward to tomorrow. Got something special for you.

Her lips curved into a faint smile. Working with Steve Lacy was one of the few things she was genuinely excited about. He had a way of bringing out parts of her artistry she didn't even know existed.

The knock at the door startled her. Salem glanced at the time—just past 2 a.m. She made her way to the door, heart skipping a beat, until the peephole revealed her best friend, Chloe Rogers, grinning like she had no concept of time or boundaries.

Chloe held up a bottle of white wine in one hand and a bag of takeout in the other. "Surprise!"

Salem opened the door with a smirk. "Now you know I don't drink."

"Well, this calls for a celebration. You're finally back from tour, and we need to catch up."

Chloe breezed past her, kicking off her heels and dropping onto the plush couch like she owned the place. Salem followed, amused despite herself.

"What's in the bag?" Salem asked, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

"Thai. Your favorite."

They dug in, the clink of chopsticks and the sound of the city night filtering through the windows.

"So, what's the plan now that the tour's over?" Chloe asked between bites.

Salem leaned back, the weight of the question pressing against her chest. "Honestly? I just want to relax. Maybe sleep for a month straight."

"Sure, if by 'relax' you mean heading to the studio tomorrow with Steve Lacy." Chloe raised a brow.

Salem rolled her eyes. "That's different. It's one track. Then I'm free."

Chloe sipped her wine, watching her friend with a sly smile. "You know, you're going to have to get back out there eventually."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dating."

"Pass," Salem said flatly. "Fuck these men."

Chloe burst out laughing. "You're impossible."

"Maybe. Or maybe I just don't have time to deal with their nonsense."

"Not every guy is nonsense, Salem. You've been out of the game for, what, three years? Don't you miss it? The butterflies, the excitement?"

"I get enough adrenaline on stage, thank you very much." Sure, Salem had minor flings here and there but to say she'd go out of her way to date it's not happening.

They spent the next hour trading stories—Chloe's disastrous Tinder dates, Salem's horror stories from the road, and everything in between. The laughter felt like a balm, filling the quiet spaces in Salem's home and, for a moment, quieting the noise in her head.

By the time Chloe left, the bottle of wine half-empty and the takeout demolished, Salem felt lighter. She stood by the door, watching as her best friend disappeared down the driveway, before turning back to her empty house.

Salem locked the door behind Chloe, the faint scent of lemongrass and jasmine rice still lingering in the air. She leaned against the cool wood for a moment, her gaze drifting to the shadows stretching across the living room. The emptiness of the house pressed in again, stark and heavy after Chloe's lively presence. 

Dragging her feet, Salem shuffled back to the couch and collapsed onto it, curling into the corner. The city hummed faintly in the background, a constant reminder of where she was, but the quiet inside her home was deafening. 

She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and scrolled absently through her notifications. Texts from her band members, a few missed calls from Mina, and a slew of Instagram tags from fans posting photos from her Paris show. Normally, she'd smile at the love, but tonight it just felt like noise. 

Her fingers hovered over the screen before opening her notes app. It was a habit she hadn't shaken—a place where she let her thoughts spill out unfiltered.

She stopped typing, staring at the words until her eyes blurred. With a sigh, she closed the app and set her phone face-down. 

The night stretched on, restless and unrelenting. She wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and stared at its sparse contents. A lone bottle of sparkling water caught her attention. She twisted the cap off and took a sip, the bubbles fizzing on her tongue as she leaned against the counter. 

Her gaze flicked to the large windows that framed the city below. From this vantage point, L.A. was a sea of glittering lights, endless and alive. But instead of feeling connected, she felt like a spectator. 

Back in the living room, she flipped through channels on the TV, landing on some mindless late-night talk show. The host was interviewing a pop star she vaguely knew, their laughter forced and hollow. She turned the volume down, letting it serve as background noise while her thoughts spiraled. 

What was she doing? 

The tour had been everything she dreamed of—proof that she could stand on her own, create her own legacy. But now that it was over, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. 

Her phone buzzed, startling her out of her thoughts. It was Mina again, this time with a text: 

Mina
Don't forget about Steve at 10 AM. Call me if you need anything.

Salem typed a quick reply—Got it. Goodnight.—and tossed the phone onto the couch beside her. She wasn't ready to think about tomorrow yet. 

The hours crept by, and sleep remained elusive. Finally, she grabbed a throw blanket and stretched out on the couch, the TV still playing softly in the background. The weight of the day, the tour, and the future pressed down on her, but she willed herself to close her eyes. 

As she drifted off, one thought lingered in her mind: 

What now?

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, she let herself sink into the silence.