"What are you saying?" I sighed into my phone.
"You'll be on tour for the next four to five months, sorry man but this is what you signed up for." My manager, Jake, tells me.
I let out another sigh. "Yeah, alright, bye." I hang up my phone before he has the chance to tell me anything else. Music is my life, I love it, but being on the road sucks.
I lean forward onto the railing of the new little shack I bought. I don't think anyone's lived here for years, but the view is enough to make anyone want to move to the little no-name town.
My phone goes back to playing Rixton's 'Me and My Broken Heart'. I open my mouth to sing along, but when I hear a fragile voice start to softly sing, I look up. It's a girl.
She looks to be somewhere around my age, long deep brown hair with red highlights pulled into a braid and a blonde streak in her bangs. She's wearing a knitted sweater that nearly passes her shorts, she's barefoot but I see a pair of sneakers in her hand.
She sways as she stands ankle deep in the water, she shivers and walks back up the stone steps from the little beach on her property to go back up to her house.
I pull my sunglasses a little ways down my nose so I can actually see her. She doesn't look my way, but when the other neighbor comes out she smiles and waves. I don't know anyone else in this community, I just moved here.
I turn around and walk back inside my new home. A little two story house in Rhode Island. It serves its purpose, and seeing that I'm going to be on tour for the next few months, it'll be empty for most of the time.
I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge, mostly empty, but I pull out a vanilla crème soda. I plop down on the couch and flick on the TV. Yeah, the thrilling life of an uprising singer/songwriter. My single 'Walk Away' went off the charts and now my CD is flying off the shelves.
Now I'm going on tour.
I can't complain, I just don't want to be away from my new home. I feel alone, my girlfriend of a year broke up with me because of my rising fame. She said she was jealous of all the attention and 'I love you' comments on my Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, you name it. She would get raging jealous and at first it was cute, kinda sexy. But when I woke up one morning and saw all of her stuff packed and her telling me I didn't love her enough, it broke me in two.
Now I'm here writing songs about her.
I lay back on the couch and close my eyes as a random baseball game played. I didn't even like baseball, my ex loved it.
After trying to take a nap fails time and time again, I sit up and reach for my guitar and pad of paper.
I strum a few chords, get a tune, and the first idea that pops into my mind is the girl I saw earlier. I shake my head and think of Vanessa. Her choppy blonde hair that always danced just above her shoulders... the girl today's would stop just below her rib cage.
Matthew, stop it! You don't even know this girl's name.
I rub my eyes and put my song writing equipment down. I hold my head in my hands trying to clear my head.
The doorbell rings and I try to think of a reason to not answer it, there's a soft knock and I drag myself up to the door.