Turn the Page Read Online Free

not enough. The
gallery worked more as a sample of my work than actual revenue, but
that was okay—freelance assignments were covering my half of the
rent.
    Working as a freelance photographer for
Nathan was more lucrative than I expected. He put me to work right
away in November, wanting fresh photos for his website and updated
bio. Flying all over the US made it harder to communicate with
Jacob while he was on tour, but the assignments were usually done
in a couple hours. If my results from New York Fashion Week were
enough of a hit, I could be going to Paris next for more shows. In
the meantime, I shot a couple high-end weddings, some private
portraits, and a few ad layouts. Nathan had connected me with
people who knew people.
    Dressed and fed, I went down to my office by
the private stairwell. E-mail and voicemail were waiting from my
few days off, giving me plenty to do before opening to the public
at nine.
    Light glinted off the silver fob on my key
ring, even under fluorescent lights. Locking my computer, I grabbed
my keys and headed for my car.
    Jacob’s current house was in a more private
area of the hills than his last place on the celebrity bus tour.
Why did I have a dream about living here before I ever saw it? It
was a mystery I was still driven to solve.
    I stopped at the gate to type in the security
code, then rolled through the open passage up the driveway. Though
smaller than his first big-time residence, it was still huge. A
typical formal new construction.
    Maria was probably still with her family, so
after going in and disabling the alarm, I hunted down the mailbox
key. It would be just like him to not ask the post office to hold
his mail while he was gone. There were no envelopes, but UPS had
dropped off a box.
    I set it on the kitchen counter and looked
around. Honestly, I didn’t know why he picked this house. Maybe it
was a steal or reminded him of his family estate, but there was no
sense he lived here, no air of it being a home. He told me he’d
been too busy to decorate, but unpacking personal touches didn’t
have to take a lot of time—I knew, I’d moved a lot in
adulthood.
    Even in this big kitchen, I couldn’t tell
Maria had been using it since last summer. Maybe she didn’t expect
Jacob to stay.
    From my last tour of the house, I knew only
two rooms echoed their inhabitant: his “office” and his bedroom. I
stopped in the office first, his base of creation.
    The door had been left open. Little of the
neutral wall paint showed due to all the awards and records hung.
To the left, at least a dozen guitars sat on stands; to the right,
a simple metal leg desk and a full-size keyboard against the far
wall. The showpiece was the big window with built-in seat. He’d
left a pen and pad on the cushion.
    I sat in his desk chair and the leather
released a waft of his scent. The chair was one of the few remnants
from the move. Closing my eyes, I breathed in his essence, faint as
it was from two months’ absence. My chest got tight.
    This wasn’t helping. The pieces of Jacob just
made me miss him more.
    I resumed a cursory check of the house,
making sure all was as it should be, reset the alarm, and left.
    ****
    December Twenty-eighth
    From Canada, the tour flew to Taiwan. To
Beth Lawson: Just arrived in Taipei. Heading to the car now. Love
you .
    The Far East loved Western pop culture and
Jacob was their latest favorite American export. The band wasn’t
prepared for the reception they received leaving the airport. A sea
of fans was there to greet them.
    “Holy shit,” Bob said.
    The crowd was even bigger the next day in
Seoul. It was flattering and a touch frightening. Their minders
said only the pro video game champions received more attention.
    Jacob smiled and waved, but his heart wasn’t
in it and he hoped it didn’t show. Wasn’t the fans’ fault he wanted
to be somewhere else.
    The road was odd business, moving here and
there at odd hours cooped up in a plane or bus. No one let you