Page 21 of Deacon

‘I still can’t believe I’m going to Europe, Deacon,’ Christine whispered as we reached the departure gate. ‘Micah texted me from his base, telling me to eat my weight in tapas.’

‘You can feast whatever you want, Christine. It’s on my dime.’

She nudged me with an elbow.

‘How can I and still look cute in a swimsuit?’

We laughed as I handed the attendant our boarding passes.

Minutes later, we walked into the plane.

We settled into our individual first-class pods, which delighted Christine so much that she let out a whoop of joy.

Raff buried himself in the entertainment console, grinning at the gaming options.

Christine nestled into her leather seat, marveling at the movie selections and the adjustable chair bed.

I smiled; it gave me a kick to see those I cared for enjoy the fruits of my hard work.

Six Sinners had made a big push over the last year, capitalizing on our solid and ever-growing popularity.

Our brand captured the imagination of millions, drawn to our aggressive, multi-instrumental orchestral rock style and raw, redemptive message.

We merged grinding bass lines with complex lyrics and haunting jazz and blues string arrangements, creating a massive wall of sound and meaning that our fans seemed to appreciate.

From a business perspective, as our manager Mason often said, we needed to strike while the iron was hot.

Which meant touring, cranking out albums, and maximizing our revenue until our bodies could give no more.

We were all sliding into our mid-to-late thirties, and the reality of our shelf life was impossible to ignore.

Soon, we’d find it hard to bounce back from five-night arena stretches the way we did in our twenties.

This phase was about securing the bag and generating the highest possible profit margins so we’d all retire comfortably before our bodies quit on us.

Beyond the stage, my workload was just as grueling.

When I wasn’t writing new scores and songs, I was tracking my investments.

From my commercial property acquisitions and residential real estate portfolio to balancing my shares in a few high-yield index funds.

My goal was to make every dollar work double-time and have more than enough to retire by 40 if I chose to.

Juggling my private business concerns alongside the band’s schedule and parenting was a relentless, full-on grind that left no room for error.

Truth be told, I loved the life, the music, the creativity, and the rush of having listeners connect with our lyrics and musicality.

However, I was now bone tired; my voice shot, sore to the core, a result of months on the go.

I promised myself not to think or talk shop for the next few weeks and focus on what mattered: my son and my R&R.

As the plane leveled and we got our first meal, I put on a movie while Raff chuckled beside me at an animated show.

I tried to concentrate on the storyline, but my mind kept wandering to Ana.

Damn, that woman still got me in the feels.

Seeing her earlier today was still reverberating through me.