“Go then, compose,” Fiona instructed. “But Jagger, we’re responsible for you. Don’t just disappear like that again.”
“Yea, yea, when my boss gives me my work schedule I’ll text a copy to your mobile.”
I jogged my way out of the dining room. When I was clear of their interrogation I took the stairs two at a time. I wasn’t lying. I had a wave of inspiration. I’d had this feeling before when I saw a beautiful lady. This time it felt quite different. I had a melody on repeat in my brain about Ms. Katrina Sweet.
I walked the hall and stopped at the loo. I brushed my teeth and washed my hands. I went into my bedroom humming the chords for fear I would forget them. This song was a hit. I had a feeling. I’d written so many hits that I knew which songs would resonate with the fans. This tune was one of them. I just needed to put something down on paper.
I sat on the edge of my king size bed and reached back for Victoria. My acoustic guitar Vicky was a gift from my mum and named in her honor. I took Vicky with me everywhere. She had been all around the world. She was the guitar formally known as Victoria. I called her by her new name after Prince died. I’d only met him a few months before his death and he jammed with me the once. I almost peed my pants when he touched my guitar and played Nothing Compares To You as I sang along.
I took a deep breath and strummed a few of the chords I’d had in me. I was so knackered I was amazed that I also had lyrics. This song would be the catalyst for an entire album. I just knew it. It was a feeling I had in my soul. I wished Dr. David had a recording studio in his house. I should gift him one. I probably won’t be the last addicted musician he’s paid to babysit into sobriety.
One thing at a time, I grabbed my mobile and decided to record the words and the melody I had combined. . .
She tells me what to do
And I let her.
Do what I gotta do
Just to get her.
I want that sugar
Nice and sweet
The kind that knocks me
Off my feet.
She smiles
And I turn into butter.
Do what I gotta do
Just to love her.
It don’t matter
What she does to me.
My mind is gone.
I’m hers to keep.
It wasn’t much in the lyrics department but it was enough to revisit later. It was also enough to make it into a top forty hit. I had gold in this song and I knew it. I was staying sober this time. I vowed to write this next album completely sober and it will be just as successful as the other ones, the ones where I was hammered from start to finish. Despite everything, I was going to get some kip and wake with a speck of optimism. This wasn’t the end for me. I had something to wake up and look forward to. I wondered if the record company would let me call the next album Sweet and Sober?
Chapter 3
JASON
My mobile was ringing out loud obnoxious. I hadn't heard it ring in days. The only rings were from my warden Dr. David. I had a new number that came along with a new iPhone. My last phone was ruined when I was passed out in a bathtub full of champagne. I didn't remember the incident with clarity. I didn't recall how multiple bottles of 2008 Louis Roederer Cristal was poured in the bath. I just knew I was on a bender, partially dressed, and submerged in a champagne-filled tub. This was one of the many exploits that landed me here in this town.
I was in an unconventional rehab. I was told I didn’t need any distractions while I was trying to get my emotions in check along with my sobriety. I didn’t have much family to speak of and they didn’t have my new number. So it wouldn’t be them ringing me in the wee hours of the morning.
I answered my mobile at the end of a ring.
“Hey Jag, what is this a hear about you and a job?” Glynn, my manager, he was nothing if not persistent, relentless and clever.
“I found employment like a regular bloke.”
“Cool, but have you ever had a real job in your life?”
“No, you know that I haven’t but how hard could it be. I’m trying to fit into my environment. You have me out here in the country.”
“You know why I have you there.”
“Yea, I do.” One overdose and no one will let you forget it. Well two overdoses, but who’s counting. “What time is it in L.A.?”
“It’s two hours earlier than it is there.”
“Are my mates with you?”
“They’re back in London. I gave them a break.”
“A holiday for them and a prison sentence for me.”
“Funny, I’m trying to keep you out of a real prison sentence. Archie’s back at home with his family and Winston’s at Abbey Road Studios trying to record a demo for Adele. Colin’s in the studio with Tove Lo.”
“I bet he just loves that.”
“I told him no hanky-panky. The same goes for you. These record execs are breathing down my neck. They want weekly briefings on your progress.”
“Give them what they want.”
“Every time you fuck up, do you know how hard it is to keep it off of TMZ? Listen, the world loves Toxic Shock. They love you. Negative attention, headlines, news stories, and rumors are not a good thing.”
“I know, I know, I know.”
“Once you get a bad reputation in the industry it’s hard to turn it around. There are not enough heartfelt apologies, and raving reviews to wipe the slate clean.”
“Glynn, I hear you loud and clear. I’m committed to my sobriety.”
“I sure hope so. Don’t let your
