A light drizzle tapped against the roof of the Ford Mustang while soft, unobtrusive music played inside. Jason sat lazily slouched in the driver’s seat, flipping through the pages of tabloids plastered with sensational headlines.

“Rising star of the music industry checks into rehab.”
“Manhattan party ends in overdose.”
“Jason Montgomery’s protégé hospitalized after severe intoxication—fame and recklessness?”

Jason let out a dry, humorless chuckle at one particularly ridiculous headline. He snapped a screenshot for posterity and dialed his assistant, who picked up almost immediately.

“It’s me. Get PR on this and clean it up,” he said, his tone sharp and to the point. He paused, waiting for confirmation. “Yeah, just make sure it’s neat. Let them come up with the usual story—classic case. Text me when they’re on it.”

Ending the call, he exhaled heavily and leaned his head back, shutting his eyes. God, he was so tired of this. The past few months had been nothing short of a nightmare, especially after the UK tour. His “star” seemed to have lost their damn mind. Stress? Fame? Who knows. Instead of recording their second album, they’d been vanishing without a trace, dodging calls to the point that Jason had to ask his assistant, Theresa, to keep tabs on them. And now? Another scandal, another feast for the vultures in the press.

Jason must’ve dozed off because the next thing he knew, less than twenty minutes had passed, and a hunched figure emerged from the building. The “rising star,” his so-called diamond in the rough—but to Jason, just another kid who didn’t know how to handle themselves.

Jason stepped out of the car, walking around to lean against the hood, arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, well. Look who we’ve got here—my favorite,” he said, voice dripping with mockery. “What happened? They took your phone? Or is your tongue stuck somewhere it shouldn’t be?” He smirked, the heat in his words replaced with dry sarcasm. “Guess I had to come get you myself, huh?”