More often than not, her words would get me all hot and bothered, and I’d send her a picture of me jacking off. Sometimes video. That would get her all worked up, and we’d share a moment, even though we were thousands of miles apart. I was getting a chubby just thinking about the steamy things we used to send each other…but things were different now, and if I sexted her today, she wouldn’t respond. I was sure of it. It was just one more thing in a long list of things that I’d never get to do again.

This fucking sucked.

Sitting up on the bed made the throbbing in my head feel like someone was jackhammering my skull, but lying here thinking about my wife wasn’t helping anything. Fuck. Was she still my wife? Or were we separated and on the fast track to divorce? I had no fucking clue, and that scared the shit out of me.

My future had always seemed so clear to me, like I was swimming through tropical waters. I could see every pebble of possibility, every coral of comfort, every fish of fame that was going to come my way. Now though, the water was so murky, I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. And it was iced over. And covered in concrete. The treasure buried deep beneath the waves was so unobtainable to me now, it seemed ridiculous that I’d once had my fingers buried deep in the gold. I’d had it all, and now…I had nothing.

Well fuck that. I wasn’t about to just sit here wallowing in woe-is-me crap while my world turned to shit. I had time to fix this, so that was exactly what I was going to do.

Grabbing my jacket off the floor, I strutted out of my room. I was going to get what I deserved, then get my wife and kids back. Anna’s smile flashed through my brain, followed quickly by Gibson’s laugh and Onnika’s curls. Goddammit, I already missed them so much, it was hard to function. I had a job to do though.

I decided I had to make do with the best of a bad situation. Yes, the album sucked…but no one outside of my family knew that. If I could somehow convince the world that it was awesomeness dipped in awesomeness, then maybe I could collect enough preorders to make a dent in my debt. A small part of my brain warned me that preorders could be returned later, but I ignored that part. I had to try to make the album successful. I had to try to earn some of my cash back. It was the only option I had left.

Over the next month, I did everything I knew how to do as a promoter. I hit every TV show, radio station, club, and newspaper in town, begging all of them to showcase me. But no one was biting. I tried to keep my thoughts off Anna and the girls while I scrambled for attention, but it was impossible to do; they were on my mind twenty-four/seven. Eventually I broke down and called Anna. My hands were slick with sweat when I dialed her number, and my fingers were shaking when I brought the phone to my ear. I’d never been more nervous to talk to my wife, not even in the beginning, when she was just a hot chick I wanted to bang. But now…there was so much between us, and so much at stake that I could lose, if I hadn’t lost it already. I was a wreck, and she hadn’t even picked up yet.

Her voice was cool and distant when she did answer the phone. “I was beginning to think you weren’t ever going to call,” she stated, her voice flat and lifeless.

Instead of telling her how much I missed her, how nervous I was to talk to her, how scared I was about my future, about our future, I let the shell surrounding me harden; it was the only way I could get the words out. “I wanted to check on the girls. Are they all right? Where are you guys staying?”

A long, controlled exhale met my ear, like she was fighting her own emotional battle. I wasn’t sure she if she was going to respond, but after a while, she finally did. “We’re staying at Kellan and Kiera’s for now. Gibson…asks for you every day, but she’s fine, I think.”

That damn lump in my throat returned. I hated the thought of my little girl being denied something she wanted. She should have everything, wrapped in a pretty pink bow. God, I missed her. “Is she nearby? Can I talk to her?” My voice came out scratchy, like I’d swallowed sandpaper.

“Of course,” Anna whispered. Her voice was rough too. The line was silent a minute, then a sweet, familiar voice came on. “Daddy? Where are you? When you come home?”

A surge of something so strong went through me that I had to bite down on my knuckle to hold it together. “Soon, baby. Soon.” My throat closed, I couldn’t speak. Luckily, Gibson had lots to tell me, so I didn’t need to.

“Onnika hit me! And Ryder broke my toy! And I found a kitty, and Mommy let me keep it. Her name is Kitty Sunshine…”

She went on and on with all the details of her life that I was missing out on. The pain in my throat eased with each sentence, but the ache in my chest grew larger. I should be there. I should head home on my hands and knees, admit all my failings, and beg Anna to take me back. I should be a better husband, a better father…put all of their needs above my own…since they were all I truly lived for anyway. But still, I couldn’t leave yet. I couldn’t admit defeat. I needed to see this album through, on the off chance it might save me, and in turn, save my family. If that was even still possible. Fuck, I hoped it was. I couldn’t stomach this being the end of Anna’s and my story. She was everything I wanted, everything I needed.

So why the fuck did I let her go?

On the morning of the album’s release, I paced the living room. Chelsey had one eye on me, one eye on her laptop screen. “Any reviews yet?” I asked her for the umpteenth time.

She hit refresh, then shook her head. “No. But we didn’t give out advanced copies, so that’s to be expected.”

I nodded but kept pacing. I’d done everything I could think to do to advertise the album. I’d even gone on a public TV game show called Guess My Claim to Fame. I’d hated every second of it; the producers had decided that my claim to fame was leaving the hottest band on the planet at the height of their popularity. I’d sat there with a smile plastered on my face and let them insult, mock, and ridicule my life choices. Whatever I had to do to get people to buy the album. And today was the day I found out if anything I’d done was worth it. Fuck, it had to be worth it. I’d given up everything for this. Literally everything. If the album didn’t pay off, if I couldn’t climb out of debt and show Anna my worth…I didn’t know what I would do to win her back. And living a life without her just seemed…pointless.

“Now?” I asked Chelsey. I just wanted one review to pop up so I could know what to expect from the rest. But honestly, I knew what to expect. The album was shit, and I was fucked.

Chelsey sighed, then closed her laptop. “Maybe we should go do something…see a movie?”

“No…but thanks.” I gave her a half smile in appreciation. Then I pointed at her computer. “Can you check again?”

A review to finally come in. It was one star, and the headline read, “I WISH I COULD GIVE THIS NEGATIVE STARS!!” The reviews seemed to pour in after that, and none of them were good. “Worst album ever made!” “I could do better with my keyboard!” “My ears are bleeding!” “I want two hours of my life back.” “I think my IQ just went down after listening to this.” “It’s obvious the D-Bags are better off without him!” The only slightly positive review, and the one with the highest rating—three whole stars—said, “This made me laugh so hard I peed! Best comedy album I’ve heard in a while.”

I fell onto the couch while Chelsey softly closed her computer. I didn’t ask her to check again. I didn’t need to. The facts were clear. I was a joke.

Chelsey put a hand on my knee. “I’m so sorry, Griffin. I know you tried…”

Staring at nothing, I shook my head. “Not hard enough. I’m starting to think I don’t try anything hard enough…”