Chapter One

“I don’t know why you have to go,” My wife, Courtney, said as she folded another shirt and put it in my suitcase. She’s always been naive but loving and with good-intentions. You know what they say about good intentions. “I’m going to miss you.” They pave the path to hell. I walked behind her and put my arms around her.

“Me leaving pays the bills,” I kissed the side of her head. I didn’t want to go either. Leaving my wife is always the last thing I want to do, but it was also my time to relax. I always get to do much more when she’s not around. She helped carry my bags out to the Uber with me, and I said goodbye to her and our two girls, Mika and Lucia.

“You’re Estelle Shawn, right?” My Uber driver glanced back at me in his rear view mirror. Here we go. “Man, I loved your last album!”

I smiled politely and nodded, pulling out my pipe. “It okay if I smoke up in here? I could really use it before my flight,” I looked at the time. 9 a.m. “Sold out to millions and I still get nervous on the plane.”

“Hey, me too!” The driver, whose name turns out to be David (Dah-veed, not Day-vid), agreed. “Well, the nerves thing, not the sold out to millions one.” We both laughed and I lit my pipe, breathing in the chemicals. The smell of burning rubber will always be a comfort to me. If I could snort coke, I would. It’d be so much better for my mouth, but it’s never had the same effects as smoking it has. “You be careful with that, little lady,” David interrupted my thoughts. “We don’t want to lose you or your voice.” I nodded in thanks and put the paraphernalia away. The high helps me get through the crowds of fans that are always pushing to get closer. To get a selfie. To grab my tits. To get an autograph. It’s much easier to deal with when I’m not really there.

The good thing about having your own means of transportation like a private plane is that you don’t have to worry about security as much. Nobody was going to take my crack pipe away. Drugs are encouraged on my plane, after all, to everyone but the people who fly it (they get compensation afterward). I have my own mini-bar of various drugs on board. Courtney still doesn’t know about my habits but I assume she suspects something, which is why she’s always hesitant about me leaving.

Airplane windows have some of the best views. As some of my waitresses tried to tempt me with various goodies, I couldn’t help but ignore them and continue looking at the clouds and the ground. From the west coast to the east coast. How does that one song go? “From the mountains, to the prairies...”

Yeah. That one.

I’m high as fuck. I tell one of the girls to roll me a blunt. I want to go home.