A Special Tune

Chapter 2 Blake's POV

"I can't believe you're making me do this," I said as I glared out the jet's window as we soared across the sky. My manager, Greg, sat across from me, and he sipped some whiskey. He was a man in his late forties with a beard and mustache that had grey in it, and also the hair strands on his head. He adjusted his black buttoned-up shirt as he leaned back in his seat.

"Come on, Blake, you know the people will love it," he encouraged with the glass of whiskey in one hand and the other raised. "I can see the headlines now, 'Blake Chambers back in Plant City!'"

"You don't think I can be doing something better with my time?" I argued as I crossed my arms.

"Like what?" Rafe said before Greg could.

Rafe was my lead guitarist and most trusted friend; he sat on the other side of the jet with a magazine in hand, with me on the cover. I shoot him a dirty look for not having my back.

"I could be working on my next album or going on tour, anything but visiting my hometown," I said bitterly.

Greg gets up to refill his glass of whiskey.

"I still don't know what you have against going back home. Maybe it's because you haven't stepped back to Plant City since you were fourteen, and now five years later, you are this young big country artist who thinks his family and hometown are irrelevant to him." Rafe raised an eyebrow, and a part of me wanted to throw something at the back of Greg's head.

Greg turned with a new glass of whiskey and smirked at me. "I told your parents I'd look out for you, and this could be good for you. Think of it, Blake. You are a country star who hasn't forgotten his roots of where he came from. Don't be like these other celebrities who have forgotten and lost their way." His smile faded as he spoke, and his tone turned serious, and I stopped frowning.

He did make a good point. And I did miss home, but I wouldn't dare admit that.

I had a busy schedule for the next few months with concerts lined up. Some of which were surprises that even Greg hadn't talked to me about, I guess, because he was still working out the perks in his plans for me and didn't want to tell me them until they were set in stone. Had I known he was thinking of taking me to my hometown, Plant City, Florida, I'd have stopped it right at the beginning and made us stay in Nashville.

But here I am on a jet halfway there.

"Don't forget this is damage control," Greg reminded me, harshly jabbing his finger at me.

Rafe grimaced, and I rolled my eyes at my most recent scandal. It was on the front page of the magazine Rafe was holding. I made a mistake, and now Greg, my manager, has an idea to make me seem wholesome in my hometown.

"Fine, I won't give you any more problems," I sighed and stood up. I stretch my muscular arms and head to the back of the jet to the bedrooms.

This one had a bedroom, and it was all mine. I tossed myself on the bed, and there was one word, a name, a nickname in particular that came to mind when I thought of home.

"Katiebug."

I sigh and rub my eyes. It’s been too long since I thought about that nickname; every time home comes up, that comes to mind. But home wasn’t Plant City, it was Nashville. It has been for the last five years, and it’s been freeing. Going on tours, concerts, parties, singing, it’s been a pure dream come true.

I never thought I’d wind up here. I was just a boy singing at church with my childhood best friend, and the next thing I knew, I was performing in front of thousands of people. A young uprising country star named Blake Chambers.

One twisted scandal made me look bad, and now I’m back home.

Of course, I had worries. No one knew where I was going. I stayed off social media too, since the incident occurred. Greg thinks that I won’t patch it up soon. It could ruin me before I begin.

And nothing will stop me from being Blake Chambers.

“Aye! We’ll be landing soon!” I heard Rafe call back to me.

I sit up and stretch once more. Traveling usually makes me tired. Thank goodness I wasn’t prone to motion sickness like my mother.

“Alright,” I called back. I grab a jacket and toss it on, then remember this is Florida and I don’t need it like I would in Nashville. I grin to myself, finding it funny how Florida works even though it’s in January. It could be cold or warm. Bring the jacket in case.

We arrived at the private jet hangar and got off and into a black SUV.

“Where are we staying?” I sit in the backseat with Rafe as Greg rides in the passenger seat next to the driver.

“Well, your parents will be glad to," Greg started.

“You told them I’m in town.” It was a statement, not a question.

Greg turned to look at me, and the Florida sunset light shone on his face. “They’re your parents. They deserve to know your home, kid.”

Greg was like a third parent to me; he looked after me on the road and was a good man. I’ll give him that. Sometimes I question his antics, but I knew he knew what was best for me.

It’s not that I didn’t want to see my parents, I just didn’t think it’d be anytime soon. We pulled up to the mansion.

“Here we go,” I sighed.