Catching the Last High

Chapter 5: Cracks in the Foundation

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The tension in the cabin was palpable, weighing heavier than the old wooden beams above them. Mike’s face was still lit by the blue glow of his phone as he paced back and forth, his fingers tapping rapidly across the screen. Jax Slade’s people were being a nightmare, constantly changing plans, and Mike felt like he was playing a game he couldn’t win.

“I can’t believe this,” Mike muttered to himself, his frustration bubbling over. “He’s changing locations again—this guy’s out of his mind.”

Jesse, leaning against the counter, couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Seriously, man? We’re here for this weekend, and you’re still glued to that thing?” His voice was low, but the anger was clear.

Mike didn’t even look up. “I’ve got work, Jesse. You wouldn’t get it. Not everyone can just coast through life.”

Jesse’s grip on the counter tightened, his knuckles white. “Coast?” He took a step forward, his face twisting with years of resentment that he’d tried so hard to keep buried. “You think I coasted? While you were off writing about rockstars, I was taking care of my dying mom. And then Denise—”

Mike sighed, cutting him off. “Jesse, we’ve been over this. I’m sorry your mom died, but you can’t blame me for your life. I didn’t make you knock up Denise.”

The words hit Jesse like a punch to the gut. His vision blurred with rage as the years of bottled-up frustration finally exploded. “You arrogant asshole!” Jesse lunged at Mike, swinging with all the anger he had.

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But Mike’s reflexes kicked in instantly. Without thinking, his body moved—Krav Maga training he had done for years. He sidestepped Jesse’s punch and struck him with a quick, controlled blow to his ankle, sending Jesse crashing to the floor with a grunt.

Jesse lay there, stunned and humiliated, staring up at Mike, who looked as shocked as anyone.

“I didn’t—” Mike started, his hands still up in defense, but his voice trailed off. He hadn’t meant to hurt Jesse. It was muscle memory, a reflex. “Jesse, man, I didn’t want to do that.”

Jesse stayed on the ground for a moment, his breath coming out in short, angry bursts. “Get away from me, Mike,” he spat, his voice cracking with pain and something deeper.

Mike, shaken, stepped back, his phone buzzing again. He hesitated for a second, looking down at Jesse, but when he saw the screen light up, he turned his back and walked toward the door. His assistant’s name flashed on the screen.

As he stepped outside, the cool night air hit him, but his mind was spinning. He answered the call. “What is it? It’s late.”

“Bad news,” his assistant’s voice sounded tense. “Jax Slade just hopped on a private jet to Tokyo to meet up with his girlfriend. He’s gone, Mike.”

Mike stopped dead in his tracks, his heart sinking. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”

“The interview’s off. He’s headed to Tokyo to see Cassandra Bartlet—something about her filming the sequel to TyraXI.”

Mike rubbed his temples, the weight of everything crashing down on him. “Great. Just great,” he muttered, the sting of missing his shot sinking in. All that time, all that effort, gone.

Back inside the cabin, Jesse was slowly pulling himself up, but the damage was done. The air in the room was thick with everything left unsaid. Tom shifted uncomfortably in his chair, struggling with his own pain, but he couldn’t speak—couldn’t intervene.

Before he could get up, Sara stood abruptly, her phone buzzing in her hand. “You think you’re the only one with problems, Jesse?” She was shaking, the emotion in her voice barely contained. “You’re not the only one who’s stuck. I’ve been dealing with this—” she waved her phone, “—for months. My boss, sending me… disgusting messages. And I’ve kept quiet because I can’t lose my job. But you know what? I’m done.”

Her words hung in the air, cutting through the silence like a knife. The room was still, except for the distant sound of Mike pacing outside.

Tom’s hands shook as he tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. He needed to tell them, needed to get it out, but his body felt heavy, his chest tight.

Finally, Tom’s voice broke through. “I’m sick.” It was a quiet admission, but it silenced the room instantly.

Sara and Jesse turned toward him, eyes wide. “What?” Jesse asked, his voice small, the anger drained from him in an instant.

Tom swallowed hard, his chest burning. “I’m dying.”

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Jesse stared at Tom, his jaw slack, as Sara sank back into her chair, her hand covering her mouth.

“How long?” Jesse asked, barely above a whisper.

Tom closed his eyes. “Not long enough.”

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The cabin, once filled with warmth and memories, now felt cold and hollow. The weight of their truths hung over them, heavier than ever. Mike stood outside, staring into the dark, feeling the sting of failure settle in. Inside, Jesse, Sara, and Tom were left in a silence that spoke louder than words. Nothing would be the same after tonight.

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