Cherreads

Chapter 42 - Time Skip

AN: Slightly shorter than usual chs since this is mostly showing what happened in the last 5 months. Yeah, I know, it's a big skip. I've tried my best to wrap up certain loose ends. And as usual, 3 chs this week too.

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[2 Months Later]

Charlie shot the videos. He recorded more songs. And somewhere in between studio sessions and post-production calls, he slipped into a new obsession—stocks.

He started with a few thousand, mostly out of boredom, partly out of curiosity. But luck stuck to him like lint. His guesses turned into gains. His gains turned into more trades. And before long, he wasn't just dabbling. He was watching the market like a hawk on Red Bull.

He read enough to appear knowledgeable about investing. He grasped concepts like momentum, volume spikes, and earnings calls. While much of his success was still based on instinct and luck, his past experiences helped fill in some gaps. He invested early in Apple stock, got in on Nvidia before its price surged, and took significant positions in Coca-Cola, Disney, and Nissan. No one move made him rich. But all of them together? That was different.

Two weeks passed. He barely left the computer.

He lived on coffee and whatever Berta or sometimes Lisa cooked. He only spoke when Lisa dragged words out of him or when the studio called about the final cut of Everybody's Favorite Stranger. Laura started bringing him meals and leaving them without comment. He told the girls to give him some time because he was doing everything for their better future, and that they would understand it in a couple of months.

Well, his money kept growing. His portfolio balance looked fake. By the end of September, he'd crossed the seven-figure mark. Over one million. He also had some royalties from the release of his first song. So, that helped a bit too.

The third month changed everything for him. He cashed out a portion of his winnings and began addressing every loose end he had ever faced. The mortgage? Paid off completely. The Malibu house was finally his with no bank involved. 

Lisa's car loan? Cleared. Her medical bills from years of therapy school? Wiped. She didn't even know until the app updated and showed a zero balance. She cried in the kitchen and tried to punch him in the chest for doing it without asking. But she cried harder after.

Charlie didn't say much. He just hugged her tightly and kissed her.

That evening, after the wires were cleared and every account settled, he stood from his chair. His legs were stiff. His back cracked when he stretched. The room was quiet, the glow of monitors finally dimmed.

He walked to the balcony as the sun began to set, painting the ocean with streaks of orange and violet. Leaning against the railing, he took a deep breath. 

The air felt different. It was as if it no longer carried any weight. There were no bills hovering over him, no clock ticking away in his mind. Instead, he felt the wind, listened to the waves, and sensed a low hum of freedom running beneath his skin. 

He closed his eyes and embraced the feeling: no debt, no pressure, no one left to owe. It felt like peace.

With the debts gone, Charlie turned his full focus back to his music. His first album, Charlie's Strange Life, dropped like a storm. The buzz was immediate. It wasn't just a good album. It was something new, something raw and unpredictable. People connected with it.

Within a week of its release, the album took off. Streaming numbers climbed by the hour. CDs sold out at every store that carried them, from indie shops in Silver Lake to corporate chains in the Midwest. Social media exploded with clips of fans singing the lyrics in their cars, lip-syncing in their bedrooms, and using the songs in thousands of short-form videos. The reviews were better than expected. Critics praised the emotional complexity, the stripped-down honesty, and the surprising vulnerability in Charlie's voice.

And the fans? They loved everything. The soft ache of Where the Ocean Knows Her Name, the unfiltered heartbreak in Left Like That, the swagger and bite of Everybody's Favorite Stranger—each one struck a different chord. 

Firelight Records locked him into a follow-up deal immediately. A major radio station offered an exclusive airplay contract. Royalty checks began flowing in weekly, stacking on top of his market wins. By the end of November, Charlie's Strange Life had climbed into the top ten best-selling single albums of the year. Nobody saw it coming. Everyone was talking about it.

The fourth track, Midnight Kind of Love, which was originally left off the final album, was added later as a digital bonus and EP release. The response was massive. Listeners loved the warm, almost confessional tone of the song. It quickly charted on its own, drawing attention not only to the album but to Charlie's story: The comeback of a man who once wrote jingles and now wrote heartbreak. 

And just when people thought they had him figured out, Charlie dropped another track.

This time it was something wild and completely different. A sexy, synth-heavy summer hit titled Blonde by the Pool. The song featured Lisa and Laura on vocals, along with two Ukrainian bikini models as the main leads for the video, who had enough charisma and dance chemistry to carry an entire video shoot on their own. Then there were the background sexy girls in bikinis. The music video was heat and champagne. Set by a luxurious pool in Beverly Hills, it had all the makings of a guilty pleasure: sun-drenched visuals, dripping sexuality, and just enough humor to keep it from tipping into self-parody.

The song exploded on every platform. Clubs started playing it. DJs remixed it. It trended in five countries within days. The choreography became a viral challenge. For a brief stretch, you couldn't go anywhere online without seeing someone dancing in a pool or mimicking the hip shake from the video.

Charlie leaned into the chaos. He gave interviews, showed up on a few late-night shows, and played the game just enough to keep his name hot but not oversaturated. Lisa and Laura gained their own followings as well. Not just as girlfriends of the musician, but as performers in their own right. Their social media blew up. Fashion brands reached out. People wanted to know them, see them, understand the dynamic that made this weird, wild trio work.

By the start of December, Charlie Harper was no longer just a former jingle writer or a Hollywood footnote. He was something else now. An artist with a story, a record that sold, and a future wide open.

...

[Charlie's house balcony, One Week Before Christmas – 12:08 PM]

The sun was high and warm, throwing golden light across the balcony. A breeze came off the ocean with just enough chill to make the cold beer feel earned. Four long chairs lined the railing. Charlie, Lisa, Laura, and Berta stretched out like vacationing royalty, each holding a bottle in hand.

Charlie sipped his flavored non-alcoholic beer and made a face. "It's like someone waved a peach over a seltzer and called it a day."

Berta let out a loud laugh. "You're the one who went soft, not the drink. I told you, real beer's got soul. This? This is sparkling sugar water in a bottle." Just to be clear, Charlie gave her a big raise.

Lisa tipped her beer toward Charlie with a grin. "He's being good. Committed to the whole clean-body, clear-mind thing. You gotta respect it."

"I do," Berta said, popping a chip into her mouth. "I also respect whiskey. And bacon. And yelling at people who earn it. Speaking of which… can we talk about your brother?"

Charlie groaned and slid further down in his chair. "Please don't."

Laura sat up, adjusting her sunglasses. "Oh no. We're absolutely talking about Alan. Man's a walking cautionary tale right now."

Lisa laughed and pulled her hoodie tighter around her. "He finally got his practice back, patched things up with Jake, and then... What? Goes crawling back to Judith like a stray puppy?"

"Stray puppies have dignity," Berta said, cracking open another beer. "That man axed his own damn leg and is now limping back to the woman who sharpened the blade."

"He says she's changed," Charlie said, imitating Alan's nasal tone. "'Judith's kind now, Charlie. She does yoga and apologizes sometimes. And never says, get that thing away from me, anymore, in the last few months.'"

Laura doubled over laughing. "She apologized? To who? Her reflection?"

Berta took a long swig of her beer. "Don't take pity on Zippy anymore. The man chose misery. That's not a mistake, that's a damn lifestyle. He's like a moth who keeps flying into the same bug zapper and acting surprised."

Charlie raised his bottle. "Here's to Alan. May he never lose his house again."

They clinked bottles. Even Charlie's peach ghost of a drink joined the chorus.

Lisa tilted her head toward the sky. "It's just wild. He's finally stable, and he throws it all away to play house with the woman who destroyed him."

Laura shook her head. "At least he's not sleeping on your couch anymore."

Charlie snorted. "Oh no, now he just shows up every other day. Last week he brought a fruitcake. Can any one of you imagine Alan buying a gift for anyone out of his heart? Well, I made it clear, whatever it is, I ain't bailing him out this time."

Berta grinned. "Amen to that!" She raised her bottle and took a sip.

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