Jess’ POV
A week had passed and I was still in New York finishing up the Tinie Tempah track. It was taking much longer than it should have, mostly because my mind kept wandering to the whole ordeal with Aston. How could such a perfect night have gone completely sour? I was so sure that we were on track to have something amazing, to maybe figure out away to rekindle our old flame. But then reality struck and I was shocked back to earth.
Finally, ten days after arriving in New York, the track was sorted. I was so proud of what I’d come up with, it was maybe the best track I’d ever produced. Tinie and his label also loved it, and had definitely decided to make it the leading single for his new album.
As I finished up with the track I packed up, planning to fly back to LA and sort out finding a job. I took a taxi to the airport, checked my bag and walked up to the security line and passport check. I handed my British passport over to the man working at the passport station, standing waiting for him to inspect it. It took much longer than it normally did. And then he signaled for another transportation officer to come over and passed my passport over to them.
“Is everything ok?” I asked, confused.
“You’re going to have to come with us,” said the second officer.
“Why?” I asked.
“Please follow me,” he said. Confused I followed him into a small room where I was told to sit at a table. The officer took my passport with him and then a few minutes later an older woman came into the room, shutting the door behind her.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Did you know you are traveling with an expired visa?” she asked sternly.
I just stared at her, before putting my head in my hands and letting out a loud breath. I’d completely forgotten about my visa what with all of the drama with Aston and getting the Tinie Tempah record. “I lost track,” I mumbled into my hands.
“We can’t let you travel within the United States with this visa,” said the woman.
“So what does this mean?” I asked, slightly worried.
“We can do two things,” said the woman. “If you have a sponsor we can try to get a new visa drafted on an expedited service. We’ll have to call in the consulate, and see if they can draft you a temporary visa which will allow you to travel while the new visa goes through. Do you have a sponsor we can call?”
I felt my heart beating fast, since Mosley had let me go I no longer had a company to sponsor me in the US. “I don’t…” I said slowly. “My old sponsor did not renew my working contract and I haven’t found a new one.”
“Then you’ll have to go with Option Two,” said the woman. I looked up at her, prepared for the worst. “Without a sponsor we are going to have to deport you to your country of citizenship.”
“You mean, back to England?” I sighed.
“I’m afraid so,” she said. “I’m going to have to have an officer escort you while you stay on American soil, per our regulations. You may be able to get your ticket to LA swapped out for a ticket to London if you’re lucky. On occasion if there are seats available they are willing to do those sorts of things provided you pay the difference in cost.”
“Ok,” I sighed.
I got up and followed her out of the room, being passed over to another officer who escorted me to the ticket counter. With only minimal hassle I got my ticket swapped out for one to London, and was subsequently taken through security and to my gate. I slouched down in my seat and pulled out my phone. I had a couple of tough calls to make. First I had to tell my housemates in LA that I wasn’t going to be coming back for awhile. I called up Kristen first, leaving a message since she was busy at work, and then called Molly.
“Hey babe,” I sighed when she answered.
“How you doing?” she asked.
“Not so good…” I said.
“Oh no! What’s wrong.”
“Well I’m being deported back to England,” I said as tears finally started to prick my eyes.
“You’re joking…” said Molly, shocked.
“I wish,” I said. “My visa expired three days ago and since Mosley let me go, I can’t get a new one. I have to leave the country immediately and can’t come back for awhile.”
“Oh babe, I’m sorry,” said Molly. We chatted for a bit about everything that had happened, and she casually slipped in the fact that Aston had come by the house the day I’d left, upset and very apologetic. I didn’t even want to think about that right now.
After awhile we hung up and I scrolled through my phone, selecting the next number to call, my best friend Jen back in London. If I was on my way back to England, I needed to find a place to stay.
“Hello?” said a groggy voice on the phone. I forgot about the time change, I must have woken her up. Quickly I filled her in on everything that had happened at the airport, asking if I could stay with her.
“Sorry babe,” she said. “Mike’s brothers are staying with us this week,” she said, referring to her boyfriend of the last two years who she now shared a flat with. “They’ve got the spare room and couch all tied up.”
“It’s alright,” I sighed. “Thought I’d try my best friend first.”
“I’m sorry babe,” she replied. “Chin up yeah?”
“You don’t even know the half of it…” I said. It was true, she didn’t know the bit about Aston yet. She would probably hunt him down if she heard.
“Well I’ll make a brew and you can tell me when you get over here ok?” she said.
“Thanks babe,” I replied hanging up.
I just stared at my phone scrolling through contacts trying to figure out where I could stay. Most of the people in my phone were Americans and would be of no use. I continued to scroll through my phone, getting more agitated by the minute. How could things have gone so badly in the last few weeks? First my job, then the whole Aston ordeal, now I was being deported and had to face potential homelessness? Super.
Sighing my thumb stopped over the last possible number in the world I would ever want to call in this scenario. Clicking on the name to dial the number I took a deep breath before placing the phone to my ear…