Are you ever going to finish that damn song, Lucy?”
Lucas, my brother, rooted around in the refrigerator as he spoke. I glanced over at him, irritated. He knew I’d been struggling for some time to put together anything approaching a workable and radio friendly new song. Almost by accident I’d managed to have a minor hit single and now my record company was wanting to speed up the release of my album. There was just one problem – they needed something new, something catchy to really kick-start my career. Easier said than done.
“It’s getting there, Lucas,” I replied, pretending to write lyric on an empty page of my Moleskine notebook. “Don’t pressure me, okay?”
“Chill out, sis, I’m just trying to help. You need to strike while the iron is hot, you know?”
It was okay for him. He was the lead guitarist of Hollywood in Peril and his song writing process consisted of handing the tune over to Danny so he could pen the lyrics. “You’re not a lyrics guy, Lucas,” I sneered, attempted to defend my procrastination. “It’s tougher than you think to write both, you know. Well, go and ask Danny to give you a hand.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You kidding?” I snorted. “What would I want to write a song with him for?”
“Because, in case you hadn’t noticed, he’s pretty good at it. Don’t Die Young is currently number one in 16 countries for a reason.”
“It’s just a catchy tune, that’s all…”
“For God’s sake, isn’t there any pastrami in this fridge? I’m dying for a pastrami
“I’m dying for a pastrami sub here!”
“You ate it all,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “You and your genius songwriter back there are eating and drinking us out of house and home.”
Lucas grabbed his jacket. “I’m heading to the store,” he barked. “We’re international rock stars for crying out loud! Can we not even get a pastrami sandwich when we need one?”
“Wait!” I shouted, panicking. I ran to the front door to catch him before he left. “What about…what about Danny?”
Lucas hopped on his motorbike and reversed back. “Well, now’s your chance, sis. Go figure that song out once and for all.
As his engine roared into the distance, I heard the gentle sound of strumming from the studio at the back of our house. Danny and Lucas had converted what would have been the garage into a small but amazing studio space several months ago, the rear wall accessible from the conveniently-placed (for those guys, anyway) kitchen. I edged forward and listened intently as Danny
gently sang lyrics I hadn't heard before.
“A simple life is all I really longed for...please come back, please come back and sing for me...”
I peered around the corner to see him, eyes closed, looking as gorgeous as ever in a tight
grey top and worn jeans. Damn him yet again.
“A simple life is all I ever wanted...take me back, take me back on bended knee...back on bended knee...”
He opened his eyes and smiled. “Sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“That’s okay.” He jotted some words into a notepad and set his guitar down. “I’m having a bad case of writer’s block, anyway.”
“Didn’t sound like it. That song was lovely.”
He laughed. “Thanks. It’s nowhere near finished, though.”
“What’s it called?”
“A Simple Life. I might keep it for myself and the inevitable solo project. I don’t know if
it’ll really fit with the band anyway. How are things with you? I haven’t seen you for a while.”
I tried to act cool, all fingers and thumbs around the unrequited childhood sweetheart I simultaneously loved and pretended to loathe. “Yeah, good. I’m just working on my new album.”
“Really?” he gasped, raising his eyebrows. “Wow. I knew your single had done well. But the label greenlit an album?
- To be continue 😍
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