Truth

I nodded. It was true. Those artists that wrote their own songs were like gold in the music industry. They turned pain, happiness, love, anything into music that captured just about anyone.

Jane paused as I ordered the most expensive appetizer on the menu, all while sipping on her drink, before she turned back to me. She bit her lip, knowing very well that I was upset that she told Vinny about me.

If there was anyone on this earth that I didn’t want to know, it would definitely be him. Next time I saw him, he’d probably ask for a sample or a demo, and then I’d have to sit there and watch as he listened or read my lines and tried to fake a “WOW! You’ve got talent!” like we were on America’s Got Talent or something.

“Well, anyway… to make a long story short, they were trying to come up with a plan to bring someone in to help guide him to write new music—not necessarily take over for him and write songs on his behalf, but to guide him.”

“Okay… What does this have to do with m—” I instantly snapped my mouth shut, then opened it again, only to close it one more time. “You didn’t.”

“Just listen!”

“If you told them I’d write music for some musician who is probably doped up on drugs or som

ething, then I’m going to kill you right now.”

Jane grabbed my wrist with her hand. “Let me finish.”

“Fine.” I huffed, grabbing onto my water glass a little harder than before.

“First off, he’s not on drugs. He’s not like those other artists you hear about that go to rehab every five months. That’s not the case. Something is blocking him, and he just needs some guidance. I mentioned to Uncle Vinny—once his colleagues were gone—that I had an idea, which was when I mentioned you and your talent.”

I opened my mouth and sighed. “It’s not talent, Jane. Just a hobby.”

She gave me a knowing look, so I turned my head away. Praise. Why was it so hard to accept? Even from the one person who probably knew me better than anyone.

“And what did Uncle Vinny say? That you were nuts thinking I’d be qualified for such a job? Come on! Plus, who is this artist we’re talking about? The one who isn’t on drugs?”

“Do you want to know what Uncle Vinny said... after I gave him some of your stuff?”

I didn’t snap my head over to Jane. No. I was too stunned. Instead, I slowly…very slowly… craned my neck to her and just stared. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

I wanted to evaporate into thin air. I wanted to hop over the bar and ask for a job so I could cut music out of my life indefinitely. Sorry, kiddos, your music teacher has officially said goodbye to banging triangles and playing piano.

I was seconds from plugging my ears so I couldn’t hear what Uncle Vinny thought. I wouldn’t be able to write again if he said it was shit.

“Uncle Vinny wants you to work with Reid, Brooklyn.”

All thoughts of myself stopped when I heard the name Reid. He was the one we were talking about here?!

Jane didn’t give me a chance to say anything. “He read your songs; the ones you sent me long ago. The ones that aren’t even as good as the ones I know you’re hoarding somewhere in your apartment in some tattered old journal. Probably the one with pink flowers.”

I smashed my lips together because she was right. It was totally the pink flower journal.

“You already know what the answer is, Jane. And we’ll get back to me being pissed at you for sharing my personal songs later. I’m not even close to being qualified to write music for someone like Reid King. And Reid King?! Is that why you had me YouTube him earlier?”

Jane swallowed the rest of her drink before turning her entire body toward me, her heels hooking on the rimmed barstool. “They weren’t that personal if you sent them to me, and come on! Don’t I get any credit for believing in you and your talent so much that I shared them with him? You help younger children write songs and learn music during the summer, what’s the big deal?” She shook her head. “Yes. I shared your stuff with Uncle Vinny, but it was only because I knew he’d see your talent. And guess what? He thinks you’re good. Like really, fucking good. So good that he wants you to work with someone like Reid King.”

I wasn’t believing a single word that came out of her mouth.

Me? Me?! Were they nuts?! I was an elementary school music teacher. Sure, I taught some basic songwriting lessons on the side, but I wasn’t some fancy music writer that was getting royalty after royalty from selling artists and record companies lyrics to hit songs.

I was a nobody, hiding in the shadows—just where I liked to be.

“You know very well that the answer is no. The majority of me doesn’t even believe you right now.”

Jane rested her hand on mine and squeezed. “Before you say no, you need to hear the rest of the details.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “The rest of the details? All you had to say was Reid King and you should have known that I’d say no. Could you even imagine me in the same room as him?! I cannot help him write a song. My God, Jane, I probably wouldn’t be able to form words or even breathe!” I shook my head. “Jane, I’m not like you! I couldn’t even handle being on homecoming court in high school because people were staring at me! How do you expect me to act when Reid King even glimpses at me?”