Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

SKYLAR

M y pen flew across the room as I growled in frustration. When the hell had it all become so complicated?

I hung my head, drawing in a deep breath, and prayed for the tenth time for the damn serenity to figure a way out of this mess.

The mess being having to bow to the label's request to be at a meeting regarding my ‘future' in Music City. Like I was a damn commodity they were going to use until I became a dried up husk of who I once was.

"Easy, Sky! Your aim is better than freaking Sebastian Lockwood," Ainsley snickered from the chair across from me. I lifted my head, sneaking a glance at her, hair falling around her before she swept it back with her hand, sparkling Swarovski pen catching the light like a damn disco ball. "Sky?" Her head perked up, tone softening. "You ok?"

I groaned into the pillow on my lap, folding over and avoiding the look of concern written all over her face.

"Girl, you need to make limoncello from these damn lemons already," she drawled as she gripped the notebook she had been writing in against her chest.

I quirked a brow. "Limoncello? What happened to lemonade?"

Ainsley, my best friend and co-writer, shrugged, a smirk on her face. "Why bother? I say, fuck it, head straight for the good stuff. Two birds, one sweet libation."

"Libation?"

"Better than a whiskey warning, right?"

"Who says?" She tossed the pen back at me. I stuck my tongue out as I caught it in my right hand. "Ooh, limoncello, with whiskey warning! Double the pleasure-"

"Double the sassiness!" She grinned, then started scribbling on the page she opened an hour ago. A bag of Jolly Ranchers sat next to her, wrappers scattered on the floor.

"If a limoncello whiskey sour tangent from my insanely frustrating situation inspires you, then I suppose my suffering is worth something." A car horn blew down below, loud and continuous, as if the driver had major road rage issues. On my little, quiet street, far away from Music Row. The obtrusive sound blowing in from the opened window. Ugh, sometimes I missed the quiet back home. "Maybe if we write something about whiskey, a horn blowing, and getting fucked over and slap Jagger's name on it, the label will pay attention instead of trying to get me to sing some god-awful duet with-" I broke off, because my best friend threw a cherry Jolly Rancher at me. "Hey!"

"Stop complaining and use it. The Universe isn't that cruel. Yes, the misogyny in this damn city is thriving, but there are so many women pushing back from a position of power that the crazy train of the boys club and men trying to suppress the feminine voice are dwindling down to something that's scaring them all," she drawled. "So, enjoy your damn Jolly Rancher and write something, dammit. Maybe Hillary or Kelsea or Karen will invite us to one of their tropical island writing retreats one day. One line of heartbreak at a time."

"One line closer, huh?"

She nodded and popped another candy into her mouth. "Every bridge is a journey your heart takes to find your true home."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the warm fuzzy feeling spreading through me. My true home. With my music and my voice. "You are such a cheese ball alongside the best limoncello whiskey sour ever, Ains."

"Aw, Sky, my dearest, you are making me feel like I need to write a love song about how kick ass my best friend is so that one day, when you make it big, I can be in the front fucking row so you can see me sing along. And scream every bridge."

"Hell no, you will be up there, singing right beside me, as my special surprise guest. And the crowd is going to go wild." The dream. Home. With the people I loved. There was nothing I wanted more. Which was why I hated the trap I willingly signed on for, young and na?ve. A contract with all the bells and whistles and things a girl with stars in her eyes dreamed of while she wrote in her diaries every night. Things that shined so brightly they made her not see all the loopholes and legal bullshit the girl trapped for the past few years now knew about.

Shackled to a label that wouldn't let me record anything I wanted, and gave my songs to the popular artists after they butchered it until the songs were barely recognizable. My words bastardized and rearranged so much that every time I heard them, my stomach turned. The pit never-ending and gripping me so I could hardly breathe.

I glanced at the page she had been scribbling on for the past hour. "Anything good? Care to share with the rest of the class?"

Ainsley blushed, a rare sight, and tried to cover her page.

"What the hell is this?" She swatted my hands away, but not before I read the first few lines. "Ains! Are you writing all your sex experiences in a damn song?"

"Kinda sleep sexy times. No!!! I mean, not really. Just brainstorming."

Before she could react, I grabbed the notebook out of her hands. My eyes widened. "About…being tied up? Threesomes? What the hell is somnophilia?"

She snatched the notebook out of my hands. "It's like sex while you're asleep."

"Sounds awful. Or maybe like a crime." I wrinkled my nose. "Apocalyptic zombies?"

Ainsley rolled her eyes. "Not necrophilia, silly."

My jaw dropped, then I snapped my mouth shut. "Why the hell do you know all these ‘philias' for fuck's sake?"

"Google." She threw the notebook on the floor and wagged her hands in the air. "My brain is all whacked out over everything and I wrote…my sex bucket list. Well, a first draft, really."

Again with the jaw-drop-snapped-shut routine, this time with a half snort giggle. And no sentencing. Rinse, wash, repeat. Then the sentencing returned. "Wait, so I've been over here, trying to write-"

"And failing!"

"-a heart wrenching song that the label will never let me record, and you're writing a sex bucket list."

A shoulder lifted, then dropped. "You know how making lists sometimes gets my brain on the right track. So, I decided to, um, research. Then make a list. Well, more of a fuck-it list, because one, that term sounds so morbid, and two, who the hell needs societal norms defining our sexuality?"

"All this misogyny talk and girl songwriting bonding fantasy getaway is making you want to have a personal sexual revolution or something?" I bent over, picking up her hurled pen from the floor and tossed it back at her with a smirk. "Here, wouldn't want you to miss out on some random kink for your list coming into your brain and you not being able to write your favorite philia on your ‘fuck-it' list."

Her glare only made my smile grow wider. "You need to get laid worse than I do, Sky. At least I try to-"

"Charge your favorite charged up one-handed helper?"

"-find a human being to bang my brains out."

I stood and headed to the small kitchenette. The bag of kettle chips begged me to open them and drown my sorrows in carbs. Might have to eat the whole damn thing with how my self-pity was rearing its head. I opened the cabinet, grabbed a small ceramic bowl I found at a thrift shop and had to have because it was so colorful and fun and nothing like the matching sets I grew up around. Perfect, and just big enough to not be a meal of salty carb, yet slightly more satisfying than those small and pitiful snack sized bags. "Human beings are overrated. My happiness only depends on remembering to charge before our date. No false expectations or fake declarations to get in my pants, only to disappoint me. Because that happened more than I care to admit, Ains." Bowl in hand, I walked over to the couch, plopped down, and stuffed a few chips into my mouth.

"Oh, admit away. Cause heavens knows, my track record has been miserable and not filled with all the orgasmic fantasies-"

"Apparently you have an entire list of those fantasies to get out and find your perfect list obsessed men."

"Man, Sky. One man. Or two. Cause, damn, a throuple?"

I groaned. "Dear lord, after being in this city and dealing with all the men we have, I am so not into a throuple situation unless it's in my favorite romance novel."

"Fine. One man. But, how do you know what you like unless you research it or make a list? And then you can make sure you not only check it off, but you don't forget something later in the throes of passion." Ainsley grinned and unwrapped another hard candy, popped it into her mouth and moaned. "God, blue raspberry is so underrated."

"Still not as good as cherry." I countered, eating another chip. "Slightly above watermelon."

"And so above green apple." She made a face, her nose wrinkled as she chomped down on the Jolly Rancher. "Just saying, a list might help clear up some of this annoyance you have."

"Or maybe a good session with my reliable charged party will. Can we just write? Before I get up, eat the rest of the bag, and my ass grows even bigger."

"Oh, I have a few ideas. And I think you're going to like them." A mischievous grin spread across her face, and she flipped the page and began writing. "But, Sky?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry about the damn meeting. Or the label. Fuck them all. Just write. It doesn't matter if no one else hears what's in your heart. The point is to put it out into the Universe, and pray the right things come back to you."