"This is stupid," Peggy pouted.
"I know," Shane sighed. "But just try to grin and bear it. It won't be that bad."
"That bad?" Peggy looked down her nose at him. "How can the audience believe that we're singing a love song when even we don't believe it?"
"Because people are stupid sometimes!" Shane groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "We're not writing the new 'Islands in the Stream' or anything, Peggy. It's just a song for Connect Three's second album, okay?"
"Fine," Peggy huffed, flipping her hair irritably. "But still I'm not writing a love song because I'm not in love with you, or anyone for that matter. I can't write something that's not me."
"But the label wants…"
"Shane, if the label wants you to sing a love song then get them to sign Mitchie so you can record This Is Me. But I'm not Mitchie and I'm not in love so I'm not going to write you a love song!"
"Alright!" Shane exclaimed in frustration. "Then what do you suggest?"
"We can cover an old duet," Peggy shrugged.
"Hmm," Shane responded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Peggy bit her lip and racked her brain for a classic duet that didn't have anything to do with love or relationships. Only one immediately sprang to mind, and a cheeky grin spread over her face as she sang softly under her breath. "Yeah we're gonna bop bop bop, bop to the top!"
Shane glanced at her in bewildered dismay, but once he realised she was joking, he cracked a wide smile. "For sure, Peggy, for sure."
They pondered over a few more ideas for covers, before ultimately deciding that they wouldn't be able to pull any of them off anyway.
"Ugh!' Peggy moaned, leaning back in her chair and throwing her ballpoint down in disgust. "This is hopeless. Music should not be this hard!"
"It didn't used to be," Shane muttered quietly, mostly to himself. Peggy sat up and leaned in closer to hear. "It used to be just me and my guitar and the truth. But everything I write today is so suppressed and overanalysed and hyper-produced that nothing I come up with is good enough anymore."
"That's not true," Peggy protested. "I Gotta Find You and Play My Music are great!"
"Yeah, but that was just raw sound, in the spur of the moment stuff. Wait until out producer gets his teeth sunk into it. I'll have to change words and rewrite bridges and it won't be my song anymore," Shane frowned and scribbled on his notepad so hard he tore through the top layer of paper.
"So don't let him do it," Peggy whispered like it was the simplest thing in the world.
Shane shot her a look of pity for her naivety.
"That's not how it works in this industry, Peggy," he sighed. "The label doesn't care about artistic merit or individuality. They care about album sales and merchandise. They care about what will increase their profit margin by the highest percentage."
"And they don't think that your music will do that?" Peggy's brow wrinkled trying to comprehend it all.
"Oh, they have no doubt my music can do that," Shane scoffed. "You know what our manager says to us before we play every show? 'You hear all those screaming girls, boys? That's the sound of money being made!' I'm pretty sure our fans will buy any old crap they put out."
Peggy's nodded along compliantly, but she still didn't understand why Shane couldn't just play his music if the label thought it would sell. She asked him just that.
Shane rolled his eyes. "Because they're not willing to take the risk and destroy the sound they've made for us. They'd rather take their chances with our cookie-cutter-popstar crap than try and fail with our new music. And they expect Nate, Jason and I to keep writing so they can compartmentalize it into something that will make them a turnover."
"That's horrible," Peggy gasped. She'd feel sick to her stomach if someone took her heart and soul and transformed into something that didn't even sound like her.
"I know," Shane grimaced. "That's why we're supposed to be writing a love song. Something that the fangirls can imagine we're singing to them, something that they can yell along to at the top of their lungs. Something that will make them fall to their knees and worship the ground we stand on. They need a new song like a new religion."
"What was that?" Peggy's head snapped up. "That was really good!"
"Huh?" Shane stared at her incredulously.
Peggy snatched away the notepad from under his elbow and picked up her pen, flipping over the inky, tattered page to a fresh leaf and scribbling madly on it while mumbling under her breath. "New… song… new… religion."
"Peggy, what are you doing?" Shane looked at the sentence that she had scrawled across the paper.
"I just thought they'd make some good lyrics," she shrugged, suddenly self-conscious about what Shane would think of her song-writing ability.
He frowned scrutinisingly, before appreciation dawned upon his face. "Yeah. That's good, Peggy. That's really good. You got anything else?"
She nibbled her lower lip in contemplation. "Um, yeah. Heaps. It's all a jumble of emotion in my head, but I don't know how to put it into words."
"Okay then," Shane sat forward excitedly, sensing they were onto something. "How do you feel about trying to express something you haven't experienced, like a love song?"
"It's like…" Peggy squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think of the right metaphor. "Like… I'm trying to do long division. The logic's there, but I just can't do the math."
"Great!" Shane nodded animatedly. "Get it down! Write it all out!"
Peggy grinned at the genuine enthusiasm in his voice, and immediately got to work, jotting down every sentence that popped into her head. Only when she reached the bottom of the paper did she look up and shyly slide the pad over to Shane so he could read it.
"Wow, Peggy, this is…" Shane trailed off as his eyes lingered over the words on the page.
"Apathetic?" she suggested. "Uninspiring? Mediocre?"
"No," Shane shook his head. "None of those things. You have a way with words, Peggy, you really do. I can practically feel what you're trying to say."
"Really?" she wrinkled her nose and snatched the notepad back, glancing briefly over the clutter. "I dunno, I'd probably only use a couple of these lines in a song."
"What?" Shane exclaimed, snatching it back. "But this is so amazing! You have to use all of it!"
Peggy blushed and looked down at the table, reaching out and gathering the pad into her arms, clutching it to her chest. "I'll probably use all of it some day. Just not all in the same song. Do you know how many spiral exercise books I have at home practically overflowing with stuff like this? I write down everything that impacts me so I don't forget how it made me feel. And none of it makes any sense, but I record it all so maybe one day I'll think of a melody that is true to the words. That's how I write a song."
Shane just stared at her, and her cheeks darkened considerably under his intense gaze. "Margaret Dupree, you are full of surprises."
"And I like to think the best of me is still hiding up my sleeve," she grinned, standing and stretching her stiff legs. "I'm taking a break. You coming?"
Shane stood, but shook his head, reaching out and plucking the notebook from Peggy's tight embrace. "You go. Leave this here. Don't show it to anyone from the label."
"Why not?" Peggy looked insulted.
"We're writing for Connect Three, remember?" Shane rolled his eyes. "If they see how good you are, they'll make sure to keep you around to churn out music that they can second guess and pigeonhole until you've practically written our album for us. Hell, all they'd really need me and the guys for would be to stand there and look pretty."
Peggy giggled, but then remembered why he offended her. "So you don't want me to write with you at all?"
"No, Peggy, I can't stop you from doing what you're good at," Shane sighed. "Just… I don't want to see your music turn into Connect Three's same old sound."
"But have you heard of this girl called Peggy Dupree? She's new on the scene. Peggy Dupree hasn't been assigned a sound yet," she grinned, winking at him.
His face contorted in confusion for a split second, before he understood what she meant and mirrored her elated expression. "You're soundless."
"Technically, yeah," Peggy nodded. "And I'm not going to let some overpaid, overweight, overexposed producer tell me how my music should sound."
Shane's chest swelled in pride at her fierce attitude, but an uneasy feeling was brewing in the pit of his stomach.
"It's not easy, Peggy," he warned. "I mean, Nate and Jason and I tried everything in our power to stop our music from going through the meat-grinder, but we lost out in the end. Be careful."
Peggy nodded uncertainly, and opened her mouth as if to ask a question, but decided against it at the last second and snapped it shut again.
"What?" Shane smirked, noticing her odd behaviour.
"Will you help?" Peggy blurted out, and instantly looked mortified.
"Help with what?" Shane asked, scratching his head uncertainly.
"Nothing, forget it," Peggy muttered, turning to leave the room.
"No, tell me!' Shane jumped up and ran around the table to stop her. "What do you want help with?"
"My sound," Peggy sighed, grabbing a lock of hair and twisting it nervously. "Will you help me make sure that it's actually my sound, and not some record label-produced garbage?"
Shane smiled, and her whole body immediately loosened up in relief. The moment he agreed Peggy knew that everything was going to be just fine. It wasn't what she expected, but then again, since when does anything in life ever turn out the way you expect?
A/N: Stay tuned for part two.