"Sunday morning, rain is fallin'. Steal some covers, share some skin. Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable; you twist to fit the mold that I am in. But things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do. And I would gladly hit the road, get up and go if I knew that someday it would lead me back to you. That someday it would lead me back to you." I held the giant headphones tighter to my ear and let the sweet, soft melody carry me through my song.
"That may be all I need. In darkness, he is all I see. Come and rest your bones with me. Driving slow on Sunday morning, and I never want to leave." My voice carried the note out and stopped, waiting for my next queue.
"Fingers trace your every outline. Paint a picture with my hands. Back and forth we sway like branches in a storm. Change the weather, still together when it ends." Then I sang my perfect chorus again, letting it guide me to my bridge.
"But things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do. Sunday morning, rain is falling and I'm calling out to you. Singing, 'Someday, it'll bring me back to you.' Find a way to bring myself back home to you." And I finished with my last chorus.
This song was written for ex-boyfriend #10. He was a very romantic fella, made me feel amazing, yet I felt as if there was something missing there. He was always pulling me away from my music, which is basically my entire life. I worked for three years straight, through sun and rain, scraped and cleaned, did everything I could, to afford my own recording studio in the basement of my beloved mother's room. I've got microphones, all the gadgets to mix a beat, various instruments and decorated it all myself.
What most people find hard to believe is the fact that I write all my own songs. I spit out at least one song every week, sometimes two weeks. I record all my own songs, play my own instruments, make my own beats and write my own lyrics. I've always had an aspiration for music, and I don't intend on giving it up anytime soon, especially not for a sappy boy.
Just as I was about to flip off my video camera, I heard Fankie stomping down the stairs towards me. Thank the Lord; he was holding a plate of cookies. "Mamma made a couple batches." He told me, popping two of the bite-sized sugar cookies into his greedy mouth.
"Excuse me; first of all, she is my mother, not yours. And second, share the wealth, moron." I told him, flipping my waist-length black hair over my shoulder. Tossing a few cookies in the air towards me, I caught them and fell back into my computer chair. "What brings you here this fine afternoon, Lachowski?"
"You're not going to believe me if I told you." He huffed and shook his head of blonde locks.
I bit into one of my mother's famous melt-in-your-mouth cookies and smiled. "Just spit it out." I told him, turning to face my computer screen jam-packed with different screens – ranging from the video I just took, to the levels of my voice, and my sound-editing software.
"Shania's moving away." Frankie beamed and placed the platter of cookies onto the glass cocktail table in the center of the room.
"Oh, yeah? She's been saying the exact same thing since seventh grade. What makes it so different now?" I questioned, my green eyes scanned over the computer monitor, concentrating on not blowing this song to bits.
Frankie grabbed a seat on the plush black chenille sofa and hugged one of the black and ivory pillows to his side. "I saw the moving trucks on my way over." He chuckled.
It took me a couple beats to process what was happening. My mortal enemy was moving somewhere other than here. I would never have to see her again. I could live my life happily without worrying about her fucking it up again. And in a flash, I was on Frankie's lap, hugging him as hard as I could and kissing anywhere I could on his face.
"This is so perfect, Frankie!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms out. His arms stayed wrapped around me and he rested his hands on the dimples on my lower back.
"I know." He chuckled, his perfect teeth peaking from behind his pink lips. "Will you finally relax now, Terri? She's not going to come near you ever again; as long as I can help it, at least." He said softly, resting his forehead against mine. This made my heart swell. The way my best friend treated me like a girlfriend was perfect for me. Proved that we only needed each other, as sappy as it sounds.
"I'll try and relax. Sorry I've been so tense lately." I said sweetly, climbing off his lap and plopped down on the stiff black chenille loveseat.
"Hey, I can't blame you. I'd be pretty pissed if a bitch almost got me arrested." He shrugged, shoving another two cookies into his mouth. Visions of red and blue lights invaded my mind, the sound of chaos and my mother's screams filled my ears and the nightmares I've been trying to forget, washed over me.
"Goddammit, Frankie, you really know how to ruin the mood." I huffed and returned to work.
"One Venti Caramel Frap, coming right up!" I said loudly, frantically throwing ice and flavored caffeine into a blender, setting it to grind. I huffed, leaning back against the solid counter, waiting for it to finish. We're completely deserted today. Something about Thursdays, they're not very popular for people wanting coffee. Only the occasional teenager wanting to feel important, purchasing overpriced beverages.
I handed her the chilled drink and watched her ghetto booty strut out of the empty café. "It ain't my first time, baby boy, we can pretend. Let's bump and grind, boy tonight we'll never end." I sang quietly. That being a song I've been working on, and not having the lady balls to actually record it.
The small television on the other end of the room showed old re-runs of House of Bieber from about half a year back. It was just like Jersey Shore, in my opinion, because they just stuck cameras around his house and planned a bunch of drama. Real cliché shit. He was fighting with Selena again. Rumor has it; they broke up right after this show went on the air. Justin was saying that it was the press's fault that they broke up, since it made Selena look like the bad guy, causing her to blame him.
Whatever. Rich people problems. The only reason I ever watched his show was to see his house. I mean, that place is huge. And I've only seen it on a small TV up in my room. Speaking of my room, when's my shift over?
I lay in my bed, watching old re-runs of Criminal Minds and eating some popcorn. The television sent blue and white tones flickering to my wall and making my eyelids heavy. Out of the blue, my phone started buzzing. I sighed and cleared my throat before pressing my thumb to the "Accept Call" button and brought it to the side of my face.
"Terri speaking." I said in my worn voice.
"Terri, hi, uh, this is Justin Bieber." I heard a raspy voice say on the other end.
Did he just say what I thought he said? Terri, you gotta lay off the alcohol before bed.
"Excuse me?" I asked with a light laugh. "Frankie, is this you? You brat, leave me alone."
I heard a chuckle on the other end that was definitely not my best friend's. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm the real deal." He said. "I just, uh, I saw your videos a couple days ago and I talked to my manager. He got your number and stuff, and I was just wondering if you'd like to come down to LA for a small meeting or something?"
The casualty in his voice made my brain burst into goo. Hey, yeah, wanna just come down to LA like a plane ticket doesn't cost over a thousand dollars?
I sighed. "Plane tickets are expensive guy-who-claims-to-be-Justin-Bieber." I told him.
"I'm willing to pay for the ticket and everything." He was about to say something else, and he paused. "You could even stay at my house until you find a residence around here." He offered.
I sighed again. "You're serious." I said.
"One hundred percent." He said.
"Um, Justin, I really do want to go down there and all, but my mom is very stubborn. She's lived in this house since she was a little girl, and it's hard enough trying to get her to cook something other than meat loaf on a Sunday night." I sitting upright now, listening hard for his reply.
"My manager's going to call your mother tomorrow and talk things over and tell her everything. I just wanted to know if you were interested in becoming a part of this circus." He said, his voice as soft as could be.
"Um, sure thing, Justin." I yawned. "Now if you'll excuse me, it's one in the morning here in Canada." I told him and hung up the phone. One hell of a prank call.