Chapter Three

Jennie

If she hated them, the least she could have done was send a thank you. I know it shouldn't bother me, but it does. Especially because I never wanted to send them to her in the first place. I wasn't expecting her to praise me, but the fact that she begged so hard for them and then just ignored them sort of irritates me.

And she hasn't been outside at her usual time in almost a week. I've wanted to text her about it so many times, but if I do, then it'll seem as if I care what she thinks of the lyrics. I don't want to care. But I can tell by how disappointed I feel that I do care. I hate that I want her to like my lyrics. But the thought of actually having a hand in a song is a little bit exciting.

"Food should be here in a little while. I'm going to get the clothes out of the dryer," Krystal says. She opens the front door, and I perk up on the couch when I hear the familiar sound of the guitar from outside. She closes the door behind her, and as much as I want to ignore it, I rush to my room and quietly slide out onto the balcony, books in hand. If I sink far enough into my chair, she might not notice I'm out here.

But she's looking straight at my balcony when I step outside. She doesn't acknowledge me with a smile or even a nod of her head when I take my seat. She just continues playing, and it makes me curious to see if she's just going to pretend our conversation last week never happened. I sort of hope so, because I'd like to pretend it never happened.

She plays the familiar songs, and it doesn't take me long to let go of my embarrassment over the fact that she thought my lyrics were stupid. I tried to warn her.

I finish up my homework while she's still playing, close my books and lean back, and close my eyes. It's quiet for a minute, and then she begins playing the song I sent her lyrics for. In the middle of the song, the guitar pauses for several seconds, but I refuse to open my eyes. She continues playing just as my phone vibrates with an incoming text.

Lisa: You're not singing.

I glance at her, and she's staring at me with a grin. She looks back down at her guitar and watches her hands as she finishes the song. Then she picks up her phone and sends another text.

Lisa: Do you want to know what I thought of the lyrics?

Me: No, I'm pretty positive I know what you thought. It's been a week since I sent them to you. No worries. I told you they were stupid.

Lisa: Yeah, sorry about the silence. I had to leave town for a few days. Family emergency.

I don't know if she's telling the truth, but the fact that she claims she's been out of town eases my fear that she hasn't been out on her balcony because of me.

Me: Everything okay?

Lisa: Yep.

Me: Good.

Lisa: I'm only going to say this once, Jennie. Are you ready?

Me: Oh, God. No. I'm turning off my phone.

Lisa: I know where you live.

Me: Fine.

Lisa: You're incredible. Those lyrics. I can't even describe to you how perfect they are for the song. How in the hell does that come out of you? And why can't you see that you need to LET it come out of you? Don't hold it in. You're doing the world a huge disservice with your modesty. I know I agreed not to ask you for more, but that was because I really didn't expect to get what I got from you. I need more. Give me, give me, give me.

I let out a huge breath. Until this moment, I didn't realize exactly how much her opinion mattered. I can't look up at her yet. I continue to stare at my phone for much longer than it takes me to read the text. I don't even text her back, because I'm still relishing the compliment. If she said she loved it, I would have accepted her opinion with relief, and I would have moved on. But the words she just texted were like stairs stacked one on top of the other, and each compliment was like me running up each step until I reached the top of the damn world.

Holy crap. I think this one text just gave me enough confidence to send her another song. I never would have predicted this. I never imagined I would be excited.

"Food's here," Krystal says. "You want to eat out here?"

I tear my gaze away from the phone and look at her. "Uh. Yeah. Sure."

Krystal brings the food out to the balcony. "I've never really looked at that one before, but damn," she says, staring hard at Lisa while she plays het guitar. "She's really hot, and I don't even like blonds."

"Her hair isn't blond. It's brown."

"No, that's blond," she says. "But it's dark blond, so that's okay, I guess. Almost brown, maybe. I like the messy shag, and that body makes up for the fact that her hair isn't black." Krystal takes a drink and leans back in her chair, still staring at him. "Maybe I'm being too picky. What do I care what color her hair is? It'll be dark when I have my hands in it, anyway."

I shake my head. "She's really talented," I say. I still haven't responded to her text, but she doesn't seem to be waiting around. She's watching her hands as she plays, not paying a bit of attention to us.

"I wonder if she's single," Krystal says. "I'd like to see what other talents she has."

I have no idea if she's single, but the way Krystal is thinking about her makes my stomach turn. Krystal is incredibly cute, and I know she could find out if she had other talents if she really wanted to. She tends to get whomever she wants l. I've never really minded until now.

"You don't want to be involved with a musician," I say, as if I have any experience that would qualify me to give her advice. "Besides, I'm pretty sure Lisa does have a girlfriend. I saw a girl on her patio with her a few weeks ago." That's technically not a lie. I did see one once.

Krystal glances at me. "You know her name? How do you know her name?"

I shrug as if it's no big deal. Because, honestly, it is no big deal. "She needed help with lyrics last week, so I texted her some."

Krystal sits up in her chair. "You know her phone number?"

I suddenly become defensive, not liking the accusatory tone in her voice. "Calm down, Krystal. I don't even know her. All I did was text her a few lyrics."

She laughs. "I'm not judging, Jen," she says, holding up her hands in defense. "I don't care how much you love Kai, if you have an opening with that"—she flicks her hand in Lisa's direction—"I'd be livid if you didn't take advantage of it."

I roll my eyes. "You know I'd never do that to Kai."

She sighs and leans back in her chair. "Yeah. I know."

We're both looking at Lisa when she finishes the song. She picks up her phone and types something, then picks up her guitar just as my phone vibrates and she begins to play another song.

Krystal reaches for my phone, but I grab it first and hold it out of her reach. "That's from her, isn't it?" she says. I read the text.

Lisa: When Barbie goes away, I want more.

I cringe, because there's no way I'm letting Krystal read this text. For one thing, Lisa insulted her. Also, the second part of her text would have an entirely different meaning if she read it. I hit delete and press the power button down to lock my phone in case she snatches it away from me.

"You're flirting," she says teasingly. She picks up her empty plate and stands up. "Have fun with your sexting."

Ugh. I hate that she thinks I'd ever do that to Kai. I'll worry about setting her straight later, though. In the meantime, I take out my notebook and find the page with the lyrics I wrote to the song she's currently playing. I transfer them to a text, hit send, and hurry back inside.

"That was so good," I say as I place my plate in the sink. "That's probably my favorite Italian restaurant." I walk to the couch and fall down next to Krystal, trying to appear casual about the fact that she thinks I'm cheating on Kai. The more defensive I get about it, the less likely she'll be to believe me when I try to deny it.

"Oh, my God, that reminds me," she says. "The funniest thing happened a couple of weeks ago at this Italian restaurant. I was eating lunch with . . . my mom, and we were out on the patio. Our waiter was telling us about dessert, when all of a sudden, this cop car comes screeching around the corner, sirens blaring . . ."

I'm holding my breath, scared to hear the rest of her story.

What the hell? Kai said he was with a coworker. The odds of them both being at the same restaurant, without being there together, is way more than coincidental.

But why would they lie about being together?

My heart is folding in on itself. I think I'm gonna be sick.

How could they . . .

"Jen? Are you okay?" Krystal is looking at me with genuine concern. "You look like you're about to be sick."

I put my hand over my mouth, because I'm afraid she might be right. I can't answer her right away. I can't even work up the strength to look at her. I try to still my hand, but I can feel it trembling against my mouth.

Why would they be together and not tell me? They're never together without me. They'd have no reason to be together unless they were planning something.

Planning something.

Oh.

Wait a second.

I press my palm against my forehead and shake my head back and forth. I feel as if I'm in the midst of the stupidest moment in all of my nearly twenty-two years of existence. Of course they were together. Of course they're hiding something. It's my birthday next Saturday.

Not only do I feel incredibly stupid for having believed they would do something like that to me, but I feel unforgivably guilty.

"You okay?" Krystal says.

I nod. "Yeah." I decide not to mention the fact that I know she was with Kai. I would feel even worse if I ruined their surprise. "I think the Italian food is just making me a little nauseated. I'll be right back." I stand and walk to my bedroom, then sit on the edge of my bed in order to regain my bearings. I'm filled with a mixture of doubt and guilt. Doubt, because I know neither of them would do what I briefly thought they had done. Guilt, because for a brief moment, I actually believed they were capable of it.

Lisa

I was hoping the first set of lyrics wasn't a fluke, but after seeing the second set she sent me and adding them to the music, I text Bambam. I can't not tell him about her any longer.

Me: I'm about to send you two songs. I don't even need you to tell me what you think of them, because I know you'll love them. So let's move past that, because I need you to solve a dilemma for me.

Bambam: Oh, shit. I was just kidding about the Irene thing. You didn't really dump her for inspiration did you?

Me: I'm being serious. I found a girl who I'm positive was brought to this earth specifically for us.

Bambam: Sorry, man. I'm not into that shit. I mean, maybe if you weren't my sister, but still.

Me: Stop with the horseshit, Bambam. Her lyrics. They're perfect. And they come so effortlessly to her. I think we need her. I haven't been able to write songs like these since . . . well, ever. Her lyrics are perfect, and you need to take a look at them, because I sort of need you to love them and agree to buy them from her.

Bambam: What the hell, Lisa? We can't hire someone to write lyrics for us. She'll want a percentage of the royalties, and between the two of us and the guys in the band, it won't be worth it.

Me: I'm going to ignore that until you check the e-mail I just sent you.

I put my phone down and pace the room, giving him time to take a look at what I just sent him. My heart is pounding, and I'm sweating, even though it's not at all hot in this room. I just can't take his telling me no, because I'm scared that if we can't use her, I'll be facing another six months of a concrete wall.

After several minutes, my phone vibrates. I drop to my bed and pick it up.

Bambam: Okay. See what she's willing to take, and let me know.

I smile and toss the phone into the air and feel like yelling. After I calm down enough to text her, I pick up my phone and think. I don't want to freak her out, because I know she's completely new to this kind of thing.

Me: I was wondering if we could talk sometime soon? I have a proposition for you. And get your mind out of the gutter, it's completely music-related.

Jennie: Okay. I can't say I'm looking forward to it, because it makes me nervous. You want me to call you when I get off work?

Me: You work?

Jennie: Yes. Campus library. Morning shift mostly, except for this weekend.

Me: Oh. I guess that's why I never noticed. I don't usually get out of bed until after lunch.

Jennie: So do you want me to call you after I get home?

Me: Just text me. You think we can meet up sometime this weekend?

Jennie: Probably, but I'd have to talk to my boyfriend. Don't want him to find out and think you're using me for more than my lyrics.

Me: K. Sounds good.

Jennie: If you want, you could come to my birthday party tomorrow night. Might be easier, because he'll be here.

Me: It's your birthday tomorrow? Happy early birthday. And that sounds good. What time?

Jennie: Not sure. I'm not supposed to know about it. I'll just text you tomorrow night once I find out more.

Me: K.

Honestly, I don't like the fact that her boyfriend might be there. I want to talk to her about it alone, because I still haven't decided what to do about what I know is going on between that asshole and her roommate. But I need her to agree to help me before her heart gets shattered, so maybe my silence has been a little selfish. I do admire the fact that she wants to be honest with him, even though he doesn't deserve it. Which makes me think maybe this is something I should bring up to Irene, even though it never occurred to me before that it might even remotely be an issue.

Me: Hey. How's my girl?

Irene: Busy. This thesis is kicking my ass. How about you?

Me: Good. Really good. I think Bambam and I found someone who's willing to write lyrics with us. She's really good, and I've already finished almost two songs since you left last weekend.

Irene: Lisa, that's great! I can't wait to read them. Maybe next weekend?

Me: You coming here, or am I going to you?

Irene: I'll come there. I need to spend some time at the nursing home. Love you.

Me: Love you. Don't forget our video chat tonight.

Irene: You know I won't. Already have my outfit picked out.

Me: That better be a cruel joke. You know I don't care to see clothes.

Irene: ;)

Eight more hours.

I'm hungry.

I toss the phone aside. I pull open my bedroom door and take a step back when the shit that's been piled up on the other side begins to fall in on me. First it's the lamp, then the end table it was resting on, then the end table the lamp and the other end table were piled on top of.

Dammit, Bobby.

These pranks are starting to get out of hand. I press my arm into the couch that's been shoved up against my bedroom door. I push it back out into the living room and jump over it, then head toward the kitchen.

• • •

I carefully spoon toothpaste onto an Oreo, then replace the top of the cookie and gently squeeze it. I put it back into the package with the rest of Bobby's Oreos and seal the package shut, just as my phone vibrates.

Jennie: Can you do me a favor?

She has no idea how many favors I'd do for her right now. I'm pretty much at her mercy.

Me: What's up?

Jennie: Can you look out your balcony door and tell me if you see anything suspicious going on at my apartment?

Shit. Does she know? What does she want me to tell her? I know it's selfish, but I really don't want to tell her about her boyfriend until after I have the chance to talk to her about the lyrics.

Me: Okay. Hold on.

I walk to my balcony and glance across the courtyard. I don't see anything out of the ordinary. It's almost dark, though, so I can't see much. I'm not sure what she wants me to find, so I choose not to be too descriptive when I respond.

Me: Looks quiet.

Jennie: Really? Are the blinds open? You don't see people?

I look again. The blinds are open, but the only thing I can see from here is the glare from the TV.

Me: Doesn't look like anyone's home. Aren't you having a birthday party later tonight?

Jennie: I thought so. I'm really confused.

There's movement in one of the windows, and I see her roommate going into the living room. Jennie's boyfriend follows closely behind her, and they both sit on the couch, but all I can see is their feet.

Me: Wait. Your boyfriend and your roommate just sat on the couch.

Jennie: Okay. Sorry to bother you.

Me: Wait. What about tonight? Are you still having a birthday party?

Jennie: I don't know. Kai says he's taking me out to eat as soon as I get home from work, but I sort of thought it was a lie. I know he and Krystal had lunch together a couple of weeks ago, but they don't know I know. They were obviously planning something, and I assumed it was a surprise party, but tonight's the only night that could happen.

I wince. She actually caught them in a lie, and she thought they were together because they were planning something nice for her. Christ. I don't even know the guy, and I have a huge urge to walk over there and beat the shit out of him.

It's her birthday. I can't tell her on her birthday. I take a deep breath, then decide to text Irene for advice.

Me: Question. You busy?

Irene: Nope. Shoot.

Me: If it was your birthday and someone you knew found out I was cheating on you, would you want to know right then? Or would you hope that person would wait to tell you until it was no longer your birthday?

Irene: If this is a hypothetical question, I'm going to kill you for this heart attack. If it's not hypothetical, I'm going to kill you for this heart attack.

Me: You know it's not me. It's not your birthday. ;)

Irene: Who's cheating on whom?

Me: It's Jennie's birthday today. The girl I was telling you about who writes the lyrics. I happen to know her boyfriend is cheating on her, and I'm kind of in a position where I should tell her because she's becoming suspicious.

Irene: Jesus. I'd hate to be you right now. But if she's suspicious and you know for a fact that he's cheating, you need to tell her, Lisa. If you don't say anything, you're inadvertently lying.

Me: Ugh! That's what I thought you'd say.

Irene: Good luck. I'm still going to kill you for the heart attack next weekend.

I sit on the bed, then start a text to Jennie.

Me: I'm not sure how to say this, Jennie. You're not driving right now, are you?

Jennie: Oh, jeez. There are people there, aren't there? Lots of them?

Me: No, there isn't anyone there but the two of them. First, I need to apologize for not telling you this sooner. I didn't know how, because we don't know each other that well. Second, I'm sorry for doing it on your birthday, of all days, but I feel like an ass for even waiting this long. And third, I'm sorry you have to find out via text, but I don't want you to have to walk back into your apartment without knowing the truth first.

Jennie: You're scaring me, Lisa.

Me: I'm just going to rip the Band-Aid off, okay? Something has been going on between your roommate and your boyfriend for a while.

I hit send and close my eyes, knowing I'm completely ruining her birthday. If not pretty much every day after today, too.

Jennie: Lisa, they've been friends for longer than I've even known Kai. I think you've misinterpreted everything.

Me: If sticking your tongue down someone's throat while straddling him is friendship, then I'm sorry. But I'm positive I'm not misinterpreting anything. It's been going on for weeks. I'm assuming they come out to the patio while you're in the shower, because they're never out there long. But it happens a lot.

Jennie: If you're being honest, why didn't you tell me when we first started talking?

Me: How does one comfortably say this to another person, Jennie? When is there ever an appropriate time? I'm telling you now because you're becoming suspicious, and it's as appropriate a time as it can be.

Jennie: Please tell me you have a warped sense of humor, because you have no idea what you're doing to my heart right now.

Me: I'm sorry, Jennie. Really.

I wait patiently for a response. She doesn't text me back. I contemplate texting her, but I know she needs time to absorb this.

Dammit, I'm such an asshole. Now she'll probably be pissed at me, but I can't blame her. I guess I can kiss the lyrics good-bye.

My door swings open, and Bobby barges in, then hurls a cookie straight at me. I duck, and it hits the headboard behind me.

"Asshole!" Bobby yells. He turns and marches back out of the bedroom and slams the door.