I have no idea where I’m headed as I leave the house, dashing the hot tears from my cheeks. Somehow, I find myself at Kat’s. I don’t have many friends, but I met Kat through work, and we hit it off. We’re the same age and have similar interests, so it was inevitable that we would quickly become best friends.
Knowing she won’t hear me knocking, I text Kat from the car to let her know I’m outside. Kat has a hearing impairment following an infection when she was a child. She wears hearing aids, which help, and although she can speak, she mostly relies on lip-reading during conversation.
She’s had a rough time of it, having lost her parents a year ago in a car wreck while they were on vacation. They left the house to her and her older brother, who now lives in Colorado.
My phone beeps as Kat replies, urging me to come on in. I hop out of the car, my tears mixing with the fat blobs of rain that pepper my face as Kat throws open the front door.
“Maggie? What’s up?” my friend asks me with a concerned look.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Come in out of the rain,” she says, grabbing my arm and tugging me inside.
I follow her through to the kitchen, taking a seat at the table. Kat pours me a coffee from the pot she has brewing, adding sugar and plenty of milk, just the way I like it. She places it in front of me before taking a seat opposite.
“What’s up?” she asks, her brow furrowed.
Her kindness has fresh tears rolling down my cheeks. I tell her what happened back at the house. Kat knows about my crappy relationship with my mom, but I’ve never told anyone about the constant stream of men in her bed, some of whom have made inappropriate advances towards me over the years.
“Jesus, what a colossal asshole!” she snaps when I tell her about my run-in with Rupert or Ritchie or whatever the hell his name is. “And as for your mother…I can’t believe she’d say stuff like that to you!” Kat finishes in disgust.
I sigh. “Par for the course, sadly. I should’ve left years ago, but I can’t afford a place on my own, and I stupidly thought she needed me.” My throat closes up as I ponder my dim prospects.
Kat gives me a sympathetic smile. “You know, you should be writing music, not working in a clothing store. Why don’t you reach out to the band, tell them you’re the one who wrote ‘Better Than Me?’”
I laugh without humor. “I may have written it, but they’re the ones who brought it to life. Noah’s arrangement is genius. Theo’s guitar solo is pure magic. And we all know what happens when Tanner sings. Women’s panties spontaneously combust.”
“But it’s still your lyrics, your original song,” Kat points out.
“Yeah, but they don’t know that. They’d never believe me now.”
Kat frowns. “You have evidence, though, right?”
I nod. “Yeah. I have the recording I made of it with a timestamp. I have the email I sent to the management company.”
“Maggie, if you have the proof, you’re due royalties,” Kat says urgently, emphasizing her words with sign language.
“It’s not that easy, Kat,” I sigh, pushing to my feet and pacing the kitchen.
“Why not?”
I turn back to face her so she can see my mouth. “They’re in New York, for a start. That’s like, four hours from here.”
“I’m not suggesting you drive there and try to break in, Maggie. But you can reach out to their management company. Tell them you have the copyright and want to set up a meeting with them.”
“Already tried that. Never heard back and didn’t have the money to pursue it.”
“You need to try again,” Kat urges. “Put yourself first, for once. Don’t let fear of rejection hold you back. You’ve had enough of that in your life. You have to make things happen, not sit back and hope they fall into your lap.”
I’m a nobody. Just some girl who entered a competition when I was seventeen. Hearing Triple Threat singing my lyrics during their televised music concert last year later was a huge shock.
I’m twenty-one. My whole life should be spread out in front of me like some golden adventure. But between my father’s death, my mother’s careless attitude, and the strain of trying to keep a roof over our heads, I already feel jaded and cynical beyond my years.
But something Kat said has me thinking. It’s a crazy idea. Ridiculous. Impossible. But I have to try once more before I give up and settle for the mundane.