A man stumbled onto the sidewalk in front of me, narrowly avoiding a collision. His breath was thick with the smell of alcohol from the bar next store and I scowled as I made my way past him.
I fumbled with the keys to my apartment, my bag bouncing at my side as I made my way up the three flights of stairs to our door. Stepping through the doorway, I heard a voice call from another room:
"If you're a crazy axe murderer can you finally gonna take me out?"
"That depends," I called back , tossing my keys on the counter, "is this a murder suicide situation or more of a wine and dine?"
A couple of shuffling sounds and footsteps later, my roommate Elodie appeared in front of me. She leaned her slim frame against the doorway, watching as I popped open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine she had purchased the day before.
"Long day?" She asked, "Or is there another reason you're pouring a whole winery into that glass?"
I turned to face her, my now full glass of wine in hand. Despite my terrible mood, my lips tilted up at the sight of my beautiful roommate. Her dark curly hair was piled messily on top of her head and a pair of glasses sat crookedly on her nose. Her big brown eyes looked tired, she must have been studying before I got home.
Elodie was getting a degree in mechanical engineering from UCLA. Not only was she the smartest person I had ever met, but also the only one willing to let a broke kid from South Carolina move in with her.
"I swear to god if one more group of girls comes in to take pictures with the records, then leaves without buying something I'm going to kill someone." I grumbled, taking a sip from the glass in my hand. "And I'm not kidding when I tell you that someone asked me who Fleetwood Mac is and whether he still makes music."
"Okay so working at the record store sucks sometimes, beats waitressing or dealing with coffee snobs at the cafe like I do." Elodie replies, "Today someone asked me for a latte with extra milk. How do you even put extra milk in something that is entirely milk?"
I laughed, kicking off my scuffed boots and throwing myself dramatically into one of the mismatched chairs we had thrifted for our kitchen table.
"Just think," Elodie continued, "in a few months it won't matter because your name will be in lights at SoFi while you sell out stadiums and I'll be eating sushi backstage with Taylor Swift."
"Ellie," I started, trying to avoid rolling my eyes at her relentless optimism, "I've lived in LA for six months now and all I have to show for it is a song with a couple hundred streams, a minimum wage job dealing with girls who make more money than me just by posting a picture, and a bank account that is almost always overdrawn. I don't think I'm going to be selling out stadiums anytime soon."
She scoffed, blatantly ignoring me as she removed a plastic wrapped plate from the fridge and set it pointedly in front of me. When I first moved in Ellie noticed I was skipping meals because I didn't know if I would make rent. Ever since she has made sure I ate three times a day, no exceptions.
"Stevie, you're the most talented songwriter I've ever met-"
"I'm the only songwriter you've ever met."
"Okay and? You're talented Stevie, all you have to do is go for it and before we know it you're going to be taking the world by storm."
I unpeeled the plastic from the plate carefully and took a bite, letting out a sigh. Elodie meant well, all she wanted was for me to believe in my music as much as she does. I just didn't know how else to go for it.
I had moved out to LA the second I graduated high school and practically threw myself into making music. Every second of the day that I wasn't working I was writing or recording. I'd spent every waking minute since the move playing gigs and sending demos out to labels around the city. Nothing had worked.
"How was school?" I asked, eager to talk about anything else, "Didn't you have that big test today?"
Elodie groaned.
"Don't even get me started! I've never done so bad on a test in my life. Who knew fluid mechanics could be so confusing?" She joked, though her lips remained downturned.
"That is so not true, remember the infamous Lit exam?"
"That's not fair!" She cried, "I'm an engineer, how am I supposed to know what the overarching themes of George Elliot are?"
I rolled my eyes, getting up to leave my now empty plate in the sink. It was full of other dishes I would have to do later, but there were other things on my mind.
"Alright Shakespeare, I'm off to write the next genre-defining album of our time. Recite me a sonnet for inspiration?"
Elodie leapt from her chair and bowed at me in that ridiculous and dramatic way of hers that had always made me think she should be an actress. A wild grin stretched across her face.
"As you wish my lady," She straightened and cleared her throat, "Stevie, so brave and kind, do us all a favor and get off your behind!"
Now making my way quickly to my door, I couldn't help the laugh that left me at her declaration.
"A beautiful song you'd write with class, if only you'd get off your-"
"Okay! Okay! I get it, I'm going." Her laughs continued from the kitchen as I shut my door behind me, a gentle smiling playing on my face.
It all but vanished when I noticed my laptop still open on my bed from this morning. I knew I'd have to check eventually, but part of me wanted to keep putting it off to avoid hurting myself further.
It took a moment to work up the nerve, but eventually I made my way to the bed and pushed the power button. Carefully, I went through the motions of pulling up all my music.
No new streams.
It may not have been a surprise, but it didn't stop the sting spreading through my chest at the sight. A sting that only grew worse as I checked my empty inbox, resigned at the lack of responses from the new round of record labels I had reached out to the month before.
My head flopped harshly against my pillow as I groaned in frustration, rubbing my palms against my eyes. My day was already terrible, might as well make it worse. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dialed my mother and waited for it to ring.
"You've reached Annabelle Carter, I can't get to the phone right now. Leave a message and I'll call you back." The machine beeped loudly in my ear, the same way it did every night.
"Hi mama," I said to the empty line, "You're probably still working, I miss you. Call me when you get the chance." The call ended with a click and I tossed my phone to the end of the bed.
Six months. Six months since I had seen my mom, since I had packed up all my stuff and left behind that little town. Now reality was kicking my butt.
My eyes flitted over to the beat up guitar sitting against the corner of my wall. It didn't look like much. Stickers sat tucked under the strings from when I was first learning to play, and the spot where I rested my hand was a shade lighter from use. In every way that mattered though, it was perfect.
No one got anywhere from sitting down, make it happen Stevie.
So I grabbed the guitar and started to play.
*****
Author's Note
Hey y'all , so I came back to this story a few months after posting the original concept and the character boards I had made. I'm having a lot of fun writing this right now, but I can't make any guarantees of updating consistently as I'm currently in university and very busy. I hope you're enjoying it so far!
-mk
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Crescendo
Teen Fiction"I don't know who you think you are," he rasped, "but we don't need you, and we don't want you here." He ran a hand through his dark curls, exposing his startling blue eyes. She raised her eyebrows, a smirk adorning her face. She watched his express...
