Broken Record

Chapter 2: Stevie

"Stevie! Put the freaking computer down for five seconds. This is my wedding day we are talking about! My. Wedding. Day. Once in a lifetime." Stevie's older sister, Oliva, scolded her with piercing green eyes. Her hair was up in a bun as the stylist tried to tame the wild blonde locks into submission for a hair trial in advance of her wedding day. So far, it wasn't going well.

"Relax," Stevie tossed her laptop to the side, the layers of musical tracks still running through her mind as she pretended to pay attention to her sister. "You can always get married again. In fact, more than fifty percent of people do." Stevie smiled cooly at her sister who huffed in exasperation.

"I'm going to tell mom."

"Seriously? We are in our early twenties, not seven."

"Well then, stop acting like a little brat and tell me if you like my hairstyle or not?"

Stevie studied her sister's face, a near mirror image to her own. The difference was mainly in their style and in the color of their eyes. Olivia's were a bright, gem-colored green, while Stevie's were an unusually pale, seafoam color. Stevie usually lined them in dark and eccentric colors, further intensifying the contrast.

"Your hair looks like a bird's nest." The hair stylist peeked her head over Olivia's shoulder, not appreciating Stevie voicing the painfully obvious.

"Maybe I should wear my hair down instead of an updo..." Olivia bit her fingernail nervously, eyeing her own reflection. "Can we try that instead?" The hair stylist nodded, a tired and weary expression on her face. They'd already gone back and forth on Olivia's hairstyle more times than she cared to count.

Stevie returned to her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard with sounds only she could hear playing out in her ears. The computer was akin to a musical instrument in her hands. To many, music appeared a soft and elusive skill. But for Stevie, it had become a nuanced science. She and her sister may have looked alike, but all similarities ended there. Their interests and skills couldn't have been more different.

"Did you already schedule your hair-dying appointment?" Olivia stared at Stevie through the mirror of the salon, her blonde eyebrows perched high and annoyed on her forehead.

"Yes." Stevie rolled her eyes.

"Thank god. The pink has got to go."

Stevie glanced up from her screen, a mischievous smile on her full lips. "I agree, sis. Blue is going to look so much better with my maid of honor dress."

"Stevie Marlowe!" Olivia nearly bounded out of the salon chair, the poor stylist's eyes going wide. "You promised, PROMISED, me you'd go back to blonde for my wedding day." Her whiny tone was like nails on a chalkboard and Stevie finally relented, not needing yet another bridezilla breakdown on her hands. She had only been kidding after all but Olivia couldn't take even the hint of a joke these days.

"Yes, Queen Olivia, I will go back to blonde. It was a joke. You know, you should really try to enjoy this process if it's such a big deal like you say it is. What's the point of putting yourself through all this shit anyway?" Stevie absently ran her fingers through the baby pink strands of her long, thick hair. She loved the look. It gave her cosplay vibes.

"You just don't get it. You're never going to get married." Olivia focused her attention back on her reflection, watching the stylist work on taking out her disastrous updo.

"Not if I can help it." Stevie laughed to herself, standing up from her seat to go find their mother and see how much longer she really needed to stay here. She was desperate to get back to her apartment and start on another remix. She couldn't believe the exponentially climbing numbers on her latest remix of Jelena Kingston's track, Heart of Ice. Jelana Kingston was everything Stevie despised: barbie-girl, famous since childhood, richer than god, unattached to anything real or consequential. It was somehow thrilling to take her song and make an even more popular rendition of it. Artistic irony in the form of a modern day David and Goliath. Stevie was a nobody. Just a username on a screen. But the quality of her tracks couldn't be ignored by the masses. A sense of excitement and nerves started to rise up in her like a high. It wasn't so much that she was greedy. She only ever worked for enough money to live off of, nothing more. But the thrill of breaking through digital barriers, defying boundaries set by the bloated rich and corrupt record labels and media platforms that controlled the music universe? That was what hooked her.

"Mom," her mother was seated on a velvet loveseat in the waiting area, leafing through a bridal magazine, "can I go please go now? I promise I will get my hair dyed this week and will stop upsetting Olivia."

"You upset Olivia? Again?" Her mother's eyes looked worried and she set the magazine down.

"Mom, a piece of flint would upset Olivia at this point."

"You're not wrong. Between us, I'm relieved that the big day is only a week out. I'm not sure how much more I can take." Her mother sighed and looked back up at Stevie. "She's going to be such a beautiful bride though! Such a magical experience for a mother to witness."

"Yeah, yeah, we've heard it all before." Stevie leaned down to kiss her mother on the cheek. Even though Stevie had always been the alternative one, displaying an eccentric style, dropping out of college, and never having normal boyfriends that she'd brought home for dinner, her mother was always patient with her and never judgmental. In that way, Stevie was glad her mother had Olivia: the perfect blonde princess daughter who could check all the boxes so that she didn't have to.

"I'll see you at the rehearsal dinner in a few days. Don't be late, sweetie, please." Her mother kissed her cheek in return and Stevie nodded before heading out of the salon and hopping into her old, hunter green Jeep. She planned to stay up for the next 48 hours straight, left alone to the thrill of her computer, her keyboard, and her raving imagination.