Negative, Ghost Writer

Chapter 1

Remy was sleeping peacefully. Keyword: WAS, until a certain floppy haired boy entered her room, throwing himself so aggressively onto his best friend's mattress that she caught air.

"Wake up, Rem. We have to be in the studio today," Braeden said shaking her as she turned back over.

"I know we do, I set an alarm and last time I checked, it didn't look or sound like you. Oh wait, that is because it wasn't you," she retorted angrily. "Wait, how did you even get into the house?"

"Kate let me in, and she told me she misses me and that I need to come around more often. I think I have a shot," he said wiggling his eyebrows.

Remy scoffed at him, smacking him with the spare pillow on the bed. Even at 23 years old  Braeden was still making jokes about dating Remy's mom.

"I know just the thing to say to get you out of bed, bestie," he said to her with a cheeky grin as she walked from her bed to her closet.

"Yes yes you are oh so wise Braeden. Please let me change in peace and I'll meet you at the car," she said smiling at him.

After throwing on her favorite pair of overalls, she braided her thick brown hair and threw on her favorite rings. Studio days always required comfort. Sitting in the same room for 12 hours at a time, with usually no breaks meant being as comfortable as you can in an uncomfortable situation.

After finishing her routine, she ran down the stairs of the house, guitar case on her back and notebook in her tote.

"Morning Ma, I'm heading over to help the guys write some songs today. I'll probably be back later in the evening. Do you need me to grab anything on the way home?"

"No sweetheart, but thank you for asking. Just remember that you're supposed to be having fun, okay? I know it has been hard for you recently." Remy's mom was correct. Writing had become extremely difficult for the young woman as of late. She was feeling burnt out from writing songs for the holiday season, which was quickly approaching, meaning deadlines were quickly approaching.

She walked over to her mom and gave her a tight hug. "Thank you mom, I will have fun. It's the boys," she said softly. She owed her mom everything in her life, and wanted to reassure her she was okay.

Remy's mom looked up at her with tears brimming her eyes. "I'm so proud of you, you know. You're truly my brilliant little girl."

"Mom, I'm 23 years old and 8 inches taller than you," the daughter said giggling. "I have to go, I love you. Have a great day!"

Running out to the car Remy realized how cold it was, winter truly here. The gray clouds in the sky indicating that snow would be littering the ground any moment.

"Took you long enough," Braeden said to her as she opened the trunk to put her guitar in the car.

"You know Kate. Giving me the pre-studio pep talk," she replied with a sad smile.

It was no secret to Braeden that she was working over working herself, and he was extremely worried about her, he had never seen her so stressed or tired in her life. This holiday season alone she had written 5 albums, produced a jingle for a company, and is helping his band, Wallows, work on their new album. Braeden made it his personal task to take care of her during this busy time in her professional life. After working with her for so many years he knew that she wouldn't leave the booth or desk until she was completely satisfied, meaning she probably wouldn't eat or drink any water if she were alone. Braeden accounted his best friends perfectionist issues and brought snacks, drinks, and always ordered lunch on those long days. Braeden always wanted her to feel supported throughout her process. He was so grateful to her friendship over the years.

"Please don't look at me like that, Brae. I promise I'm okay, I've really been looking forward to this for weeks. Let's get going I have some great ideas I want to run by Marty before everyone else gets there," she said smiling at him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it lightly. Braeden blushed lightly, squeezing her hand back. Then quickly removing it to not make it awkward and drove to the studio.