Johnneys in the bathroom.

Chapter 1

I stormed into the building, livid. As soon as I burst through the door, I saw one of Johnny's assistants. "Where is he?" I shouted. She had hesitated before pointing her index finger at the studio across the hall as I walked swiftly in that direction, muttering curses under my breath.

I slammed the door open, looking Johnny straight in the eyes. "What the hell?" I shouted. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm in the middle of recording with someone else right now so just-"

I shoved my phone in his face, showing him the email from one of my managers and media publishers. The email consisted of my latest song, which didn't have my name on the credits.

"Hmm. I don't see a problem." I glared at him, "Where is my name?" He shrugged. His calmness was starting to piss me off. I'd tried to calm myself down, slowly taking a deep breath and putting on my nicest voice, "Johnny, I thought I told you to put my name on the credits, this song means a lot to me."

He turned around in his chair pressed a button on his desk and spoke into the intercom to the studio booth, "Take a 10-minute break." The person in the booth nodded and the beats from the booth stopped.

Johnny then turned his chair around to face me again, "I've worked on this song for months, I worked my ass off for this song, and yet my name is nowhere to be seen on this song," I protested. "While that's all fine and dandy, this song feels like more of a.. group effort," he said, and as he saw my expression change into confusion,  he explained further, "This song is as much mine as it is yours. Actually, I was the one who created the hook and all of the instrumentals."

My jaw dropped, was he trying to say that it made sense for me not to have my name on my song?

"So, let me ask you. Do you think you deserve the credit?"

I opened my mouth to respond but nothing came out. He smirked, "Alright then," he said, as he walked towards the door opening it, "I think you should go, I'm very busy right now. You can come back later but I can't promise that I will be here."

I stood there for a good minute before I made my way out of the door. He was always like this, even as kid. I would tell him what he did wrong, but he would always find a way for me to think I deserved it. It never helped that my parents thought he could do no wrong in their eyes. As far as they were concerned,  I was the antagonizer and I was the one who always "pushed him to his limit" whenever he got violent.

I made my way out of the building and into the car, but I hadn't started it yet. I was sitting in the car, going over what had happened. I had planned to put up a fight, but I felt like I had just let him take everything I had worked on from me. Yes, he did help a lot with the song, but I was the one who created the melody, All of the verses, and the bridge. All of the lyrics I had written down were like parts of my life and emotions on paper. It may not mean much to anyone else, but when Johnny had taken credit for my song, it felt like he had taken credit for everything in my life. It's not just a one-time thing either. If I asked for help with anything, chores or projects, or any success, it was like I hadn't even done anything at all.

My Mom and Dad always favored my brother more, even if they never said it, I knew. They never expected much from him, so if he ever did the bare minimum they would go all out to celebrate it. Whereas for me it was expected. It caused a bit of sibling rivalry in the long run.

I looked at my watch and decided to go home, it was already 6:00 pm and the sun had almost disappeared.  It was mid-winter so it was normal, but I couldn't wait until it was over, these short days were getting depressing.

I let out a breath and started the car as I made my way back home.

                                                                                                                          •••

I unlocked the front door and took my jacket off. "Brooks?" I called out as I closed the door.  "Brooks?" I called again. He was always taking later shifts, so maybe he wasn't home yet. I dropped down on the couch and turned on the TV to pass the time until he got here.

It was 9:39 when I started wondering what was taking Brooks so long to come home. Usually, his extra shifts were no longer than 2 hours. I was just about to get off the couch when I heard the door start opening.

"Hi Babe, how was your day?" I had said with extended arms. He mumbled something in response and walked past me. "What's for dinner, I'm hungry," he said. "Oh, I was going to ask if you'd want to go out to eat." He paused with an offended look on his face "Why the fuck would I want to go out when I could have had a nice cooked meal in front of me when I got home from work?"

I stopped for a minute trying not to have another outburst, I know he was probably just stressed.

"Sorry, I just thought it would be nice. We never go on dates anymore so.." He looked even angrier, "I'm a busy man."

"Yeah, I forgot. I can still make something if you would like?"

"No, I don't feel like waiting anymore for some fucking food that should have been on the table before I even got here!", his voice raised as he knocked over a glass causing it to shatter in pieces all over the ground. He paced the room, still annoyed, "I'll just buy some McDonald's for myself or something, since you can't do shit."

I watched as he stormed out the door.