The year is 1926 and Brendon Urie is struggling to live up to the demands of his wife. To escape the stress, he sings at a jazz club downtown with his band, Panic! At the Disco and they gain popularity extremely fast.
Brendon then finds it challeng...
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Everything I promised everyone I'd be Well I just ain't
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June was sitting at the kitchen table smoking a cigarette when Brendon walked in the door at 5:30 PM. He took off his hat and jacket and hung them on the rack near the door. "Hey, honey."
"Have a seat, husband. We need to have a talk."
Those words didn't sit well with him. Brendon sank into the seat across from his wife. "What's wrong?"
"I was cleaning up and found your songs." She put a stack of sheet music on the table.
"Oh."
"You write a lot, dear."
"It's a hobby of mine."
June took a drag of her cigarette. "A hobby huh? Cute."
"So what's the problem?"
"The problem, Brendon, is that writing music isn't going to buy us a house."
"Oh my god, June, did you sit me down for this?" Brendon sighed.
"I had to say something! You get up every Saturday and play piano but I never thought you'd written this many songs! When do you even have the time to write all of these when you work five days a week?"
"I write on my breaks and when I have down time. No one goes to the bank on 42nd," he responded.
"You write at work?!"
"Jesus..."
"You write music when you should be working?! And then complain to me that you're working hard when you're writing songs?! Is this a joke to you, Brendon?!" June exclaimed.
"It's not."
"Then why are you writing at work if you know I'm gonna be upset with you? You better have a good reason."
Brendon gave up. "I sing with a band at Sandburg's on weekends and I write most of our music. There."
"A band?"
"Did I stutter?"
"Brendon, I can't believe you!" June cried. "Did you think you could keep this a secret from me forever?!"
"Obviously not, that's why I told you," he retorted.
"I didn't marry you so you could run away to those clubs and sing songs with your stupid band. You're out of your damn mind."
"Then why did you marry me, June?" Brendon inquired, leaning in close. "Because there's plenty of other rich men that you could've said yes to."
"Rich men weren't interested in me, you know that," she said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "You're ambitious and hardworking, I really like that about you. But sometimes your head isn't where it's supposed to be and we wouldn't be here if you actually did your job."
"Is everything about money to you?" Brendon asked, slightly raising his tone. "Do you not care about anything else?"
"If we don't have money, we can't pay our bills or buy food. We'll be homeless and starving and we'll die. Does that sound like a better alternative?"
"Obviously not but it's not like we're begging on the street for money. We can pay our bills and we're not gonna be homeless or starving soon. We both have jobs, we'll be fine."
"But we don't have-"
"Who fucking cares?! Who cares, June? I have anything I could ever need right here and you don't see that. We're not poor and we'll be rich if you give it time. No one gets rich enough overnight to buy a damn mansion," Brendon said. His desire for a cigarette grew stronger every time June took a drag and rolled her damn eyes to the back of her head.
"If you can find a way to make money off of this, be my guest but until then it needs to stop. I'm serious. It's irresponsible."
"Irresponsible?" Brendon scoffed. "Are you kidding?"
"I'm not. You shouldn't even be at Sandburg's! Drinking is illegal, you know that!"
"One drink never hurt anyone, honey. It's a stupid law, everyone drinks," Brendon said, finally standing from the table to get a cigarette. "I don't know why you voted for it."
"You already know how I feel about alcohol. You don't need to end up like my brother."
"I'm not." He sparked a flame with the gold trimmed lighter June begged for a few months ago and lit the cigarette.
"How do you know that the police won't shut it down and arrest you? Crazy things go on in there. The alcohol and the dancers and the mafia," she whispered as if Al Capone were in the next room. "I don't need you dying in crossfire."
"You're crazy!" Brendon laughed. "I have to laugh, honey. Don't bring the fucking mafia into this."
"It's a possibility! They're dangerous! Sandburg's is dangerous! I can't lose you."
"That's sweet," he said with a smile. "Because if I'm gone so is your chance of having that mansion, right? Love you too."
"You don't get it, Brendon."
"I really don't. Why can't you be supportive and listen to my music for once? Don't yell at me when I'm playing a song, just listen. That's all I'm asking. It doesn't even cost any money," he smirked, flicking ash into the nearby ash tray.
"Shut up," she snapped.
"I'll find a way to make money off of this. You won't be able to turn it down," Brendon declared, exhaling wisps of smoke.
"Please, prove me wrong because this isn't what I imagined life would be like when I married you," she said. "Take your stupid songs." June swiped the papers off the table and they settled into a scattered heap on the floor. "They're all sad anyway."
"It's because I write about you all the time. You don't necessarily evoke a happy feeling in me," he replied as he bent down to collect his music.
"I'm going for a walk," June said, grabbing her sweater from the rack. "And when I get back, figure out how to not be a disappointment."
She slammed the door shut and Brendon was able to breathe for the first time since he got home. He didn't know what he was supposed to do to fix this. June would most likely never be satisfied even if he did buy her everything she wanted.
To combat the depression, Brendon sat at his piano, placed his fingers on the ivory keys, and played a song.
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Gonna try and update this story every Monday and Friday during summer! Thanks to anyone who cares about this book I really appreciate you ok bye♡
