Chapter 25 #2
“That has nothing to do with this,” Finn insisted, but the twitch of his eyebrow told me I nailed it on the head. “You’re just being too precious about your art. I know the music is your life and blah blah blah, but seriously Kay, how hard is it to write a song our fans actually want to listen to?”
I narrowed my eyes at Finn. He’d made light of my dedication to the music before, but never this disparagingly.
“How do you know people won’t want to listen to these new ones?” Chris asked. “No one aside from us has heard them. Give our fans a little respect.”
“It’s not about respect or disrespect,” Micah replied, frustrated. “Chris, you didn’t even join the band until we’d already basically made it big, how would you know what our fans want?”
Chris went silent, his expression pained, as if he’d taken a physical blow, but he quickly recovered.
“We should trust that our fans love who we are, that they love what we do, and that they’ll be open to new styles,” Chris continued. “We should trust that they want to hear us authentically.”
“So you’re saying I’m inauthentic?” Micah bit out.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Chris said, his reasonable tone seeming to make Micah even more agitated.
“It’s not inauthentic if we’re making our fans happy,” Anya said.
“You’re just agreeing with Micah because you want this conversation to be over,” Zain said. “You always just do whatever everyone else wants to avoid any confrontations.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” Anya insisted.
“Oh yeah? When have you ever stood up for yourself before?” Zain asked snidely.
Anya turned white and lowered her head.
“That’s not true,” I cut in. “Do you not remember the time Anya kneed that guy in the balls?”
“It was self-defense,” Anya muttered, still avoiding everyone’s eyes. “He was manhandling me.”
“But Anya,” I said, turning to her, “surely you have to agree with me and Zain? As someone who writes from the heart, you have to get what we’re saying, right? Music comes from deep inside of us. From inside our very souls.”
Anya sighed. “Kaylee, do you always have to be this dramatic and emotional?”
I flinched, trying not to let the betrayal show in my expression. I knew Anya might not agree with me right away about our second album, but I’d never thought she would throw something like that in my face.
My mom had always called me dramatic whenever I tried to set boundaries. She always thought I was too emotional whenever I showed any signs of hurt. I hadn’t thought that was such a sore point inside me, but somehow Anya had identified a weak spot in my armor and let an arrow fly straight into it.
“Too dramatic and emotional?” I finally snapped. “Just because you bottle everything up inside and refuse to talk about your feelings—”
“I put everything into my lyrics,” Anya shot back, eyebrows drawing down into a frown. “I put all my feelings into our songs.”
“You’ll expose your most vulnerable emotions to thousands of fans, but you won’t even have a real conversation about what you’re feeling with your best friends,” I said, a wrenching feeling twisting my stomach.
Now it was Anya who had the look of betrayal on her face.
I hated where this was all going, but it was like a train wreck, and nothing anyone was saying was stopping it.
“Kay, you need to learn to separate the art from the business,” Micah said, losing his patience.
“This music is my life,” I exclaimed, my heart beating wildly in my chest. “The business isn’t. I’d write this music even if there wasn’t a single other person around to hear it.”
“If we keep arguing like this, you might get your wish,” Micah growled.
“You’re just scared,” I told him with a lump in my throat.
Micah glared at me.
“You can’t always default to that excuse whenever we disagree about something,” he said. “I’m not scared, I’m being practical.”
“Since when does the word practical have anything to do with art?” I asked.
“It does when you mix art with business,” Micah said firmly. “Which is exactly what we’ve been doing ever since we signed that record deal.” Micah looked at each of us in turn, making sure to meet each of our eyes.
“Do you really want to risk the label dropping us?” Micah asked.
“Let them fucking try,” Zain snarled, getting up from his chair so fast it tipped over. He stormed out of the practice room. We all watched him go, varying expressions of dismay on our faces.
“I really don’t think they will,” I said, trying to salvage something. “Lots of bands get experimental. And I don’t want to betray what’s in my heart. What’s in my soul. This music is my life. It’s—”
My throat closed up and I couldn’t finish the end of that sentence out loud.
It’s the only thing I have.
“This is bullshit,” Finn cursed, kicking at the stool I’d been sitting on.
“Getting mad won’t solve anything,” Chris said, voice strained as he tried to find his usual placid tone.
“No, but it sure as shit makes me feel better,” Finn snapped. “Forget this.”
Finn stormed out, too. Chris stared after him then followed silently. Anya gave me and Micah a reproachful look and left, too. Then it was just me and Micah left in the practice room.
Micah ran a hand over his face and grunted.
“Fuck.”