Page 23 of Composed
If someone with her talent has nothing more to give, what hope do I have?
She chuckles. “What about you? Can we expect new things from Reckless Abandon soon? The world is waiting with bated breath to see where you go next.”
“Are you keeping track of us?”
“Hard not to. You’re everywhere.”
“Yeah, guess we are.”
“You don’t sound so happy about that.”
A heavy weight settles on my chest. “I think the music died for me too.”
“Oh.”
“Kinda why I came back, actually.” I snag my water bottle from the side and clear it in one, wishing I could see her.
It’s easier to talk on the phone. Easier to pretend there isn’t an ocean between who we were and who we are now. But not being able to read her expression and know what she’s thinking kills me.
“You were gonna ask me to write with you,” she says, soft and simple, as if she knows this is where we’d always end up.
“Figured it wouldn’t hurt.” I twist the duvet in my hand. “After all, you’re the reason I have two platinum records hanging above my bed.”
She snorts. “Half of the reason.”
“Three-quarters.”
“Two-thirds.”
I laugh. “You win. You, Rixie Moore, are two thirds of the reason I have two platinum records hanging above my bed.”
I slink down on the mattress and stare at the ceiling as the line falls quiet.
If not for the constant whisper of her breath in my ear, I’d wonder if she ended the call.
“Are they really above your bed?” she finally asks.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I trace the lines of the guitar inked into my wrist. There was a time this woman knew every detail of my life—walls and all—and now she has to ask.
“Sounds a bit egotistical, if you ask me.”
“You realise you’re talking to a rock star right? Ego is kind of our thing.”
“Okay, then,Rock Star.”
My breath catches at the old nickname, hers hisses.
The words are playful, but laden with history.
“It’s easy to forget, really,” she says. “I’ve never known you living in the spotlight.”
I hear the click of a door from her end, followed by a muffled voice before her voice comes back through. “Shit. Talia’s here. We have a meeting, so I’ve gotta go…”
She trails off, the lack of goodbye lingering in the air, like she doesn’t want to end this call either.
“Right. Things to do. Go be a super business lady or whatever.”
A tinkling laugh echoes through my speaker and I swallow hard.
