Page 27 of Goodbye Note

I sighed and closed out of the window. “What were we doing?”

“Huh?” Ser asked, looking up from his guitar. I didn’t even know what we were rehearsing for.

“Nothing. I’m exhausted. I haven’t been sleeping.” I played it off, not wanting to bring Ser into any of it. He hadn’t asked, and I really didn’t want to talk about it.

“You’ve been burning the candle at both ends for months. I’m not surprised. Maybe you should take the night off.” He laid his guitar across his knees and gave me his full attention.

“I have too much homework to take a night off. It’s finals in a couple of weeks.”

Ser screwed up his face. “Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

“The rest of the band is here.” I stared at him like he had three heads.

“We are just dicking around before we have to be on that radio show tomorrow. You don’t have to be here if your work is piling up.” Ser’s mouth twisted with concern. “You have to keep up with your studies.”

“I’m going to call you Daddy if you don’t cut that shit out.” I shuddered.

Ser grinned slyly. “What if I’m into that?”

I fake gagged. “TMI, bro.”

“Seriously, why are you here?”

“Because I don’t want to do any of the piles of work I have.” It felt good to admit, but I knew it would only lead to him pushing me to work on it.

“Get the fuck out of here, and go to the library.” Ser got to his feet and pointed at the door. “I’m not risking your parents making you quit because you failed out of college.”

As much as I wanted to argue about being an adult who made my own decisions, he was right. I’d end up homeless or sleeping on Ser’s parents’ couch if my parents stopped paying for my student apartment. “You don’t want to be Elton John and Bernie Taupin? If we ever meet them, I’m telling them you said that.”

Ser pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Go.”

“Not so fast. I need you for a bit.” Kiernan strolled into the room carrying his MacBook in one hand.

“What for?” I asked, sticking out my tongue at Ser while Kiernan was clicking something on his track pad and not playing attention to us.

“I have you on for this new thing they are trying. It’s going to be the next big thing, so you guys need to jump on it.”

“What’s wrong with all the other social media we’re on?” I asked, walking over to look over his shoulder.

“It’s called PocketJournal. It’s like an online diary. Like your wall on Facebook or, in my days, MySpace, but so much more personal.” Kiernan sat down next to me to show me his screen.

“Fuck, bro. How old are you? MySpace?”

“I’m thirty-six. Shut the fuck up. I’m telling you.” He tapped a few keys, and I waited for the website to load.“This is more personal, and right now, when no one has attention for anything because there are ads plastered on everything and everyone is selling something, fans are going to connect with this.”

“Shouldn’t we just focus on TikTok?”

“You can’t put all your eggs in one basket. You have to throw spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks. All that shit is so over-saturated now.” He shrugged like it was up to me, but I knew it wasn’t. When a label said jump, we asked how high. “You got to do both. Double your odds.”

I nodded, taking the MacBook when he offered it and going through all the steps to log in. “Alright. So what am I doing?” I said after I uploaded a profile picture and then typed my bio.

“It’s like anything else—you make posts and updates. But this one you treat just like a journal; it’s in the name.” He pointed at the screen. “Right there, you can put a title, and then write what you want?—”

“What do I write?” I cut him off.

“The guy who’s written enough material for three albums asks me.” He gave me a flat look. “Fans want to know you. This is new access, and they are loving it. You have to be yourself. Your personality sells music as much as the sound. Treat it like you’re writing in a diary.”

“Got it. So I just write what’s in my head?” I wasn’t so sure people wanted all of my thoughts. They skewed a little dark for polite society.

---