Page 165 of Debts and Desires
67. PANTS ON FIRE
January 27
Thirty-Four Days Gone
As I strummed the last chords of the song, I felt a rush of satisfaction wash over me. It had taken hours of meticulous work, but the melody was almost done. I had gotten here early to give myself some quiet to work in. Despite my exhaustion, I knew there were still a few parts missing, but I was determined to finish it before Zac arrived for our third meeting. Or try. I’d already been interrupted once by Chelsea, who was looking for Zac.
At first, she thought I was an assistant, snapping her fingers at me.
“Uh, hello?” she said, crossing her arms. I quickly closed up my notebooks, afraid that she would take my ideas. Which was rich coming from me, but still.
“Hi?”
“Two bottles of room temperature water, aspirin, and a new set of headphones.” My brows furrowed.
“Okay? I’m sure Tony or Miranda are around here some?—”
“I didn’t ask them. I asked you.”
“Well, you kind oftoldme. Not asked.”
“Okay, well, it’s your job. So, do it.”
“My job?”
“You shouldn’t be sitting in here writing. Leave that to the professionals,” she scoffed. I just stared at her. “Are you dumb or something?” I reared back. Just as I was about to say something, there was a knock on the conference room door. Tony popped his head in.
“Hey, Emmy, I was just—oh, hey Chels.”
“Tony, can you please have Zac fire her?” She nodded my way. “She’s in here writing instead of being where she’s needed.” Tony looked at me, an apologetic expression on his face, before looking back at her.
“That’s Emmy,” he explained.
“Okay?” Chels scoffed again.
“As in Emmy Rae? The other final contestant?”
Realization washed over Chelsea, but instead of apologizing, she said, “Oh. Well, she should have said that. I need two bottles of room temperature water, aspirin, and a new set of headphones.”
“Okay, I’ll page Miranda. If you wanna head back to your space, I’ll check in soon.”
“Sure, thing.” And with that, she left, almost running into Tony on her way out. He held a finger up to each temple, mocking devil horns, and I had to choke back a laugh.
That was hours ago.
I glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing that time was moving faster than I had anticipated. With a sense of urgency, I played my guitar once more, starting from the beginning, and began to fill in the missing pieces. Or tried.
My fingers danced across the strings and the already completed lyrics flowed effortlessly with practiced ease. I was able to get another line, quickly jotting it before I lost it. I still needed to finish part of the chorus and the bridge. Plus, there was an issue in the third verse that I couldn’t quite pin-point.
With a frustrated sigh, I grabbed Carter’s notebook, reading through it again, hoping to find even just agrainof inspiration.
Part of me wished I was there. Not necessarily with him, but to be on the porch with Mac beside me and BJ in the window, the wind blowing through the surrounding trees, the birds in the distance. I went back to writing in my notebook, leaving Carter’s out. I’d put it away soon.
Lost in thought, I barely noticed when Zac and Tony walked in, their presence breaking my concentration. I looked up, offering them a tired smile as they approached.
“Hey, Emmy. How’s it going?” Zac said. Tony gave a polite nod.
“Hey, Zac. Tony,” I greeted, my voice slightly hoarse from hours of singing. “It’s going,” I chuckled. “Sorry, I’m not quite finished yet. But super close.”
