Page 49 of Fa-La La-La Land
Slipping my hands from hers, I turn back to the soundboard to shut it down. I’m not ready to tell her I’m not writing anything for Winter Lights.
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Nothing. At least for now.” I don’t look at her. I don’t leave room for argument. This is what I was afraid would happen if she heard the song.
“Why record it, then?” She grabs my arm and spins me around. Her brow creases in accusation.
“Not everything I record needs to be made public.”
“People need to hear that song.”
“People heard it.”
Stella rolls her eyes. “People besides me and your parents.”
I step around her and make my way to the TV room—dishes can wait—where Mum and Dad are waiting to watch a film.
Stella follows close behind. “Come on, Rhys. You’ve got to do something with that song. It’s amazing.”
We walk into the TV room, and she goes straight to Mum. “Millie, back me up here. That’s the perfect song for Winter Lights, right?”
“Don’t bother, Mum. Not arguing about it. The song stays put. Maybe one day I’ll do something with it—but not today.” I park next to Dad on the couch, then meet Stella’s accusing gaze. “Just not now.”
“Rhys,” she pleads.
Mum touches Stella’s elbow. “It’s his song, La-La,” she says gently but firmly.
Stella nods once, but she doesn’t sit. She stays quiet while the rest of us discuss which movie we should watch.
“Opinions, La-La?” I ask, trying to smooth things out between us.
My gaze goes to hers across the room. She feels an ocean away. She blinks once, then shakes her head.
“I’d better go. I’ve got a few things to finish up tonight.” She turns and walks toward the kitchen and the back door that leads to her house.
I’m tempted to let her leave. Give her some space to cool down. I’m a bit hot myself. I don’t like her pressuring me into doing something I don’t want to do.
But one look from Mum sends me jogging after Stella. I catch up as she steps onto the patio.
“C’mon, La-La. Don’t be cranky.” I slide the door shut behind me, so Mum and Dad won’t hear if this turns into a full-fledged fight.
Stella nails me in place with a look. “I’m not mad, Rhys.”
I may not be good about showing my emotions, but I hate it when people aren’t honest about theirs. “You look it, Stella. If you’re cranky, say you’re cranky—you don’t have to be happy all the time. Say you’re cross because I won’t put the song out.”
Her eyes narrow, and her full lips morph into a thin, straight line, but she doesn’t say anything. Silence rolls off her like the converging currents of a riptide.
“I can’t put that song out.” I hate that I sound a bit frantic toexplain my reasons. “I’ve known Danny for ten years. He’s not going to like it…” I can’t keep sidestepping the truth with Stella. “And he’s already got a song lined up for Winter Lights, some polished number he reckons’ll ‘save my image.’ I told him I’d do it. I don’t have the luxury of picking fights over creative differences right now.”
Stella crosses her arms. “Who are you trying to make happy, Rhys? Yourself or Danny and VibeHouse?”
A groan of frustration escapes, and I scrape my hand through my hair. “I’m trying to keep the fans happy. Ultimately, they’re the ones I answer to.”
I pace the short length of the patio, avoiding her eyes. One look and Stella will see how much I hate saying those words. She doesn’t understand what it takes to succeed in this business.
I reach the wall that separates my property from my neighbor’s. Stella comes behind me and brushes her fingers across my shoulder, gently encouraging me to face her.
“Youknow what you want, Rhys. I heard it in that song. I’ve been trying for a month now to capture the version of Rhys who wrote those lyrics. That…” She pauses, and I let my eyes meet hers. “That’s the Rhys we need to show your fans. Because that is the real Rhys.”
