As if reality’s cold bite in the form of Rob leaving to go to the studio wasn’t enough to kill the decent mood Jane had put herself in that morning, the kiss he gave her before he left was. Well, not at first. At first it was great, enough to turn her on and almost beg him not to leave, but then… something happened. He abruptly pulled away from her, and the look in his eyes, contrary to his apology, seemed to have something hidden in them. 

And that was what Jane was fearing the most from the current situation – Rob rethinking their relationship.

[i]"Jesus, Jane. Paranoid much?"[/i]

Before she could call out to him, he had already exited the room, leaving her in the middle of the king sized bed alone. “Great,” she mumbled as she rubbed the bridge of her freckled nose. 

The future was so unclear, at for the first time, it really worried Jane. So many factors could change the path ahead of her: whether or not she’d be able to produce new material in four days, whether or not Rob became fed up with seeing someone so controversial, whether or not the internet decided to forgive Jane and move on to the next scandalous story.  

Instead of making herself cry, she opted for getting out of bed and rolling a joint for herself before going out onto the patio to attempt to come up with something for a new song. She absolutely did not want to go to the studio, [i]especially[/i] empty handed. It was already bad enough that she had to defend the single constantly, which was a product of her writer’s block, but now to try to squeeze something else out? She felt hopeless.

A joint, a cigarette, and a screwdriver later, Jane had made a pile of crumpled up notebook paper on the patio table and was furiously scribbling on a piece of paper when she had finally had enough. Her earbuds were playing [url=https://youtu.be/gvriI3ii7lU]Heavy Fruit by He Is Legend[/url], the hypnotic harmonies and unique rhythm pushing her through the difficulties of trying to produce something she didn’t want to.

“God [i]damn[/i] it,” she whispered forcefully as she tossed her notebook on the floor and picked up her cracked phone to check the missed texts she had been avoiding and turn off the music. 

One was from Andy.

Jane paused for a moment as she had a thought. “Andy.”

She called him, and was greeted by a groggy voice on the other end.
Jane: [b]Hey, I’m sorry it’s early. And I’m sorry I didn’t respond last night. Things were a little crazy.[/b]
Andy: [b]A little huh? I’m sorry about what happened, man. That article was awful.[/b]
Jane: [b]Yeah… I’m trying not to think about it.[/b]
Andy: [b]Got it. Well, what can I do you for?[/b]
Jane: [b]Pressure is on for me to write a song in four days. I can’t even get past three lines. I guess I just wanted some advice.[/b]
Andy: [b]Four days? Don’t they know that’s not how it works?[/b]
Jane: [b]I don’t think they [i]care.[/i] They want to distract everyone from my tits, I guess.[/b]
Andy: [b]Ha. Well, I don’t know. Are you having trouble coming up with inspiration?[/b]
Jane:  [b]I mean, I got so much going on. So no, probably not. It’s just putting it in words. Plus, they never usually make songs that are easy to write for.[/b]
Andy: [b]Be vague, then. You don’t have to be descriptive in lyric writing. If anything, when a band puts out a song where there’s mystery as to what the lyrics mean, the fans flip out and get excited trying to figure it out. All while you didn’t strain so hard writing it.[/b]
Jane: [b]Hmmm, that might work. I’ll call you later, yeah?[/b]
Andy: [b]Sounds good. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, Jane.[/b]
Jane: [b]Thanks, Andy.[/b]

Jane hung up the phone and squeezed her eyes shut momentarily before reaching down for the notebook once again, taking a moment to stare at the worn, leather cover.

[i]”It doesn’t have to rhyme, fuck, you don’t even have to write a chorus if you want. Just write something you can sing.”[/i]

Jane gnawed on her bottom lip as she began writing on the notebook she had tossed on the ground prior, making little adjustments as she went in the form of scribbling over words and squeezing some in between others. 

An hour and a half after Rob had left, she had [i]something.[/i] And it kind of rhymed. She had no chorus, but that was something she could probably have Austin work on; he was always helpful when it came to filling in the blanks for Jane’s lyrics. 

She quickly texted Sam for the address of the studio they were at, and after navigating around press that had formed at the hotel, she finally arrived at the concrete building. Jane had to take a few deep breaths before entering, and without taking off the round-framed sunglasses or the hood over her head, she was pointed to the direction of the room they were using by the young receptionist. 

“Hi, guys,” her gruff voice greeted them. She immediately went over to the beer that had been delivered and was now displayed on a table in the corner.

The notebook wedged under her arm was tossed over to Austin.

In a messy, cursive script, the lyrics she had written sprawled across the page in an unorganized fashion: 

[i]”Swimming downward into the depths of my soul
But I can’t find the words you’d like to hear
And as you string together words from your unrequited thoughts
It only sounds like ringing in my ears
You’ll only be let down in time
If you let me become your only smile
Because what is left of the ruins of my body isn’t much
And I’ll only stay for a little while
The hole in my chest aches when it rains
And the skies as of late are consistently gray
Believe me when I say I’ll only cause trouble
With these unintentional games I play
And yet you say [x3]
Run while you can
‘Cause I’ll just leave you spinning
I’m not good for loving, baby
I’m only good for sinning.” [/i]

“It’s shit. Needs a lotta work and a chorus if that’s what you guys want. It’s the best I could do.” 

Jane really didn’t want to discuss it further than that, so she diverted the attention away from her contribution. 

“You guys wrote anything yet?” She plopped down in a chair and brought her knees to her chest before taking another swig of the beer. She decided to leave her sunglasses in an attempt to hide any dissatisfaction she felt for being there. All that she wanted to do now was lay around in bed and forget every current event. To mope around and be pathetic. To get laid (Rob had left so suddenly this morning.) Jane didn’t want to spend her day writing a song with her half-assed lyrics because Harold told them to. 

But, she felt like she at least owed it to the guys to at least put some effort towards a new song – if that’s what they wanted – so they wouldn’t have Harold up their ass.

Her eyes couldn’t help but occasionally fall on Rob behind the tinted lenses. She had felt so confused since she left that morning, but it was neither the time nor place to have a discussion about it. He seemed to be in a great mood, probably from whatever they had come up with, and it wouldn’t be fair for her to ruin it. 

So she sat there, pretending the best she could that she was enjoying herself as they played for her what they recorded. “That’s sick,” she said matter-of-factly. “I like it.” Her hand moved to her head to remove the hood and shake out her hair. “So, does Harold want this recorded and mastered in four days too?” 

He couldn’t expect that much on top of playing another two shows, right?