Maddox looks offended. “Hey.”
“I’m not talking about you,” I say. “As my roommate and best friend, you are obviously immune to my … charm.”
“I’m a man, Reece. I’ll never be immune to charm. But I would never act like those tools.”
Skylar puts an arm around him. “My sister raises good kids,” she says proudly. “You’ll walk her back to your apartment in case those boys are waiting outside?”
I stash my apron and clock out, practically running out the door. “I have to hear it again,” I tell him.
“Are you sure you heard it right? I mean a lot of songs sound alike.”
I pull him along, coaxing him to walk faster. “I’m sure. I knew what the words were going to be before I heard them. It’s not the tune I imagined for it, but it sure as hell was the lyrics. It was practically word-for-word. No way is it a coincidence.”
On the subway I become impatient, wishing the train would go faster. I snap at a man who looks at me the wrong way. Maddox laughs.
I give him a punishing stare. “You think this is funny?”
“I haven’t ever seen you this worked up.”
“He stole my lyrics.”
“Who?”
“Garrett.”
His jaw goes slack. He knows all about Garrett. “Oh shit, really? Well, this is about to get super interesting.”
I am not amused by his amusement.
Our stop comes, and I push past others to get off the train. Despite my legs being much shorter than my roommate’s, I make it up the stairs, around the corner, and into our building far ahead of him. He catches up to me at the elevator. “Reece, the song isn’t going anywhere. You act like you might not ever hear it again.”
The elevator doors open. We enter, and I pin him to the wall with a glare. “Why are you taking this so lightly? He stole my song. Do you know how many laws that breaks?”
“No.”
I slump against the wall. “Actually, I don’t either. But I’m sure a lot.”
We get off on our floor, and I race to the front door and unlock it. Then I throw my keys and purse on the floor and turn on the radio. I flip through the stations for two hours while he pours me glasses of merlot. Finally, right after midnight, I hear it.
“Maddox! It’s on!”
He runs into the living room and sits next to me. Hearing someone else sing my lyrics is surreal, and her voice is amazing. My heart beats out of my chest, and I wonder if this is really happening. I try to calm down and listen.
You sit upon your two-wheeled throne,
Wind in your hair, smile on your face.
I watch you from the safety of
My four-wheel drive in second place.
You go east (east), I go west; I swerve right (right), you swerve left.
If I throw caution to the wind and cross that yellow line,
Will you turn around and wait for me? Tell me that you’re mine?
Racing, weaving, flying down the road
Just like a bat out of hell,
I fear I’ll never measure up
To the dreams you hold so well.
How much do I have to give
If I swerve into your lane?
Will I lose myself in you
And forget from where I came?
You go east (east), I go west; I swerve right (right), you swerve left.
If I throw caution to the wind and cross that yellow line,
Will you turn around and wait for me? Tell me that you’re mine?
The song ends. Hot tears run down my face.
He pulls me close. “It’ll be okay.”
“That bastard. He sold my lyrics. I swear to God I’m going to kill him. And sue his ass.”
“Which is it? Do you want to kill him or sue him?”
I elbow him in the ribs. “Shut up. This is serious.” I get my phone off the table. I have to find out who sings it, but I don’t know what to type. “I don’t know the name of the song. I never gave it a title.”
“Type one of the lyrics and see if you get a hit.”
I do what he says and get a bunch of random stuff not related to the song. My head falls back onto the cushion. “How will I figure out who she is if I can’t find the song?”
“Give me that,” he says, taking my phone. “Every song is on the internet.”
I snatch it back. “It’s not.”
He hops off the couch and brings the bottle of wine over. “Guess you’ll have to call him then.”
“Garrett? No way. He’s ignored me since the day he walked out of my life six years ago.”
“But surely you know how to find him. What’s the name of his band?”
“It was Cryptology, but that was a long time ago. Who the hell knows what happened after that? For all I know, he’s playing drums for Aerosmith.”
“You never googled him?”
“Why would I?”
“Because you were in love with him.”
“That was a long time ago. Besides, I know it’s not a Cryptology song. They were an all-male band.”
He pulls out his own phone and taps around on it, then he laughs. “Holy shit, Reece.”
“What is it?”
“Your ex is fucking famous.”
My throat tightens. Part of me wants to be happy that he achieved his dreams. The other part, the part that knows he’s a lyric-stealing bastard, wants to rip his head off. “If you tell me he plays for Aerosmith, I’ll kill you.”
“No, not Aerosmith.”
The way he’s staring at me is strange. “Who then?”
“I’m pretty sure you have about ten of their songs on your playlist.”
I swallow. “Tell me.”
“Reckless Alibi.”
My eyes go wide. I swipe his phone, scroll down, and tap on links to their albums. “They had an album released today.” I do more digging and find the names of the new songs. “Oh, shit. Look.”
“‘Swerve.’ You think this is your song?”
“It has to be.”
I search for that song specifically, wanting to find the lyrics, but nothing comes up.
“They’re probably not out there because it was just released,” he says. “Damn, do you know how successful they are?”
I download the song and listen to it two more times. “Why would he do this to me? Surely they don’t need to steal lyrics. They have plenty of hit songs.”
“What if they stole the lyrics to all their songs? I think you should sue him. Or them. Or whatever you do in this situation. They aren’t some one-hit-wonder band. They’re really hot. You might be able to get a lot of money.”
“You think?”
“Millions maybe.”
My mouth goes dry. “Millions?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
I lean back and pull a pillow onto my lap. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. They’re a successful band. I’m nobody. Who will believe me over them? I could be anybody claiming anything.”
“You write down all your lyrics, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Find them. There has to be some way to prove you wrote them six years ago.”