by S.J. Drew
us a minute? I'd like to ask him about the fan.”
“Sure, no problem. Things have quieted down a bit in there, but we're gettin' near last call,” the manager replied, and threaded through the crowd to find the bouncer. In the meantime, Maryann stashed away the pen and envelope and continued to help load the gear.
In about fifteen minutes, a very large, beefy-looking man joined them at the back door. “Mind if I smoke?” he asked.
Maryann looked like she was about to say something, but Leah put her hand on her arm and shook her head. The redhead closed her mouth.
“Sure, go ahead,” Leah said.
“Are you Joe?” Isabella asked.
“Yep. Mr. Perry said you took the stuff,” Joe answered.
“Has this sort of thing happened before?”
“Oh yeah. Usually it's some chick trying to give a guy her, um, lacy things, but yeah. This seems pretty innocent,” he said with a laugh.
“What did this guy look like?”
“Oh, I don't pay that much attention unless I have to throw them out. He was shorter than me, looked kind of young, but then again, everyone looks kind of young to me now,” he said with another laugh. “He had these really big glasses with square, black frames, like something out of the '80s I think. Must be something retro, right? Anyway, once I agreed to take the stuff, he stopped bothering me and I stopped worrying about him.”
“Well, thanks,” Isabella said.
“Sorry. He didn't give me a name or anything or I would have told Mr. Perry.”
“I'm sure it's fine,” Maryann said with a sigh.
“Well, I've been doing this for a long time,” Joe said. “Maybe it's fine, but maybe that letter says something real nasty.”
“Oh, we're used to that sort of thing. We monitor comments on our website pretty closely,” Leah said. “And we always check our email on a dedicated laptop just in case someone sends us a nasty virus.”
“Oh, well, sounds like you're on top of it.” He finished off his cigarette. “Well, it was a pretty good show. I'm sure Mr. Perry will be calling your agent about booking you again.”
“That's great!” Maryann said.
“'Night, ladies,” the bouncer said, and went back inside.
“Too bad he didn't help with the really heavy stuff,” Nora sighed. They finished loading and headed to a hotel. It was clear Maryann could hardly wait to read the letter.
The band got to adjoining rooms, as per usual, and split up as per usual. They kept the adjoining door open until they were actually ready to go to sleep.
“Okay, let's vote - fan mail or hate mail,” Leah said.
“That's not nice,” Maryann said.
“She got a present with the letter, so I'm going to say fan mail,” Nora replied.
“I'm with Nora,” Isabella agreed.
“Ah, but the pen could be part of some insult. I'm going to say hate mail,” Leah said.
“You guys,” Maryann pouted, and opened the letter.
“Well, read it,” Leah said.
“'Dear Anna, you play with passion and fire. The songs should also be full of passion and fire. Try this, and put everything you have into it, and see what happens.'”
“So that was nice, except for the insult to our collective songwriting abilities,” Nora said.
“So mostly fan, some hate?” Leah said. “I'm what, twenty-five percent right?”
“Sure.”
“You guys,” Maryann sighed.
“Well, I'm ready to get some sleep,” Isabella yawned.
“Me too,” Nora agreed.
“I want to try out my new pen,” Maryann said.
“Hey, then that's Leah's problem. Don't stay up too late,” Nora said, and closed the adjoining door.
“You're not going to make me sleep with a pillow over my head again, are you?” Leah asked.
“I just want to make sure it works,” Maryann replied, walking over to the desk and pulling out some ink. “You know I love pens and stuff.”
“Yeah, we know. You're so old-fashioned sometimes.” She crawled into bed and shut off the light between the two beds, then pulled a pillow over her head and went to sleep.
Maryann pulled the pen out. She couldn't tell if it was a new pen in an old style or an old pen in good shape. She drew ink up into the well and opened her notebook. She reviewed a few fragments she had written and finally turned to a completely blank page and then started to write.
The band was on the road again the next day, with Isabella at the wheel as per usual. Nora worked through their various social media sites and occasionally damned the lack of reception while Leah planned a shopping trip for some more fabric and was looking up prices. Maryann had her notebook out, but she had a regular ball-point pen in her hand and didn't feel particularly inspired.
“How late did you stay up?” Leah asked, seeing Maryann yawning again.
“Oh, not so late. I like the new pen. I started on a brand new song.”
“That's good. We can always use more material,” Isabella said.
“Speaking of which,” Leah interjected, “I need some fabric and some help with the next set of costumes.”
Maryann and Nora kind of groaned.
“What? You guys just glue and sew buttons,” she said irritably.
“I always stick my finger or burn it,” Maryann replied. “Look, I've still got a scar,” she said, pointing at a brownish dot on her wrist.
“Hey, either we get a separate trailer for our costumes instead of just the one small trunk, or you guys help me out when I recycle our old costumes.”
“Leah's right,” Isabella said. “This is the most cost-effective way to change up our looks.”
“Hey, did anyone ask about the pen?” Maryann asked.
“Nope,” Nora replied. “But I'll let you know. I doubt anyone will, though.”
Maryann sort of shook her head and went back to her songwriting efforts.
“Maryann, are you feeling okay?” Leah asked a couple of weeks later as they hauled their luggage into a hotel room after a show. “You're sounding a little off lately.”
“Off?”
“You know, off. Like you're a little off the beat or like you're just not quite playing like yourself.”
“I have been tired lately,” Maryann said.
“Then go to bed earlier. I think you're staying up too late trying to write songs for us. That's great and all, but we still need you to play,” Leah replied.
“I know, I know.”
“When are we going to see these songs anyway?”
“I don't know. When they're ready, I guess. The lyrics are right, but I'm having a hard time with the music.”
“Huh. I thought you usually had a harder time with the lyrics.”
“Yeah, I know, right?” Maryann said with a shrug.
“So, are you going to bed?”
“I'll be right there.”
Leah sighed and rightly guessed Maryann was going to stay up too late again.
In the morning, Maryann made some noise when the alarm rang but just rolled over and went back to sleep. Leah got dressed and joined the others for breakfast.
“How did it go?” Isabella asked.
“She admitted she stayed up too late and then did it again anyway. I told her she was off during the shows,” Leah answered. “So she knows better now.”
“I didn't think that would work,” Nora sighed.
“It's not really like her, though,” Isabella countered. “She's usually thinking about the good of the band.”
“Maybe she thinks these songs are really awesome,” Leah said.
“Well, if we could see them then we could let her know if she needs to keep spending time on them,” Nora said. “Can you go get her notebook before she wakes up this morning?”
“She says they aren't ready.”
“Well, I'd still like to see them.”
“I'm not going to take her stuff with
out permission,” Leah said stubbornly.
“I agree,” Isabella said quickly, “for now. But if this keeps going, I'd be interesting in finding out if she's writing anything at all. And maybe we can figure out what to do. We might have to find a doctor or something if this keeps up too much longer.”
“I guess,” Leah sighed. “I still don't like the idea of going through her stuff.”
“I don't either, but I'm wondering if she's really obsessed or just having trouble sleeping,” Nora said. “I mean, either way she's not playing like herself, and maybe how we deal with this doesn't change, but it would be nice to know the cause.”
“I guess that's fair.”
After a week the situation had not improved. Nora and Isabella had also expressed to Maryann that her playing was suffering and that she seemed tired all the time. She told them she'd get more sleep, but Leah knew she wasn't. Leah tried staying up one night to convince her to go to bed and they just ended up arguing the entire night and neither of them slept. So when Maryann slept through the alarm again, Leah took her notebook off the desk and joined the other two for breakfast.
“So, what are we going to do?” Leah asked.
“Well, let's see if she's really doing anything at all,” Nora replied, and flipped through the notebook. “Seems normal,” she said, scanning through the pages. “Wait, no, this is different.” Maryann's usual style of a few lyrics on one side of the page with bars of music on the other had changed abruptly. There were now pages of lyrics and almost no music at all. All the lyrics were written with the same pen and the same color ink, whereas it seemed usually Maryann preferred to switch up pens and ink colors. “This is a lot of writing, even for Maryann.”
The other two crowded next to her to read.
“Wow,” Leah said after a few minutes. “This is really good.
