Page 31 of Two Hit Wonder

"I listened. I disagreed."

Iona set her guitar down. "What if we tried the variation I suggested yesterday again? Just to see?"

"No."

Ellie and Cam exchanged looks. Even Mo had pulled out one earbud, watching the exchange with the first sign of interest she'd shown all morning.

Maeve crossed her arms. "The song is structured the way it's structured for a reason."

"And what reason is that?"

"Because I wrote it that way."

"That's not a reason. That's stubbornness."

"It's artistic integrity."

"It's stubbornness dressed up in a fancy coat."

Maeve's eyes narrowed. "You're very opinionated for someone who spent the last fifteen years getting married."

"And you're very rigid for someone who claims to be creative."

They stared at each other. Iona kept her expression pleasant, her voice light, because she knew from long experience that nothing infuriated Maeve more than someone who refused to rise to her bait.

"Fine," Maeve said finally, through gritted teeth. "Show me again."

Iona picked up her guitar and played the alternative progression. She watched Maeve's face as she played, looking for any crack in that stony expression.

There. A flicker of something. Interest, maybe. Or just irritation. Hard to tell with Maeve.

"It's not terrible," Maeve admitted, which from her was practically a standing ovation.

"High praise."

"Don't push it."

They ran the song again with the new bridge. It still wasn't quite right, but it was closer.

Ellie reached for her water bottle. It slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. She stared at her hand for a moment, flexing her fingers, then bent to pick it up.

"Butterfingers," she said lightly. "Didn't sleep well last night."

Then another voice piped up. "You sound shit," Mo announced from the wall.

Everyone turned to look at her.

"Mo," Iona said through gritted teeth.

"What? You do. It's boring. There's no energy." Mo shrugged, already putting her earbuds back in. "I'm going outside. The acoustics in here are giving me a headache."

She walked out before anyone could respond, the door swinging shut behind her. Iona closed her eyes and counted to ten again. "I'm so sorry," she said finally. "She's fourteen. She doesn't have a filter."

"She's not wrong, though," Cam said. "We do sound a bit shit."

"Cam."

"What? We're competent. We're technically fine. But we sound like we're going through the motions." Cam twirled a drumstick between her fingers. "We need to find the spark again. Whatever made us sound like us. Especially if we’re going to do a show."