Band On The Run

Violet

Sometimes it felt as if someone should just yell at me “Exit stage right, you’ve been on long enough!”

And I’d be grateful.

But sadly that wasn’t happening any time soon.

To be honest, the moment I’d heard those words, I’d suddenly taken a dive into the back of my head, the cellphone I’d been holding slipping from my fingers and landing on the couch with a soft thump. However I didn’t notice. I didn’t notice anything.

Selling of The Spares catalog? That meant all the rights on everything concerning The Spares that UAE had held onto would be sold off to the highest bidder… All the musical rights would be gone, and be up to whoever bought them to figure out what they wanted to do with them. The songs would be in commercials, ads, anything and everything. It was the worst possible thing that could happen to a serious artist’s music.

Never had I ever contemplated that this might happen.

When The Spares had broken up, not one of us – not even the absentee – had second thoughts about leaving the musical rights to UAE Records. We would have liked to have it in our names, but that would have taken a lot of money – not that we had minded – but time in order to fight it in court since the contracts we’d signed had specifically put the catalog in UAE’s rights. And we had been so worn out and bitter by the end of it, we hadn’t wanted to drag it out even further.

It was just supposed to be a clean break. And none of us had had doubts about leaving the rights in Maureen’s control. Sure, she thought with a business mind most of the time, but she was also the one person that would think of what was best for the music.

This wasn’t Maureen though.

Suddenly my numb body regained some feeling and the sensation of warm hands pressed on my cheeks had me snapping back into the presence.

For a moment I just blinked at Nick, his eyes raw with worry, his face close to mine and his mouth moving but I heard no sound. Shaking my head slightly, I finally tuned into the words that were coming from his mouth.

“… happening? Keely, who was that? What were they saying? Babe, c’mon.”

I just stared back at him, not knowing what to say.

What could I say to him?

He would have no idea what I was feeling. He obviously no longer cared about the music the same way I did. He wasn’t a part of The Spares. He just wouldn’t know.

“Just say something,” Nick begged, the anxiety from his face jabbing knives of guilt into my stomach.

However, this time I didn’t listen to them.

“I –” I started off, but broke up, having to swallow the sudden dryness in my throat. “I’ve got to go, like now.”

Before he could stop me, I stood up, not even bothering to brush his hands away, just knocking them off. Ignoring his protests, I stumbled from the room, grabbing the purse and guitar that I’d left at the door. I barely even had time to shout vaguely, “See you,” before the door slammed behind me.

The ride back to my apartment was a blur. There was a light misty rain coming down, and I believe I walked half way before grabbing a cab without seeing anything. I even thought that I passed Jay in the hall, but I didn’t so much as acknowledge him or watch for his reaction when we brushed by one another, instead I unlocked my door mechanically, slamming it behind me with those wide eyes.

Maybe it would have been worth it to just run away.

I mean, I was losing everything I’d ever stayed for. They were taking away my music. I’d always prided myself in the fact I was one of the few artists that had ever got to stick to their principles, got to keep their soul.