The Softer Side of Unbearable

Bailey Monroe waited outside in the dimly-lit parking lot. She shivered and watched her breath cloud out in front of her face. It was due to snow any day now, even though the Vancouver climate rarely housed the subzero temperatures. Bailey hated snow; she had often dreamed of growing up and moving to California. Now that she was actually an adult, however, she couldn't imagine ever leaving.

"Bailey?"

She looked up, suddenly alert. A dark figure lurked in the shadows. She should have been frightened, but she wasn't. She knew the voice all too well.

"What the hell took you so long, Spencer?"

"Sorry. I had a little trouble finding the place. It feels like you were trying to get me lost."

"I had to get out of buying the first round of drinks somehow, didn't I?"

Spencer's rail thin frame escaped the shadows and was thrust under a streetlight. "You did a piss-poor job, then, because I made it. And I think I deserve at least a triple."

Bailey grinned and crossed the gap between them, catching the boy in a hug. "Thanks for coming. I needed a night away."

Spencer hugged her back, his wiry arms squeezing her with more power than she believed possible. They broke apart and headed inside the dingy bar. Inside, the air was heavy and hot. A bead of sweat raced down the back of Bailey's neck as she crossed the room and caught the bartender's eye.

"Remind me why we came to such a dive?" Spencer hissed in her ear.

"Because I needed a change of scenery. Don't get me wrong, I'm really excited about everything that's happening, I'm just tired. And nervous."

Spencer immediately understood what she was referring to. She was due to start writing a new album with one of her idols the following day. Her band had just been picked up by a major record label, and she didn't have any new music prepared. And the label was impatient. So they had arranged to get her some help.

The two of them ordered their drinks and sat down on the nearest bar stools. Bailey found herself anxiously picking at a tear in the vinyl cover as she waited. Spencer swatted her hand away.

"I know it's not the nicest furniture, but thy still might get mad if you destroy your seat. You have no reason to be worried. It'll be fine."

"I've never been on a deadline before. The last album was so laid-back. It was on my terms. Now I'm answering to someone else. What if I mess up? What if I let the band down?"

Spencer chuckled. "You couldn't let them down if you tried. If they didn't like the kind of music you write, they wouldn't still be around."

"Yeah, but they're bound to get a better paycheck on this album. That might give them some added incentive to stick around." She laughed, knowing well enough that her band would stand by her no matter what. When they were on the road, they were her family. They had a bond that a few shitty songs just couldn't break.

Their drinks arrived, and the conversation lapsed for a moment. They didn't stay at the bar for long. It wasn't exactly the fun, relaxing environment that Bailey had been hoping for. In the end, they had gone back to Spencer's apartment. By the time they decided to go to sleep, Bailey had had a few too many drinks and had to sleep on the couch.

A lot of people drew the wrong conclusion when it came to Bailey and Spencer. They had been best friends since high school, but there was nothing more between them. In fact, Spencer was a homosexual. The only reason that people still assumed he was dating Bailey was because he was still in the closet. I feel a little bad for outing him now. He wasn't involved with Bailey's music career in any way, but he was there for everything. He helped her stay grounded; he always had an impartial opinion to share with her if she needed one. Besides her family, he was her biggest supporter.

"Bailey!" Spencer shook her roughly by the shoulders.

She groaned and rolled over on the couch. "I'm not awake. Go away."

"I'll send you a mug of coffee. Get your lazy ass up! You've got to be at the studio in an hour."

She sat bolt upright, glancing from one side of the room to the other in rapid succession. "What? Shit! I have no stuff here!"

Spencer laughed and walked away, heading toward the kitchen. "Relax. I've got some of your clothes here from the last time you spent the night. You have a habit of forgetting things. I have French vanilla and hazelnut cream for the coffee. Any preferences?"

"Hazelnut please," Bailey called as she darted into the only bedroom in the apartment. She pulled open the closet and found a neatly folded stack of clothes. She grabbed a pair of jeans and a hoodie, then swept her long blonde hair off of her neck and tied it with an elastic. She didn't look professional, but she was comfortable. And she was just going to be writing songs, so there was no reason to look good.

"Here you go," Spencer held out a metal travel mug as she rushed around the apartment.

"You're a lifesaver! Thank you."

"Good luck. Call me tonight with all the dirty details."

She arched an eyebrow as she pulled on her sneakers. "Dirty details? Since when does song writing include anything dirty? Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Call me anyways."

"Will do. See you later!"

Bailey had memorized the address of the studio long ago. She hadn't actually been there yet, so it took her a little longer than she'd planned. In the end, she showed up ten minutes late. She ran into the room, panting slightly from running all the way from her car.

"Are you okay?"

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized, dropping a book onto a side table. "I'm not really all that familiar with this area."

"It's fine, don't worry. Take a second to breathe, then we'll get started."

Bailey sat down in the only vacant chair in the room, right next to the tall boy with the black and blue hair. Josh Ramsay. She didn't know right then just how big of a part he would play in the rest of her life. I grew up calling him Uncle Josh, even though there is no actual blood relation. But I digress, that comes later.

Bailey found that she had a lot in common with Josh. He was a seasoned songwriter and musician, and he was able to give her some much-needed assistance. Though her band played rock music, he taught her the necessity of a catchy hook every now and then.

"I've got to say," he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it up off of his forehead. "When I listened to your first album, I didn't expect this."

Bailey frowned, looking down at her book of lyrics. "What do you mean? Is that a good or a bad thing?"

Josh laughed. "It's awesome, actually. I thought you were going to turn out to be another angsty, angry girl. But you really put a lot of heart and happiness into what you do. I think I'm going to have a lot of fun working on this album with you."

"I'm really looking forward to it. Just wait until you meet the rest of the band. You'll love them."

"You know, I've usually got some liquor stashed around here," he scanned over a nearby shelf. "It seems I'm fresh out. Want to go grab a drink after we finish this melody?"

She nodded. "Sure. Is it okay if I bring a friend? I'd be blacklisted if I didn't ask Spencer to come along."

Josh grinned. "Yeah, that would be fun. I'll bring some other people, too. Are you going to invite your band?"

"I suppose I could."

"The more the merrier."

"Alright, I'll call them up. I've got to go home and get ready; I was in a rush this morning and had to skip out on a shower. I kind of stink."

Josh leaned over and sniffed her shoulder. "You don't smell so bad. Touring must have a worse stench than one missed shower."

"Perfume and deoderant are magical inventions," she laughed. "That's all I have to say. That's how I get through tours."

"I have to agree with you there. Although I prefer cologne to perfume," he drew some notes onto the paper in front of him. "What do you think if we change the tune of the bridge just a little bit?"

She leaned over and looked at what he'd written. She hummed the notes to herself, then nodded. "I like it. It flows better into the chorus."

"I thought so, too." He finished jotting down the melody and showed her his accomplishment. "I think it's done."

"It's perfect. So we've officially completed a song. Thanks, Josh. I owe you."

"You can start by buying me a drink. Let's go."