Free Always by Amanda Weaver

everybody’s fun since 2004. Ignore him and be happy. We are.”
    And for one night, she did ignore him. She stood next to him on stage. She sang his songs. But she was selfish about it, singing them her way and only for herself. She took the tempo of one song too fast, the way she’d always thought it should be, and the band had no choice but to keep up with her. She knew it would make David furious, but she didn’t care. She took massive chances on high notes just to show off, knowing David hated it when she did that. But she hit them all and the crowd went wild, so she kept doing it. She let it feed her high and imagined playing on the same stage as Outlaw Rovers in front of thousands.
    That night felt like the beginning of so many things for her. But she wondered if it was the beginning of the end of them.
     
    “So let me get this straight.”
    Justine groaned.
    “You’re drooping. Pick up your end.”
    She moved her side of the frame further up the wall. Emily leaned back and squinted through one eye to see if the picture was straight again. When she was satisfied it was, she popped up on tiptoe to carefully mark the smooth white wall where she wanted her painting centered.
    Emily had come down to LA the day before to hang some of her pieces in a small gallery show and her timing couldn’t have been better. As good as phone calls were, there was nothing like having Emily there in person. It was always easier to really talk when it was just the two of them curled up under a blanket on the couch drinking beers.
    But there was no safe couch or the numbing effects of alcohol to ease Justine into it this time. Emily had launched into her interrogation as soon as Justine had shown up at the gallery to help, and at this point, Justine would have been very grateful for a shot of whiskey or three.
    “I told you everything already.”
    “You told me you’re going out on this tour with this band— this guy — you’ve been idolizing for a year. And you’ve told me David is inexplicably upset about this amazing piece of good fortune.”
    “Furious .” Justine rolled her eyes. She rested her temple on her forearm as she braced her side of the picture, watching Emily scowl at the wall. Her wild dark hair was pulled back, twisted and speared with a chopstick, but huge messy curls had escaped and were half-obscuring her face. Her features were smaller and more delicate than Justine’s, lacking her dramatic beauty, but her dark eyes were sharp, lending her a no-nonsense presence that made her seem older than twenty-five. She was smaller than Justine, too, only five three, and looking even smaller in a pair of massive, paint-splattered overalls.
    “So explain to me why he’s mad again?”
    “Well, it’s so hard for David,” Justine said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “He has all these feelings and standards and things. And nobody ever takes music as seriously as he does. You can see how it would be such a burden.”
    Emily laughed. “That guy has always had the biggest stick up his ass. I just don’t get it. Who doesn’t want success? I mean, I’m a freaking fine arts painter and I’d be happy as hell to actually make a dollar or two on this. He acts like going on this tour would be like selling his soul.”
    “To David it is. Outlaw Rovers has a top ten single right now.”
    “And?”
    “That means it’s popular. You know, like with regular people. On the radio.”
    “Ahh, I see. He’s a snob.”
    “Total snob. He can’t bear liking something other people like. It makes him feel less smart. It’s what’s so great about Dillon. He’s this amazing, talented musician and he still has an appreciation for what people like. He makes songs people want to hear and they’re still good.”
    “And now we’re getting to the good stuff.”
    “What stuff?” Justine asked as she set her corner of the painting gently on the floor in tandem with Emily. They both stood up and Emily planted her hands on her