Moxie would simply never get tired of listening to Lana sing.

For someone who claimed to have no sense of direction when it came to being an artist, she knew her way around a recording studio better than most Moxie knew. Hell, even those who were born into the industry and knew it like the back of their hand since the day they were born. Lana would never allow Moxie to say it without protest, but she believed Lana outsing her, outperform her, outshine her any day of the week. Lana was naturally talented in that way people worked their entire lives trying to imitate, though Lana inherently understood what others strived for on a level that didn't require thought. Every note of every song unfolded in the perfect way that made every sound perfect. Although she had asked Moxie to join her in the studio to help fine-tune the song she was working on, Moxie couldn't think of a single note to give her, even when she racked her brain trying to come up with something for the sake of offering another opinion.

"How did that sound?"

Moxie pressed a button and spoke into the mic. "Perfect. I don't know how you do it."

Despite the shake of her head, Lana smiled before placing the headphones back on the stand and exiting the booth. She wore a Kings shirt that she snatched from their merch booth at the first show as if Moxie wouldn't have gotten her one of everything she wanted.

"I need you to be honest with me."

"I am being honest with you." Moxie slid the extra chair out with her foot and Lana sat down. "When have I ever not been honest with you?"

"You're too nice." Lana shook her head. "You don't like letting people feel even an ounce of self-doubt, so you sing their praises more than they probably need."

"Well, that's just..." Kind of true, when Moxie thought about it. She hated the idea that anyone would not feel supported by her, so she always tried to be optimistic and encouraging, even holding back when she knew she had something to say. But that wasn't the case here. Moxie genuinely couldn't find a single flaw in Lana's perfectly talented self. "I'm serious. That was great. Dad will love it."

"Maybe." Lana tossed her pink notebook onto the coffee table behind them. Papers and stickers and general junk sticking out between the bound pages. "Probably. He likes that I hate shitty men kind of theme."

"That's because he's dated some of the worst men known to mankind," Moxie remarked, unbothered.

Lana flicked her hair over her shoulder. "The difference is that he actually knows how to give me notes."

"He is still a man, after all. Can always trust them to give an opinion even when it's not warranted."

"Does it count as unwarranted when he's one of the reasons I'm even signed in the first place?"

Moxie stared. "A man. Enough said."

"Ay-yay, my favorite lesbian."

"Damn straight." She gave it a second thought. "Gay, I mean."

Lana laughed and let her head fall back so she could stare at the ceiling. Studios could get really quiet sometimes, for obvious reasons, but never with the kind of silence that felt uneasy, where thoughts would ruin rampant and make Moxie's head spin. It was a comfortable kind of quiet, especially with Lana's easygoing presence by her side.

The young starlet enjoyed recording in different cities whenever she could book a studio. She found it added to the allure of her songs feeling like snapshots of her life, glimpses of the places she was fortunate enough to visit. The Atlanta studio where they were holed up earned some bonus points for being across the street from some killer food. (Roxanne had volunteered to wait in line for them since she, in her own words, could not contribute shit to this song.)

Moxie snatched the writing journal from the table. How an artist saved their ideas was as fascinating as the words etched between the pages. Moxie preferred saving hundreds of voice recordings herself, though she did carry around something small for those moments when a voice recording wasn't possible. Mick's brain was a complete mystery as he somehow remembered every single idea he ever came up with and could recall it when needed. (That only worked in regards to his songwriting.) Stevie and Maverick were two halves of the same chaotic mess, which made both of their songwriting notebooks a creative feast. Of course, nobody beat the mastermind that was Rami Mansour. MARS' de facto leader was equal parts talented, creative, and just the right amount of organized.

Lana relaxed while she allowed Moxie to roam free through her songs. A lot of them were half-finished. Many were more scribbles than they were actual words. (At least the handwriting was legible, unlike others.) There were clear themes running throughout most of them. Her experiences as a woman—more specifically as a Black woman. The struggle of navigating a world run by men. Her queer identity. All traversed in Lana's signature delicate and vulnerable ways.

"How much have you recorded so far?" Moxie asked.

"Not much," Lana answered with her eyes closed. "Like, it's exciting to get back in the studio, but I don't want to rush anything, you know?"

Moxie nodded. "Sure. Yeah."

"Not that anyone is letting me breathe." Lana sighed. A few of her songs went viral on a certain cursed app recently, and now all of the media attention surrounding her has been pressuring her to release more music, even though she just released her first album last year. While there were good and bad parts of the rapidly changing landscape of the music industry, the short attention span of listeners made it difficult to navigate.

"The noise... you get used to drowning it out."

"Do you?" Lana laughed.

Moxie shrugged. "Sometimes. Most of the time. At least, I like to think so."

She wasn't sure how well she coped with the pressures of being a musician in 2024, but she liked to think she was doing a decently good job so far. And that if she wasn't, her parents would eventually step in and help.

"Do you ever just... get this idea in your head about something you want to do? Something you know you can do. And it's such a perfect thing that fits exactly who you are, and yet that certainty just kind of... makes it seem impossible? Like you'll never reach the full potential of what you're envisioning?"

Moxie admired her friend. All that humility and no overinflated ego.

"I think what you're feeling is... inevitable. And I get it. It's the human thing to do, second guess yourself when you're the one calling the shots. But I also think a lot of us put an unnecessary and unfair amount of pressure on ourselves, and we somehow have to find a way to push past it. Perfection is unobtainable because it's completely subjective. You should never feel bad about striving for something more, but you also shouldn't feel bad about knowing that what we end up with might just be something completely different than we thought."

Lana finally looked at her again, a smile on her face. "And that's why I love having you around."

"It's not because I bring that sort of... man-hating charm to the room?"

"Well, that too, of course."

Someone barged into the studio then, quite graceful but still abrupt nonetheless. Roxanne was juggling a couple of paper bags whose aroma of greasy food filled the air, along with a reusable bag used to carry three large bottles of water. Moxie would have said her timing was perfect and that they were all due for something deliciously unhealthy to eat, but the look on her face suggested that her timing had nothing to do with serendipity.

"Did the workers spit on our food or something?" Moxie asked before taking two of the bags.

"Huh?" Roxanne shook her head. "Oh, no. They were great. Gave us an extra order of cheese fries for free."

"Ooh, yum!" Lana dove into the bags and started sifting through the items.

Moxie wasn't convinced, though. Roxanne had been her friend for too long, seen too much of her in the most unflattering of light, to not know there was something on her mind. Moxie stared at her until Roxanne finally relented, pulling her phone out of her purse with a heavy sigh.

"This conversation can wait until after we eat. I don't want anyone throwing food at any walls. It'll be expensive to clean up."

"Is it important?"

Roxanne looked unsure of how to answer that question. "I guess it depends."

"On what?"

"On how much you care about your friends."

Moxie rolled her eyes. "Is that even a question?"

"I'm stalling, okay?" With a few clicks of her red-manicured fingers, Roxanne pulled something up on her phone. The hesitancy with which she handed it to Moxie did not go unnoticed, and Moxie probably would have taken her up on her offer of waiting until after being fed to read whatever it was that Roxanne didn't want her to see, except that she had no idea what it could be in the first place.

"It's Giovanni," Roxanne finally said. "That weirdo you said has it out for Eddie? He released a new article and... it's not cute."

...

sorry for the short chapter but thought we could use a quick one after the last. also, it took way too long to get this much bc our dog loki unfortunately passed last month and i just haven't been in a good mind space to write, so this was better than nothing.

if you've been following along after all this time, it really does mean a lot to me. excited to hopefully get back into a more steady and consistent posting schedule as we enter my favorite time of the year. muah