Jessa had spent the last few days telling me, over and again, that Seth never raped her. He’d never forced her, never threatened to stop feeding her drugs if she didn’t put out. But her words of reassurance did fuck all to calm the ugly black rage festering inside me every time I thoughtaboutit.
Yeah; I’d have to get on that anger managementthing.Soon.
I headed over to where Maggie was slumped back in a pew, feet up, half-listening to Jessa and Jesse as she worked on herlaptop.
“No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong,” Jesse was saying. “It’s ‘If you could only be…’ and then it’s ‘dirty like me…’ and then thechorus.”
“No,” Jessa said. “No fucking way. You should’ve dropped the chorusafterthat first hook, then it’s ‘If you could see.’ You’re fucking up the song. It’s aprogressionof emotion. You can’t have the ‘If you could see’ before the ‘If you could be.’ How can you see that you are something if you haven’t even beenityet?”
“It’s about the other person seeing it inme,though.”
“No, it’s about the singer of the words seeing it inhimself.”
“So it’s not about you, the listener, anyway, it’saboutme.”
“No. You’re notgettingit.”
“What the fuck, Jessa,” Jesse grumbled, playing a couple of lines from the chorus. He hummed along irately as Jessa grinned toherself.
“This been going on a while?” I askedMaggie.
“Uh-huh.”
“I thought they already wrote ‘Dirty Like Me,’” I said, amused. “Tenyearsago.”
“Uh-huh. They’re rearranging it. You know, for shits and giggles.” She rolled her eyes. “Artists.”
“Perfectionists.” I headed up toward the stage. “Quit kicking that horse,” I told them as I approached. “It’sdead,yeah?”
Jessa looked up at me, smiling. “We’re just messingaround.”
“Yeah. Because my sister informs me that I played it, quote, ‘all wrong’ on thesolotour.”
“You did,”shesaid.
“How was itwrong?”
“I justtoldyou.”
“Lyricists,” Jesse bitched. “Think you know everything. Learn to tune your guitar properly andwe’lltalk.”
“I know how to tune myguitar.”
“Not well enough to hear how that song is supposed tosound.”
“Iwrotethat song,jackass.”
“You wrote the words, baby. Not the samething.”
“Without which, you all would have no song. Nohitsong, which made you rich andfamous.”
“She’s right,” I said. “Hate totellya.”
“Don’t take her side just because she’s cute and she knows how torhyme.”
“Ugh. You’re suchadick.”
Jesse grinned a shit-eatinggrin.
