New Single

Macy backed out of her driveway, 99.3FM still on a commercial break. They were playing that dumb ad for whichever hybrid car was supposed to save the planet. Finally, she heard the friendly voices of Jay and Monica. 

“Welcome back to Jay and Monica on KPST 99.3, where we are pleased-”

“Ecstatic, Jay!”

“-ecstatic to be bringing you the new, highly-anticipated single from The Knockoffs!”

“Their new album drops May 24th, and the single is called, ‘On Your Way Out’.”

The song started with some raw guitar chords and whizzing synth. Macy didn’t care much for The Knockoffs, but at least she’d have something to talk about with Jill at work today; the band was Jill’s one obsession. Macy stopped at a red light and reached for her coffee.

“You said you couldn’t stand me when I’m drunk

That I was just a punk 

That my ship had sunk”

Macy was frozen. Behind her, a car honked. The light had turned and cars were moving. She gunned it.

 “Well Macy if you feel that way, don’t trip on your way out!”

He was a punk. Ty was an impulse buy; sun-kissed hair, drummer in a local band, and seemed fun. And he was fun, at least until Macy got to know him, when she realized that he was rude, juvenile, and couldn’t keep his drumstick in his pants. She tried breaking up with him one morning, but he had a hangover (again) and he wouldn’t remember anything anyway, so she hastily wrote some lyrics– Ty had told her that she could probably write better lyrics than Quinn, their lead singer– and stormed out, never to come back. Ty called that evening with the untimely retort that made it into the single, to which Macy simply laughed and hung up. 

Once she was at work, Macy was able to distract herself with the stacks of papers to be processed. This lasted until lunch. In the break room, Jill forwent the bite of salad that was on her fork in order to leap up to greet Macy.

“So... you never told me you hooked up with Quinn Mayfield,” gushed Jill, hovering over the fridge door as Macy reached for her lunch. 

“I didn’t,” said Macy, annoyed that she was thinking about Ty’s song again. She tried to change subjects. “Do you think the construction will be done by April like they promised?”

“Whatever, Macy. You heard the new single, I assume?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“So? It’s not like there are that many chicks named Macy in the world. And you’re from Monterey, which is where–”

“I know where they’re from,” Macy snapped.

“Jeez, Macy. Just asking.” Jill drifted back to her salad, and Macy popped her linguine into the microwave. By May 24th, Jill would know that Ty wrote the lyrics and she’d ask about it again. Macy sighed. Better get it out of the way now.

“Remember how I said I dated a drummer in college?”