Mayfly Melodies

Eighteen

Bailey

Country music is me. It's what I've grown up with and it's what I do—Scotty McCreery

Most days, Bailey could bring herself to be happy about the fact that Chasing Mayflies had broken up. She could see the benefits from being on her own: to writing music that she enjoyed, to having a bit of time off to find herself — and her sound again — to spending time with the people that she cared about. On those days, she could think of Mae and Kyra and not feel upset or angry or resigned.

Today was not one of those days.

At half-past three on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, she'd heard the announcement on the radio. A little over two-and-a-half weeks had passed since the band had fallen apart and Bailey had arrived home. It seemed like much longer, a time period that she could measured in months or years and not weeks.

But, after recognizing the short span of time that she'd really been home, Bailey had been shocked by the report. Kyra Ward was releasing her first solo album with her new label Millennium Records and it was due to be out in a little over four weeks.

This was an insane schedule. Assuming it went as planned, Kyra would be releasing her first album without Bailey and Mae after only seven weeks apart. Either she'd been planning on leaving the group for much longer than she'd let on or she hadn't written any of her own music and instead had brought in a lot of outside aid to help her finish the album.

Bailey suspected the latter.

It wasn't that she begrudged Kyra any success. Deep down she actually hoped that her album did well and that Kyra had a long successful career. On the surface, Bailey was angry.

Kyra had never worked hard for Chasing Mayflies. She'd kicked back, relaxing as she'd let Bailey and Mae do all the grunt work. Everything the band was, Kyra owed it to them. The only thing Kyra had ever contributed was her voice and even then it had been a rough gift to accept.

Without a doubt, Kyra could sing. She'd always had a strong voice that was more than capable of hitting a high note and not making it sound like she was screaming. But what Kyra lacked was discipline. She could sing but after a few songs she tended to get bored and sloppy. She would fall in and out of tune constantly, causing them all to have to restart recording sessions or pray that none of their fans noticed during a concert.

And still, Kyra received most of the credit. The media loved her. They loved her edgy look and dark eyes. They loved her voice. They loved that she, alone of the three members in the band, could consistently be counted on in some form of scandalous affair. She'd been in the media more often than anyone else in country music.

It was Kyra's name that was always printed first on billboards and magazine articles. It was her name that was shouted out at award shows before Bailey and Mae. It was Kyra's name that fans asked for first when having something signed.

The only time Bailey's name ever came first was where it should have mattered. In the credits of each song where she was listed as the primary songwriter. But no one really cared about that anymore. With so many people writing music, who cared about one lowly girl from one of the most popular country trios currently recording who never seemed to be involved in scandal?

No one. That was the answer. No one cared.

And for the first time since Bailey had left Nashville, she actually felt furious.

She was sitting in her room, perched on the middle of her bed. Her guitar was sitting in her lap and her song writing book was open in front of her. She stared down at a blank sheet, lyrics and chords flying about her head. There was a part of her that wanted to be bitter, to write a song out of anger. But there was a larger part of her, a more logical and reasonable part, which wanted to write a song that would be far better, far more emotional, than one that Kyra could ever dream of singing.