“Hey, everyone!”

Jay calls out into the neutrally colored room, his ghostly form phasing through the door.

Each person in the room turns to look at him, their faces all shifting to confusion and horror.

The first thing Jay notices is that he doesn’t recognize any of these faces. The second thing he notices is that each of those faces appears to still be alive.

A middle-aged woman sitting in the cushioned chair to his left asks, “Are you… are you dead?”

Jay nods, “Yes? I thought that’s what this group was for. Support for musicians that died?”

A younger man that sits across from where Jay stands says, concerned, “No, that’s not what this is. This is support for one-hit wonders; you know, musicians who have one good song that everyone knows, but the artist goes unrecognized?”

The people around the circle all nod at Jay, and he continues to stand awkwardly. He’s not sure if he should leave. While the group isn’t necessarily for him, he does still feel as though he requires support, and he’s not sure where else he’s going to get it.

The woman from before must realize this, because she says cautiously, “I mean, you can stay if you’d like? I’m not opposed to it, and I’d guess everyone here is fine with it.”

Jay beams, happy to have been accepted by the group. He floats to the closest chair, attempting to sit in it, before remembering he doesn’t have a full form. He settles for sitting on the ground in front of the chair, instead.

Another man, this time appearing to have many years on Jay, with a white beard, asks him, “So, why’d you show here? What’s your

story? You’re young, you can’t have been making music very long.”

Jay replies, “I’d only released one album with my band, but we quickly got popular. We’d been just about to release another one before… well, I got hit by a bus that was, funnily enough, a tour bus for our rival band. The Outside Whispers couldn’t wait to get rid of me.” Jay laughs quietly, a hint of pain scraping through at his rough circumstance.

A younger woman in the group gasps, and everyone turns to look at her. She blushes softly before saying quietly, “Are you Jay Roman? From The Jays and the Joys?”

Jay exclaims, “Yes! That’s me!”

She continues, “I’ve heard the new album! It’s really wonderful, you did a great job with it. They’re playing a few of the songs on the radio.”

Jay stops, his smile dropping instantly. Of course, he’s happy that the album clearly sold well. All his hard work paid off, in the end.

But he had expected the guys in his band to wait a while before they pushed it out. I mean, Jay has hardly been dead for a month. It seems like they hardly grieved him at all.

The young woman sees the hurt look on his face and says hurriedly, “Oh, sorry, did I upset you? What did I do, I’m so sorry-“

Jay interrupts, “No, no, it’s okay. I just thought they’d… you know, I hoped they’d wait at least a few months before they released the album. Paid a tribute to me, at least. I did start the band, after all.”

Silence washes over the room, and Jay can tell based on their faces that the band had not, in fact, mourned him publicly at all. He tries to think back on what he could’ve possibly done. Did he do something wrong that would cause the rest of the band to act as though he’d never existed?

Oh.

He remembers now; the night before he died, they’d gotten in a huge argument. Jay had suggested splitting off from their label, since their record had done so well, they might benefit more from having more control over their music. The rest of the guys had strongly disagreed, shouting at him, claiming they needed the support from the label in case their album flopped, and they were left stranded.

Jay was sure that wasn’t going to happen. Since he had the most authority in the band, he had planned to separate from the label the next day. He’d never gotten the chance.

They were probably happy he’d died. It saved them the worry.

Jay would make sure they’d regret it. As soon as he gets his hands on their label, he’s going to make sure they’ll pay for their indifference.