Page 92 of Pink and Country

My fingers strummed the first chords of “Pink and Country,” but I sang with no conviction, my eyes glued to the two women about to rip each other’s eyes out. At this rate, my heart would stop by the end of the song, and they’d have to take me out on a stretcher. Drops of sweat rolled down my back.

April’s face flushed, and Savannah’s eyes bulged out of their sockets as she let what looked like venom—and probably tasted like venom too—out of her mouth. I’d been subject to Savannah’s spite too many times to keep count. The gleam in her eyes didn’t lie. I’d recognize the satanic spark anywhere. The pressure in my larynx strangled me.

Savannah had said the most awful things to me during our time together. She even slapped me once or twice when I refused to argue with her. I’d never given her the chance to pin me as a violent man. Her game was obvious, but too weak to leave or too blind or both, I stuck around like a fool. The small scar on the side of my skull, where she threw a porcelain plate at me the day I left her, tingled.

How did I ever fall for her charade? I kicked myself in the head mentally for ever thinking Savannah could change. That she could do it for me.

The first time I saw her, at a movie premiere I’d been invited to because one of my songs was featured on the soundtrack, she seemed scared and lost in the crowd. I went to her, and we hit it off instantly. That night, Savannah was humble, funny, and down-to-earth. Nothing like the woman she was with whom I lost two years of my life.

Later, we went for a midnight snack, and I agreed to follow her to her hotel room. We crossed paths at events in the following weeks and started seeing each other on and off. That’s when Carla decided to portray us as the perfect couple. It took six months before Savannah turned into this evil version of herself. I always wondered which version of her was the real one. The genuine human being or the master manipulator in disguise. For months, I hoped she’d turn back into the nice and charming woman I met. Never happened.

… You are the sunshine in my storms

You color my night sky

You are the star I wish upon every night…

The verses flew out my mouth, and I closed my eyes, trying to calm the storm raging inside me and the shakiness of my fingers. My only wish was to scrape the lining of my throat. It was itchy. And as arid as the desert.

“Pink and Country” was one of the most emotional songs I’d written in a long time. April inspired every word. In a cruel twist of fate, she was the one not paying me any attention as I sang her song. Tonight, the words burned my tongue. They turned to acid.

My throat worked as my gaze stayed on my woman facing the female version of Lucifer.

Two years ago, the damaged side of me believed Savannah Prince was the best I could do. My eyes burned. Were those tears blurring my vision? How could I ever have been so clueless? Icicles lodged in my lungs. Each time she smiled, April was erasing fragments of the mess I’d been living in for the last six years.

…You’re my compass

My muse and my other half

Babe, I’ll never let you go

This is my promise to you…

My fingers strummed the last chords. I let out a shaky breath. “Thank you, all y’all. Be generous tonight.” I sprung to my feet and scurried offstage, a bad feeling crippling me. People applauded, but it didn’t reach my ears.

April stormed away a minute ago.

I saw her. I saw everything.

The tightness around my heart increased. Splints made of wrath and guilt pierced through it.

April leaving was a punch in the guts. If I hurried, I’d catch her and maybe save the night.

Were Riley and June right about April not being ready yet to be in my world? Would tonight leave her with such a bad aftertaste she’d leave for good on Sunday? I buried my face in my hands and inhaled.

The thought of her leaving was enough to shatter my heart into a million pieces. I doubted meeting someone who felt like the extension of yourself occurred twice in a lifetime.

Something powerful brewed between us. Something unique and exciting.

Ed pressed his big hand on my shoulder when I passed him backstage. The guy with the stretched earlobes grabbed my guitar. Ed leaned closer.

“Taylor is watching her. She’s fine. Come with me.”

My bodyguard parted the crowd, and I shadowed his six-foot-seven giant self. Taylor and Ed had been my security detail for the last five years, and I considered them my friends. They traveled the world multiple times by my side. They’d witnessed the best sides of me, but also the worst.

I trusted them with my life. And trusted them to take care of April too. But tonight, Taylor had failed. Anger bubbled inside me, but I managed to keep it down. Now wasn’t the time to let my fury slip out.

Taylor neared me as I entered a small room adjacent to the staff’s break room. Self-loathing swam in his dark eyes.