Page 53 of Carte

Damn him, and his observing eyes. I hated that he could see everything, but still chose to be blind to what really mattered. “I’m fine. It’s going to be good. Besides, I can’t let the fans and the label down. Not after how much they put into me.”

Carter eyed me thoughtfully.

“Why do you do it?”

The question came out of nowhere.

I looked up at him, “Do what?”

“Why do you put yourself out there like that?”

I chuckled, “You mean why do I perform? It’s a high like no other. The feeling I get when thousands of people sing my songs back to me, to know they have a good time because of me. Because of my music,” I shook my head lightly, “It’s indescribable. I never saw myself as a great musician. Never even thought about trying to reach for it, but once it found me, I knew I couldn’t let it go. To be a part of someone’s life, to bring joy and share happiness. Or to be a comfort in their rough times, it’s…. It's become vital for me.”

Carter watched me, something working behind his cognac eyes, “That’s not what I mean.”

I tiled my head, “What do you mean then?”

“You give your whole self to them. To your fans. Your inner thoughts, your most private feelings. It’s all for grabs.”

I frowned. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Carter nodded like he wanted that level of confirmation that his words were true. “I hear your words. I’ve now seen how you write. And I feel the strain when you put everything in a melody or on a paper. You pour yourself, your true self into your music. It’s no wonder that someone fixated on that. People can feel this level of honesty, of rawness. And most of them, they’ll appreciate it. But some, some will want to tear it to pieces.”

I felt my lips part as his words hit me. Each one felt like a velvet blow. Each one fed my battered heart and lonely soul.

No one has ever seen me this clearly. No one has ever paid that much attention to me, to my art.

“And I didn’t hear the new stuff, I just heard you murmuring to yourself, or humming the melody, but I can feel it’s more. More than before. More you.”

How could it be that he’s seen so much, paid that much attention to me, and still refused to let go of whatever was keeping him away from me?

The question had anger curling in my belly.

The feeling of it was so hot, so uncomfortable, I couldn’t help but to lash out, “My lyrics are none of your business.”

I wanted him to yell at me that I was wrong. That it was his business. That I was his business. I wanted to push his buttons so he would react. So he would give me something.

Carter blinked at me, the cognac in his eyes going dark brown, but all I got was, “You’re right.” in a controlled voice.

I felt like he slapped me. “What?”

“You’re right. It’s none of my business,” his voice was cold.

Pain like I haven’t felt before surged up my throat. It was choking me, and I had to let it out.

I couldn’t go on like this anymore. I had to know.

“Do you even like me? Or am I just a paycheck?” I croaked. I hated that my voice broke. Hated that I showed him that weakness.

Carter’s jaw worked back and forth, “I’m your protection,” his words stung. “That’s it. I’m here to keep you safe. Nothing more.”

I felt my heart shattering into a million pieces, each piece tearing me up inside.

Looking down at my half eaten breakfast, I put the fork down, and stood up.

Without looking at him, I turned around and walked to my bedroom. I half expected him to call after me, even though I knew he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t cross that boundary.

The first tear came as I came to the door of my bedroom. Making sure I closed them softly, I slid down the wall.