Page 39 of A Tragic Melody

“You got it.” He pushes himself to his feet. “Thank you, you know, for doing whatever you did. I’m sure it won’t come cheap.”

“That’s the best part,” I snap. “It will cost me, and you get to live with that guilt. With knowing I’m going to suffer for you to play the fucking guitar. And that’s going to drive you crazy.”

“You’d like that, huh? Me going crazy for you? Too bad for you, that’s not going to happen.” He flashes me a smile. “I may go crazy, but never for you, Tuesday.”

When the door shuts behind him, I let out a scream.

I don’t understand how he still thinks he is so much better than me. I literally saved him. I got him back on this tour. He knows it cost me something, and still, he won’t submit to me. He still looks down on me. I hate it. I hate him. He has no right. He doesn’t even know me well enough to judge me. And after all this, he still wants to pretend like I’m less than him? It’s ridiculous.

He can get fucked. And I mean that literally.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I’m in deep shit.

Tuesday is fucking crazy. She is far gone and extremely dangerous. Beyond dangerous, really. Lethal is a better word for her. She could kill me. She pretty much ended me, and then decided to save me just so I could be her puppet.

I should’ve just gone home.

I’m going to end up in ruins, I’m just not sure how. At this point, it’s a toss-up on whether I’ll end up relapsing or fucking her. Or both.

If I fuck her, which she seems to want, it will be a death sentence. She will be able to use that against me. I’m not entirely sure what the relationship between Hendricks and her entails, but it’s clearly bad. It could be mutually beneficial, but I’m guessing it isn’t. She doesn’t seem overly happy about me knowing, and if he finds out I know, that could end badly for me. Us having sex would be the final nail in the coffin. If Hendricks found out, he would kill my career, if not me.

Relapsing is not out, either. Tuesday’s stash of drugs outdoes whatever mine once was. She uses openly, too, which doesn’t make it any easier on me. The idea she would force me to partake in her chaos isn’t the scary part, though—it’s the fact I want to. At this point, there is a huge part of me that just wants to give in, give up, get high, and forget about the rest of this bullshit.

The problem is if I don’t do as she says, she will lose her fucking mind, too. She clearly has a problem with my rejection. I don’t know why she cares so much. She hates me, but apparently can’t stand the fact I don’t want her. So, if I don’t do as she says, she will ruin me just as bad.

Pretty much I’m a dead man walking.

However, I refuse to go out easily. If she wants to burn me to the ground, I’m taking her down with me.

“Hey, Lenny,” I say, walking up to him before he takes the stage to play my songs.

“Hey.” He glances around, nervously.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine. Uh, listen. I just thought I was doing them a favor, you know? It wasn’t anything personal.”

“A favor?” I laugh. “You think you can go out there and play my songs? There is no way in hell you’re going to be able to play like me. It’s not happening. This favor? It’s going to blow up in your face and make you look bad. But me? I’m going to go out there and play her songs so much better than you ever could. No one is going to remember you ever played with her. You’ll be remembered as the guy who tried to fill shoes that were much too big for him. But sure, call it a favor. I’ll stick to calling it your downfall. Good luck.”

I walk away before he has a chance to reply, not that I think he’d have anything to say to that. What could he say? He could try to defend himself, but we both know I’m right, and tonight, so will everyone else.

Against my better judgement, I walk over to where Tuesday is, dancing to some music that’s playing. I take a seat across from her, watching her body sway to the beat.

She eyes me, a smile spreading across her face as she moves closer, her body still moving to the song playing.

It’s not hard to see why everyone loses their mind over her. She is very nice to look at.

I may only be romantically attracted to people based on their personality, but there is no denying she is good-looking. Her body is slender, scarily so, but still nice. Her tits are small, but perky. I don’t even think she is wearing a bra.

“I thought I told you to stay away from me?” Her gray eyes zero in on me. They are haunting, even when they are dilated from all the drugs.

“And I thought you’d realize by now I’m not scared of you.” I shrug. “Whatever damage you think you can do to me, I promise, I can do much worse.”

“Oh.” A cold, airy laugh leaves her mouth. “Threatening the woman who saved your sorry ass. Bold.”

“Yeah. I am, after all, better than you, right?”