Page 42 of A Tragic Melody

Her praise feels good. Knowing I’ve impressed her is more than just winning a battle. It’s good to know she sees my skill. It’s a shame we couldn’t have started out as two people playing music together, or even friends.

All I know is being Tuesday’s enemy is starting to feel old.

“So did you sell your soul to a crossroad’s demon for your guitar skills?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest after our set. I stand, glancing over the rack of guitars before the techs load them. I’m trying to make sure they are all accounted for. “You had to. There is no way you should’ve been able to play that song so well without some kind of devil magic.”

“Don’t be mad.” I laugh. “You tried to trick me, and failed. It’s okay. You can try again at the next show.”

“Wyatt,” she suddenly says softly, and I glance over at her. Her back is to me now, though. “I think I’m going to need a rain check on tonight.”

“Huh?”

“Hendricks is here,” she whispers.

I look up just in time to see him walking up to us. Her body tenses.

“Ah. My two golden stars.” His hand slams down on my shoulder, gripping onto it tightly. “It’s good to see you two getting along. You are getting along, right?”

“Trying,” Tuesday says. Her voice is fake but cheerful.

“Trying?” he asks, squeezing my shoulder. “I would think this guy would be extra nice, given everything you’ve done for him.”

“I am,” I say firmly. “I owe her my life.”

“Smart kid.” He releases my shoulder. “Wyatt, why don’t you give Tuesday and me a moment to chat? I want to make sure she is okay with the new changes.”

“Sure. I’ll see you on the bus, Tuesday.”

“Yeah.” She nods.

“Keep your nose clean, kid.” Hendricks shoots me a hard look before his eyes go back to Tuesday.

I don’t bother replying. I simply grab my bag and head out the building to wait on the bus.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Hello, sir.” I smile, trying to come across happy to see him. “It’s nice seeing you so often.”

I’m lying through my fucking my teeth. It’s not nice to see him. He is supposed to leave me alone while I’m on tour, and I hate that he keeps showing up. My plan was to fuck around with Wyatt tonight. I’m very curious to see how big his cock is.

It was mildly frustrating to have him go out there and play so damn good. I tried to throw him a curve ball, but apparently, he is a fucking genius with a guitar. Nothing rattles the guy on stage.

It’s kind of hot, in a I want to rip his face off kind of way. It became obvious when we were both out there together that he should’ve picked me to begin with. We sound great together, play well off each other.

He slowed down a few parts to match my voice better. It heightened the whole experience, and now I need to find out that he has a tiny dick or something. There is no way he is that talented and packing. That would be entirely unfair.

“Are you dense?” Hendricks whispers harshly, pulling me back to the present. “I shouldn’t be here at all. Do you have any idea what I risk every time I show up to one of your shows?”

“No,” I whisper back. “I guess I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“It’s an enormous deal. I don’t show up to shows anymore. Between Wyatt and you, it’s like trying to control a fucking hurricane. Abbey Dark and Haunting Memories are on a break, so I need this tour to go smooth, but you two keep fucking it up. I need you to capitalize on this chance of a lifetime I gave you, but instead you keep causing trouble.”

The tech guys move around us, wheeling out the sound equipment. He glances towards them before looking back at me. The glare on his face scares me a little. Maybe I pushed too far.

“And now I have your mother on my ass, demanding more money. Tell me why I should pay her when you can’t keep your end of the bargain?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” I let my eyes drop to the floor. I need to come across apologetic. “I probably don’t deserve it. But I’m trying, sir. I really am.”

His hand latches onto my wrist, and my body jerks out of surprise. His nostrils flare as he stares me down.