Page 57 of A Tragic Melody

“Exactly.”

“Turn me up in his mic,” she says over her shoulder to the sound guys. “But if you fuck this up, Wyatt, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“I’d be so lucky to sleep through you killing me.” I chuckle.

We practice a few parts of different songs to adjust the sound in my earpiece. She doesn’t fight back once, just lets me call out changes.

After sound check, Tuesday starts drinking. I know she’s already done some drugs today, but as she begins to drink, I find her hard to watch.

She spins around to music, dragging guys from Black Cat to dance with her while Derrick sulks in a corner. He may have been the one to stop whatever was going on between them, but he still hates the fact she is openly flirting with other guys right in front of him.

I’m not thrilled about it myself, but for different reasons. She knows it’s dangerous for the men she messes around with, but does it anyway. It feels extremely selfish, but right now I don’t care. Let her ruin Black Cat, then they will never get to play my songs again.

I still haven’t heard back from Veritas if they are allowed to keep my songs or not. From the sounds of it, they will be able to play them, but pay me royalties. I assume the final say all depends on how this tour ends. Will they keep me with Tuesday? Move me back to Black Cat? Find me a new band? Will I be stuck writing songs in a studio for the rest of my two-year contract?

Until Hendricks decides what to do with me after this, my fate is in limbo.

There isn’t a chance in hell he will let me continue playing for Tuesday—at least I hope not. It’s only been a few days, and I already feel drained. I was already struggling to stay sober as it was, but that urge has increased the more I’m forced to be around her.

Now I stand outside, calling Andrew, my sponsor, hoping for some advice. He answers after a few rings.

“Wyatt.”

“Hey.” I sigh. “How goes it?”

“It’s fine. How are you doing? I’m kind of surprised I haven’t heard from you until now.”

“I’ve been busy. Touring is…rough.”

“I know, which is why I’ve been concerned that you haven’t called. You know you don’t have to do this alone, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you staying sober?”

“Barely,” I admit. “It’s a little harder than I thought it would be.”

“Have you ever done a tour sober before?”

“I’ve played shows sober, but not a real tour. Nothing like this. And…there is this girl.”

He laughs. “There’s always a girl. Tell me about her.”

“It isn’t like that,” I counter. “I hate her, to be honest. She is an addict. I thought maybe there was hope for her, that she could get sober like me and we could weather the storm as friends, but that’s not happening. She is a mess.”

“Sounds like you need to put some distance between the two of you.”

“That’s not easy. She kind of has control of my career.”

“How so?”

“It’s a long story, but she did me a favor and now holds my fate in the palm of her hands.”

“Is your career worth your sobriety?”

“It’s worth more.”

“Why do you think that?”