Page 59 of A Tragic Melody

“Hendricks?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “You’re the only person who has connected the dots so far. How did you do it?”

“I saw how he looked at you when he walked in. Then when he had his little chat with me, it only became clearer. He talks about you like you belong to him, in far darker ways than just musically.”

“Ah. You are a smart one.” A soft laugh leaves her mouth. “Do you have any idea what he would do if he knew that you knew?”

“Kill me?”

“Kill us both.” She smiles. “You could end me just as easily as I could end you, Wyatt. So, while I have a lot of control over you, I’m aware that you also have my fate in your hands.”

“I don’t.” I sigh. “I only have the power to bring you down with me. If you don’t fire first, we both get to live.”

“Wyatt, haven’t you realized? I start fires simply by existing. It’s only a matter of time before I blow it all up. We’re both fucked.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“It does.” She sighs, wiping at the corner of her eye. “There is no use denying it. Just accept you’re on borrowed time, and I’m right there with you. Buckle up and enjoy the ride.”

“I can’t accept that. If I accept that, then they died for nothing, and I can’t live with that.”

“You want to know a secret?” She looks back at me. “Well, of course you do.” She giggles. “I’m jealous of your dead family, because you had one. I would do anything to have a family, even a dead one.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t have one.”

“And I’m glad you weren’t in the car with them.”

“That might have been the nicest thing you ever said to me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” She grins. “I’ll see you on the stage.”

“Yeah.”

I watch her walk away, feeling a sinking feeling that Andrew might have been right. There is a thin line between love and hate, and Tuesday and I are dangerously close to it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I’m not thrilled that Wyatt was right. Having to acknowledge I’m an addict was a new low for me. I thought I could quit at any moment, but apparently not. I really am an addict. Wyatt is right about that, but unlike him, I’m just going to accept it and move on.

There is no point in me getting sober. What does sobriety get me? Misery. That’s it.

Why should I be forced to live with my demons when I can drown them in drugs and alcohol? My life is not in my own hands, so I see no point in trying to be better.

Still, when I overheard Wyatt on the phone talking about how hard it is for him to stay sober, especially around me, I felt guilty.

Sure, I want to destroy the guy, but at the same time, he does make me sound even better than I normally do. His guitar work and my voice go together so well, it’s almost scary. I even let him make changes to the sound during sound check, which I never let my backing band do.

I’d probably let him change the set if he wanted. I trust him, at least musically. It’s annoying how much of a genius he is when it comes to music. No one should be as gifted as he is, but yet so damn annoying.

Part of me considers keeping the drug use to my bunk, just so he doesn’t relapse. Losing him now would be bad for me in more than one way. I’d lose out on playing with him on stage, and Hendricks would not be happy with it. He thinks highly of Wyatt, and I get it. I wouldn’t want to lose that kind of talent, either.

I wasn’t lying when I admitted that Wyatt could do as much damage to me as I can to him. That fact still won’t stop me in the end. I’m a cannon waiting to go off. I destroy everything good around me. That’s why I have no friends, no family. I’ve never even had a real boyfriend, just guys who I fucked.

My mother used to tell me I was worthless, beside my voice. She is wrong about a lot of things, but I think she may have been right about that one. It’s hard to be worth anything, though, when she sold me out like a prized pig.

The deck may have been stacked against me, but I’m the one who ultimately allowed the game to go on. I could’ve spoken up about her abuse. Could’ve told Hendricks no, and left without a deal.

Instead, I do what I’m doing now. Accepting my role in life with a smile on my face, drugs in my system, and defeat in my soul. Wyatt is right—I’m pathetic, but it’s too late to undo all the damage.