Page 36 of A Tragic Melody

“Wait, what?” He sounds mad, which for once is a good thing. “Why did they kick Wyatt out? Where is he right now?”

“I don’t know. But he is probably headed home. Who knows. All I know is the whole tour is ruined.”

“Jesus. These fucking kids,” he mutters. “You wanted him, right?”

“I did before,” I snap. “Now I don’t care what happens to him.”

“Well you better start to care a little.”

“Why?” I whine some more.

“He’s going to be your new guitarist,” he snaps back.

“But—”

“No fucking buts, sweetheart. He is too talented to waste, and I’m not letting that other guy fuck up your set. I have too much riding on you both. So you will put up with him for this tour and not say a fucking word. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” I try to hide my joy with a sad tone.

“Good.” He hangs up.

I smile to myself. I did it. I got what I wanted. It was almost too easy. That man may take advantage of me all the time, but it’s nice to know I can use him when I need to.

I could’ve let Wyatt go home. That would’ve been a win for me, but I want him to truly suffer. If he had just packed up and went home, Veritas would’ve found him a new band in a few weeks. They clearly put a lot of money on him. Now he gets to play for me, and I can craft a way to make his life really fall apart.

Plus, now he’ll owe me since I have him under my thumb. I wonder what it will feel like to have control over someone else for a change. For once, someone will owe me. Now I get to use someone.

Within an hour, Wyatt is settling into a bunk on my bus. Hendricks apparently yelled at Black Cat for even thinking they could kick him out, though their contract states they could remove any member for any reason. Looks like I wasn’t the only one out to ruin Wyatt.

Hendricks could’ve put Wyatt back into Black Cat, but I think even he knows that band isn’t worthy of Wyatt’s talent. So instead, he placed him with me. It’s only temporary. Just for this tour, he says. I played along like I was so bothered by it, but honestly, I’m excited. It’s easier to play with your kill when he is on your tour bus.

He takes an empty bunk that is as far from me as possible. He thinks that small distance will keep him safe from me, but he is in for a treat. Once we are stuck on a bus together, he will see just how much trouble he is in.

I sit on the bench toward the front of the bus, a pile of coke sitting on a tray beside me. I use a blade to form a few lines.

“Jesus, Tuesday,” Quinn scolds me. “Can’t you hide that stuff? He is a recovering addict, for crying out loud.”

“Recovering.” I smile. “Meaning he doesn’t do drugs anymore, so what does it matter? And more so, why is that my problem?”

“I’m just saying.” He sighs. “Might be nice to keep that stuff to your bunk, out of respect.”

“I didn’t ask for him to be here,” I lie. He doesn’t need to know I’m the one who made this all happen. “Lenny fucked up.” I shrug. “And now I’m stuck with him. But this is my bus, so I’ll do whatever I fucking want.”

I bend forward, doing a line.

“Fine,” Quinn huffs.

I smile at him as I do a second line.

Wyatt comes walking up, as I tilt my head back, wiping at my nose. Quinn offers him a smile while I glare.

“Do you have the sheet music?” Wyatt asks him.

“You mean you don’t know all my music just by hearing it? I thought you were some musical genius.” I laugh.

“I’d like to make sure I’m correct. It would be rude of me to go out there and make you look bad.”

“Lenny will play tonight, so you’ll have the ride to the next venue to get caught up. Take the night off,” Quinn offers.