Page 52 of A Tragic Melody

“I guess.”

“Thank you.” I plant a kiss on his cheek, drop my bag of drugs at his feet, and skip back down the hall. I plop down next to Wyatt. “Start the timer. I’m drug-free until tomorrow.”

“Let’s see how chipper you are in a few hours.” He grins.

I try to keep myself busy. I sit curled up on the couch, scribbling away in my notebook. I tried to write music, but I couldn’t focus, so now I’m doodling things.

Quinn and David play video games on the TV by the kitchen table. Kellen is laying in his bunk, doing who knows what. Wyatt sits on the floor with his back against the couch, strumming on his guitar. He is always strumming on that thing. It would be annoying if he wasn’t so good at it.

It’s stuffy on the bus. Stuffy and hot. The air feels heavy in my lungs. Sweat drips down my forehead, but I ignore it. My head aches, and I can feel a pulsing in my temples. I try not to show my discomfort. If Wyatt senses anything wrong, he will mock me, thinking he won, but in reality I’m just bored.

“Entertain me,” I say, tapping him on the shoulder. He looks back at me. “I’m bored. Play me a song.”

“Which song?”

“Pick one and see how long it takes me to guess.” I grin.

“Okay.” He nods, pausing for a moment, before smiling. “Should I start easy?”

“I like when my men start hard.” I smirk.

He rolls his eyes before he starts strumming something. I close my eyes, trying to place the song.

“Edge of Seventeen.”

“Correct.” He switches the placement of his fingers, playing a different tune.

“Purple Haze.”

“Yes.” He nods, playing a few more chords of that song before switching to another tune.

This continues for a few more songs, before he starts playing a song I can’t place. I rack my brain trying to figure out what he is playing. I can’t believe he found something I don’t know. Could it be a Black Cat song? I barely know any of those songs.

“I’d be impressed if you can name this one.” He chuckles after a moment. “It’s a song yet to be written.”

“You cheated.”

“I got bored of your game,” he counters. “But what do you think of it?”

“I think we should play strip poker.” I avoid his question. I’m not in the mood to sing his praises right now. “All of us.”

“No, thanks,” Quinn says.

“Yeah, not happening,” David adds.

“Wyatt?”

“I don’t gamble for anything less than a thousand.”

“You all suck,” I groan. “I’m so bored.”

“Join the club. Just do some blow, put on some music, and entertain yourself,” David calls out.

“I don’t need blow to have fun,” I argue, folding my arms over my chest. “I need people who aren’t fucking boring.”

“None of us are complaining,” Wyatt points out. “We’re finding ways to fill our time.”

“Because you are all lame.” I roll my eyes. “I need excitement, and you are all perfectly content doing nothing.”