Page 60 of A Tragic Melody

All I can do is try to enjoy the fall.

When I’m back inside, I go back to flirting with the guys in Black Cat. If I can stir the pot and cause more trouble for them, I’m going to. The idiots lost the only good part of the band. I hate the idea of them playing Wyatt’s music without him.

If I can stop that, I’m going to. My goal is to get them off Veritas. Then they can never play those songs again. Even if they wanted to, I’d make sure Hendricks is motivated to end them.

Wyatt isn’t going to make music for anyone but me from here on out. I’m not sure what that will cost me, but until we burst into flames, his talent will belong to me.

I highly doubt he will enjoy that, but he has little say unless he wants to throw gasoline on the fire and end things sooner. Something tells me he doesn’t want that. He loves the stage as much as me, and that’s beneficial for the both of us. I can dangle it over his head, use it like a threat to get him to do as I say.

When Black Cat takes the stage, I move to watch their set. Wyatt stands off to the side, his arms folded over his chest as he glares towards his old band.

He tenses when their set starts, and never once relaxes until they walk off the stage. Even then, his face remains angry. It must sting to watch them perform what he wrote. It bothers me, too.

“Don’t worry,” I say, walking up to him. “When I’m done with them, all that will remain is an album with you on it. No one will remember them, other than how you relate to them.”

“And then when you’re done with me, no one will remember me.”

“I don’t know if I have that much power.”

“No, but Hendricks does.”

“Doubtful.” I shrug, taking a sip from the bottle in my hand. “You are too good to be forgotten.”

“You’re scarier when you’re being nice.”

I laugh. “My hands are tied for the rest of the tour, so why waste energy being mean?” I shrug.

“I thought you might get off on it.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t get off on being mean. I rarely ever get off.”

“So I heard, though I found it pretty easy.”

My face flushes for some reason. It’s not like I’m not used to talking about my sex life. People comment on it often. I tend to ignore it or play it off, but for some reason, his comment makes me blush uncontrollably.

“What can I say? You’re good with your fingers.” I roll my eyes, trying to play it off.

“You should see what I can do with my mouth.”

“Think you are better than me?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Perhaps we should have a little friendly competition sometime.”

“Yeah. Schedule me in the next time you’re sober.”

“Ha.” I roll my eyes. “Ass.”

He laughs before walking away.

“Geez,” Derrick says from the side. “I knew you were a slut, but you literally do fuck everyone you tour with, huh?”

I wonder how much he heard. It wouldn’t do Wyatt or me any favors if he heard the whole thing, but more than likely he just walked up.

“Not everyone.” I shrug. “Just whoever the hell I feel like.”

“What a slut,” he mutters.