Page 82 of A Tragic Melody

“Better?”

She pauses, listening for a moment. “Just Like Heaven by The Cure.”

“Right again.” I nod.

“Do another.” She laughs. “I love this game.”

“Okay.” I nod, switching to another song.

I play all the way to the chorus while she listens. I smile as her lips press together, head tilting to the side as her nose scrunches up.

“Another song that you wrote?” she asks with a huff.

“No.” I shake my head.

“Then what song?” She glares.

“Sex as a Weapon.” Kellen laughs. “My mom was a big Pat Benatar fan.”

Tuesday’s eyes sharpen, glaring at me. “Whatever.” She pushes herself to her feet. “I’m going to have a drink, want one?” She flashes me a grin.

“No thanks.” I go back to playing sad songs.

She sits back down beside me with a bottle of vodka. Twisting off the cap, she tosses it at me. I let it bounce off my shoulder, continuing to strum my guitar.

“Why guitar?” she asks, after taking a sip.

“Why singing?” I counter.

“I’m good at it.” She shrugs.

“And I’m good at guitar.”

“Yes, but it took practice. Singing was natural for me. Yes, I had to practice hitting notes and songs, but the voice I was born with. Guitar takes dedication.”

“My grandpa,” I say softly. “He had this old electric guitar, and when I would visit him as a small kid, he would play me old jazz songs. Ever since, I was hooked. When he died, my mother made sure I got it. I was seven, and couldn’t get enough of it. They got me lessons at eight, and when I outgrew that teacher, they found me another, and so on and so on until I was too good to be taught.”

“Do you still have that guitar?”

“Yes. But I almost lost it a few times.” I shrug.

“How?”

“Pawned it for drug money.”

She nods. “My mother tried to get me to be a pop star.” She laughs. “Can you imagine that?”

I laugh. “Yes, actually.”

“Boy band boyfriends and dance routines.” She makes a gagging sound. “I’m so glad that failed.”

“You definitely fit the role of rock star better.”

“Was there ever a time you wanted to be something other than a guitarist in a rock band?”

“Not that I remember.” I shrug. “I liked jazz music cause that’s what my grandpa played, but as I did my research, rock music just made sense. More freedom, more room to experiment.”

“What would you have done if it didn’t pan out?”