Page 89 of A Tragic Melody

Wyatt scrolls up beside me. “Yeah.” He nods.

I can’t tell if I’m doing a good job or not tonight. Normally I can tell, but I’m all messed up from all the drugs in my system. I fight to keep from looking over at Wyatt. I don’t even sneak glances. I can’t handle that right now.

“Now is my favorite part of the night,” I say into the mic, trying to speak slowly. “When I get to play something new, to me, that is. It’s been fun covering Black Cat’s songs with Wyatt on stage with me.”

“Actually,” Wyatt says, “I was wondering if we could play something different tonight.”

I look over at him. “Depends what you had in mind?”

“Do you know the song What About Love by Heart?”

“You like Heart?” I tilt my head to the side.

“It was my sister’s favorite song,” he says.

“Okay.” I nod. “For your sister…”

“Wenny,” he says. “Her name was Wenny.”

“For Wenny.” I nod, turning back to face the crowd. When the guys start playing the song, I wait for my moment to come in. He is lucky I actually know the song well enough. I loved all those female soft rock singers. Heart. Blondie. All of them.

When I first started out, I’d cover these songs all the time. Including this song, but I’ve only done it twice and that was a while ago, never on a stage like this. Only at the local shows.

But I force myself to focus, trying my best to hit all the right notes, if only because it’s for his sister. For him.

When the song finishes, I look over at him. He’s looking right at me, and when our eyes meet, my chest tightens.

“Thank you,” he says. “That was great. She would’ve loved it.”

I can only nod as a knot forms in my throat. I blink out a second tear before looking back at the crowd. “This next song is one of mine, Magic Mirror.”

When our set finishes, I head straight for the dressing room. I’m ready to be back on the bus. My whole body feels foreign, and I hate it. My heart beats too hard, my mouth is so dry. I feel sick.

“All things considered, that was great,” Quinn says coming in after me. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” I snap. “Just ready to be on the bus.” I start grabbing my stuff, throwing it in my bag.

“Okay,” he says.

“Where’s the vial?” Wyatt asks walking into the room.

“What?” I look back at him.

“The vial with the coke laced with fucking meth.” He holds out his hand. “Give it to me.”

“Not happening,” I snap.

“You are not doing that shit again,” he says.

“Duh. But I’m not giving it to you.”

“So flush it yourself, but get rid of it.”

“I just won’t do it.” I shrug, moving towards the door. He steps in front of me. “Move.”

“No,” he says. “Get rid of it.”

“I won’t do it. Lesson learned,” I snap.