Page 97 of A Tragic Melody

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me, you stupid little slut. Did you fuck him? Did your little snatch convince him to take the fall for you?”

“I didn’t fuck him. I swear.” I’m beginning to panic. If he thinks Wyatt and I slept together, he is bound to let him rot behind bars. “You told me to behave, and I have been. I promise, sir.”

“It doesn’t matter. The kid is done,” he says. “Going to rot in fucking jail because he decided to cover for you. What a fucking idiot. It’s a fucking waste, to be honest. He could’ve made me so much fucking money, but instead he threw it all away for you.”

“You aren’t going to help him?”

“No. Why the fuck would I do that?” he snaps. “Why would you want me to? You’re the one who sold the story of his addiction to the world. Made it far too easy for the world to buy this story.”

“I thought he was worth a lot of money?”

“He won’t be when all this is over. No one will want to work with him now.”

“I want him out,” I say firmly. “I won’t play without him.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” he yells. “You will do what I fucking say.”

“You can’t make me.”

“I can’t make you?” His voice grows low and harsh. “I can make you do anything I want. I fucking own you, Tuesday. You’d be nothing without me.”

“Either you get him out of this, or you lose us both.”

“Damn it.” I hear his fist hit something over the phone. “Tuesday, you will do as I fucking say or I’ll strangle the life out of you. Got it?”

“Then I guess I’ll die,” I snap, hanging up the phone.

I’m not letting Wyatt suffer for my sins, without at least trying to save him.

I don’t have very much money. Hendricks keeps my accounts low after claiming control of my money. Said it was for my best interest so I didn’t spend it all on stupid crap. So most of my money is in some account he holds and doesn’t let me access.

What little money he allows me to have goes to drugs and clothing, so I’m not surprised to find only two thousand in my account when I check.

I know getting a lawyer is going to cost me most of it, but I don’t care. I make Quinn help me find a lawyer that will take the case. He makes the calls for me, and then we take a car to meet the guy and hand over a thousand-dollar retainer fee.

When we get back to the bus, the drugs are leaving my system and I’m overwhelmed with anxiety. I don’t know how long it is going to take to get Wyatt out of jail, or if we even can at this point.

We have the bus parked in a lot in the same shitty town in Texas we got pulled over in. The next venue is four hours away, but I demand we stay put, just in case we can get him out today.

Plus, I know Hendricks is going to show up soon. If not here, then at the next venue. I’m terrified what will happen then. He may really kill me, and I don’t want to die without knowing Wyatt is going to be okay.

It’s late in the evening when my phone rings. I answer it to hear a recording, asking if I want to accept the charges.

“Yes,” I repeat three times before being connected. “Wyatt?” I ask after a moment.

“Hey,” he says. “You got me a lawyer?”

“Yeah. How is he? Do you think he can get you out?”

“I don’t know, but you shouldn’t have done that, Tues.”

“You shouldn’t have⁠—”

“Don’t,” he cuts me off. “They are recording this. You shouldn’t get caught up in this. It isn’t going to look good for you.”

“I’m not just going to let you rot in jail.”