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Shallow, I know.
Her name suits her unique personality though. And by personality, I mean her clothes and the way she presents herself. She’s wearing a knee-length gray skirt, black knee-high boots, and a pale blue blouse that hangs off her slim shoulders, revealing the straps of a lacy black bra beneath. Her wrists are covered in the same silver bangles that she was wearing last night, and they clatter against the table when she folds her arms.
She’s mimicking my stiff posture.
Smart ass.
I drop my hands to my side and sit forward, pulling my chair in against the table.
You want to play games little one, bring it on.
“Okay, so let me get this straight, Miss Thomas,” says the mediator. Lifting her glasses from the chain around her neck, placing them on the end of her nose. “You have accused Mr. Devlin of plagiarism for a song that you claim you wrote approximately four years ago. Correct?”
“That’s correct,” she replies with a quick nod. Her eyes don’t leave mine the entire time, and I can’t help but wonder where she got this fucking level of confidence from.
Despite her tardiness and her slightly eccentric fashion sense, this chick’s got some strength and determination to her that sure didn’t come through in her music last night. Last night, she was all emotion and feeling, lost and found, totally caught up in the moment.
Right now, she’s none of those things.
Today, she’s all business.
“I wrote the lyrics to my song, ‘Destiny’ the day after my eighteenth birthday, the file will verify the exact date for you. So yes, just gone four years ago. It was my birthday last week…”
Twenty-two.Huh.Younger than I thought.
“‘Destiny’ is one of my favorite songs,” she continues. “So I couldn’t believe it when Cold Neptune released their version of my song last month, and –”
Goddamn.
“What the hell did you just say?” I seethe, spreading my arms out on the table.
“Reed,” says Delaney in warning, placing his hand on my back.
But I shrug him off and lean even farther forward. “Listen to me, little girl, you’re messing with the wrong crowd if you think you can –”
“Mr. Devlin,” says the mediator, sharply. “Watch your tone or I’ll ask you to leave.”
I sigh heavily, so annoyed now that my skin prickles and all the hairs on my arms stand to attention.
“Okay, whatever, but you need to remember Cold Neptune has been on the charts for almost ten years,” I explain in no uncertain terms, jaw rigid and tight. “Long before Miss Thomas here was even done popping zits on the back seat of the school bus. My entire career, my entire livelihood, revolves around me writingoriginalsongs and releasing them with the band. Do you have any idea how much damage this kind of accusation could do?”
Brinley scoffs dramatically. “That’s not my problem.”
“Not your problem?” My palms land flat against the glass, making both Nick and Delaney jump an inch clean out of their seats. “You just sat there and told me that ‘Three Two One’is a ‘version’ of a song you wrote called ‘Destiny,’” I air quote to drive my point home hard, and I’m sure all the color has drained from my face. “That’s original, by the way. I mean, it’s not like every other hack in the country hasn’t written a song called ‘Destiny’ at some point in their pathetic career.”
Brinley flinches and pulls back slightly. Hurt skates over her features, making her lips pull into a thin line. Her jaw moves fractionally, but she doesn’t look away from me.
I’ve got to give her credit.
She’s a tough cookie. But she’s a cookie I’m prepared to shatter if that’s what it takes. She needs to be punished for this. The urge I have to throw her over my lap and spank her pretty little ass is so strong right now that my fingers tingle.
My barb was below the belt, for sure, but at this point, I don’t have a whole lot more ammunition to fight this war with other than swords and arrows.
“Idid notsteal your lyrics,” I say, struggling to stay calm because I don’t think raising my voice is going to get me anywhere. But there’s no way every single person in this room didn’t just hear the unfailing conviction in my voice. I might be a lot of things, but I’m not a fucking liar. If she wants the truth, then here’s the damn truth. “That song was written about events that happened to me when I was thirteen years old. The lyrics are based on real-life events. There are only a handful of people in my life who know the truth about what that song really means. It’s personal, and if I could go back and change the past, I sure as hell would. I wish I never had to write that song, because ‘Three Two One’ is about a day in my past that I’d rather forget.”
Brinley blinks a couple of times.
Her long dark lashes fan out over her high cheekbones, but she doesn’t say anything in response. She just stares back at me, and I can’t help but think she isn’t buying my story. That’s the thing though. It’s not a story. It’s a fucking nightmare that I’ve relived over and over in my head every day since it happened.
