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Oh, oh, destiny.
Reed
Ifinish reading the lyrics and I’m not really sure what to make of things. I inhale a deep breath, and then look down at the sheet of paper again.
The lyrics are actually pretty good, and yes, I can definitely see some similarities between Brinley’s song and the song I wrote for Cold Neptune.
There are words, a couple of phrases here and there that might bear some vague likeness–blue, smoke, blackness, and the feeling of waiting, time standing still–but in all honesty, her song is in no way as heavy or as detailed as mine.
And like I said, my song was written about an actual event that happened when this chick was–I quickly do the math in my head–for God’s sake, like freaking three years old or something.
“See,” she says, and her eyes almost look manic with the way she’s so determined to get me to see reason. “It’s right there in black and white.”
I frown fiercely and glance over at Nick, but he’s no fucking use. He shrugs his shoulders and glances back over at Delaney again.
“The first stanza bears no resemblance whatsoever,” I tell her, shaking my head, and the instant agitation on her face makes me want to smirk. She’s a fucking little firecracker this one. “Seriously, it doesn’t, and you know it.”
“Bullshit!”
“Language, Miss Thomas. The rules apply to everyone, not just Mr. Devlin.”
“Sorry,” she says quietly.
“Filthy little mouth you’ve got there, Tink.”
Her head jerks back, obviously confused. “I beg your pardon?”
The mediator clears her throat, exasperation clear in her expression as she stares down her nose at us. “I won’t warn either one of you again. Please refrain from addressing each other directly if you can’t speak decently. Mr. Devlin, do you have a copy of your lyrics to submit for Miss Thomas’s perusal?”
Deep green eyes follow my movements, and I don’t look away from her as I drag out the lyrics for ‘Three Two One.’ I slide them across the table toward her, but she shakes her head at me, looking totally offended.
“I don’t need to read your lyrics, Mr. Devlin.” She says my name with complete disdain, and I suddenly have the most overwhelming urge to shackle her to my bed and take her so hard from behind that she won’t walk straight for a fucking week.What a little brat.“I’ve memorized them. But I suppose that’s not hard to do, being that I wrote the majority of them.”
“You did not –”
The mediator holds up her hand before I can spit out the long list of obscenities I’d like to hurl her way. “Give me the lyrics,” she says. I slide them across to her, and as she reads in silence, I sneak a peek back over at Brinley again, and this time she’s not looking at me. This time she’s got her eyes down, looking at her fingers, twisting a silver ring around and around on her thumb.
“I’ll take a copy of both sets of lyrics,” says the mediator, snapping me out of my not-so-subtle-ogling. “I get the feeling we’re not going to achieve much here today. Emotions are heightened, and I think you two are as bad as each other. I suggest another mediation session at a time to be appointed, unless of course, the two parties can come to some kind of arrangement in the meantime.”
“Arrangement?” says Brinley.
I lean forward again, pinning her with my stare. She might be cute, but this girl is my adversary, and entertaining the idea of her being anything else to me would mean the final nail in the coffin for me. I don’t even know this girl. She’s not my friend, and she’s most definitely not family. If she was family, she’d know why I wrote that song and what it means to me.
But she’s not. And she doesn’t.
“She means financial arrangement,” I tell her firmly. “Come on, don’t play innocent. That’s why we’re all here, yeah? So you can make some easy cash and get your name in the damn newspaper? Or is it a gossip magazine you’re looking to break into? Because that shit’s just tacky,Miss Thomas.”
Brinley stops dead in her tracks and stares at me, eyes wide, obviously startled. Her mouth hangs open in what looks like complete and utter disgust, or maybe it’s just shock.
Crossing her arms over her chest again, her boobs push up beneath her blouse and I get an eyeful of creamy soft flesh from beneath the confines of her lacy bra. But with the way she’s looking at me with so much hatred, I’m guessing her gorgeous tits are the only soft thing about her right now.
“Are you kidding me?” she shrieks.
“Not in the slightest.”
“You honestly think I want your money?”
“Of course, that’s what –”
