Page 31 of Dirty Love

dirty secrets

—sixteen—

Tabitha

I spend the next three days in the studio. They pass in a blur.

Wilson has altered me on a primal level. I haven’t even wanted to drink, and that’s not a good thing. It’s also definitely a temporary thing—I’m not giving his dick or his dirty mouth any credit for reforming my bad girl ways.

I like my bad girl ways.

Fuck him.

Fuck him for changing me, for leaving me, for listening to me.

Grant has decided to pretend nothing happened, but only on the most superficial level. He’s pissed at me, and it comes across in how he snipes about the songs, my voice, the tracks we’re laying down.

He doesn’t like any of it, because he doesn’t like me.

As I often do when he’s mad at me and I hate everything about my life, I fantasize about leaving.

A tell-all interview. Discovered on the streets of Seattle. A seduction—into the music world, into Grant’s bed.

A pregnancy.

Panic.

Drugs.

And that’s where any possible path to freedom freezes. I can’t. I just—

“Tabitha, that sounded great. Let’s do it one more time, from the top.” From the other side of the glass, the producer gives me a thumbs up that means the complete opposite. That take was terrible, we still don’t have it.

The words stick in my throat, and when I miss my cue, he pauses the music. “You want a minute?”

I close my eyes. No, I’m not fucking weak. With a rough, hard shake of my head, I gesture for him to start again.

Some of my songs I write myself. This one is co-written and a bit over produced. I don’t love the first few lines, they’re kind of cliched. It’s supposed to be…an accessible kind of edgy, they say. Edgy shouldn’t be accessible, but I lost that battle. So far today I’ve been trying to hit them with a pop enthusiasm I’m just not feeling.

This time, I ignore what we’ve talked about and I ease into the song, my voice soft on the first two lines. Tentative. Like I don’t know if this is a good idea.

It’s not, really.

And suddenly I’m fifteen again. Being offered something to help me chill out, then something to amp me up.

Take a chance on a wicked line

Slick smile, knowing eyes

You’d talk me into heaven

Easy trick, tricky trespass

Tumble

Stumble

Get back up

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