Page 32 of Dirty Love

Turn and smile

That was nothing

And you never miss a beat

Take a chance on a wicked line

Slick smile, knowing eyes

You’ll be my dirty secret

Undoing, done just right

My voice grows stronger as I sing, turns seductive. By the time I’m telling my corrupter that he’ll be my dirty secret, I know what’s going on. And I like it.

Fuck. I don’t want any twelve-year-olds singing along to this. My voice cracks on the next refrain, and the producer waves me off.

Instead of starting again, he gets up and waves me into the other room.

I don’t need a pep talk.

I need a do-over on the entire year when I was fifteen.

When I push through the insulated door, I don’t stop. “I’ll be back in a few. Just—give me a few.” And I keep going.

I’m shaking from head to toe by the time I get to the room across the hall where my stuff is stashed. I close the door behind me and slump against it. Every muscle in my body aches and my head throbs. I can't keep doing this, but I have to.

On the other side of the room, from inside my purse, my phone rings.

Rings.

I never leave the ringer on, it's always on vibrate.

I scowl. Did someone fuck with my stuff while I was in the studio?

It rings again.

I scramble across the room and pull it out. The screen is blinking, which is weird, and if this were any other time in my life, I’d have turned it off and walked away. Thrown it out.

But three days ago, my life was turned upside down by the kind of man who could probably reach inside my phone and make it ring.

I tap the answer button and hold it up to my ear.

I don’t say anything.

He does, though. “What’s wrong?”

“Who is this?” My heart pounds against my ribs. I know exactly who it is. I grip the phone tighter against my ear. “How did—”

“Tell me what’s wrong, Tabitha.” Wilson’s voice is hard, strained.

I turn in a slow circle. “Where are you?”

“At the hotel.”

“I told you leave me alone.”

“And I did.”

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