Page 60 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

“So you worked at a bowling alley, then were in military school . . .” She counts on her fingers. “Exactly what did you end up doing for work?”

This time I miss, a single pin still standing at the end of the lane. “I’m a musician.”

Her eyebrows rise for a moment before dawning sets in. “Wait, but you said?—”

“You really didn’t believe me, huh?” I tease.

She shakes her head. “Wait, so you’re actually in a band?”

I smile. “Yeah. And a pretty damn successful one at that.”

Her mouth drops but I hold up my finger. “Uh-uh, my turn.” Her lips press together, but there’s tension in her step now. “Does your name have less than ten letters?”

“Yes.” She’s standing in front of me now. “So you’re—you’re really a rockstar?”

I frown. “Don’t tell me you’re disappointed.”

“I’m not!” she insists. “I’m just—wow, that’s . . . amazing. You know, I knew a musician once.”

“Really?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, we, uh . . . we grew up together. On and off.”

“What happened to her? Or him?” But she doesn’t answer. Instead, she looks away, the color leeching from her cheeks. “Hey, you okay?”

With a deep breath, she picks up her ball and shoots it right into the gutter. “My name starts with the letterD.”

I blink in surprise. “Oh.” Okay, I think I hit a nerve there. Does she have a problem with all musicians, or just one? Was it a guy? An ex? A friend? She’s trying to distract me, and that’s okay. I don’t want to make her upset. “Starts with aDand ends with aY, is unusual, can be for a boy or a girl and has less than ten letters. Okay, I’m feeling good about my odds.”

I bowl another strike, getting back in my groove, while she taps her finger to her chin.

“What instrument do you play?” she asks.

Pretending to play air guitar for a minute, I wink at her and say, “Bass.”

A smile tugs on her lips. “A bass player, huh? You must have good rhythm.”

“The best,” I say, puffing out my chest. “Your name . . . did your parents pick it for a specific reason?”

She sits on the bench, her fingers wrapping over the edge and looks at her shoes. “Yeah. Or rather my mom did. It has a bit of a biblical meaning.”

This surprises me. “NowthatI wouldn’t have guessed.”

She shrugs. “I was raised fairly religious, but for all the wrong reasons. Mama wanted to be just like the church families who had nice things and loved each other. My dad, he just wanted a way to control us.”

My heart aches. I think about Key and Becks and how much religion has played a part in the difficult parts of their lives. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m not religious. Never was . . . but going to church felt normal when a lot of my childhood wasn’t.” She frowns and swings her feet back and forth. “Sorry, I’m kind of—let’s change the subject. I’m being a huge bummer.”

“Sure.” I bite my lip. “But just for the record, you’re not bumming me out. Getting to know you is the fun part, remember?”

She clears her throat. “So, your band. They’re popular?”

I nod. “Yeah, we’re even on the radio. You heard of Carnal Sins?”

Her eyes widen and she drops the bowling ball on the floor with a loudcrack. “Holy shit, really?”

I smile. “You’ve heard us?”

---