Page 74 of Mine

“The death date is coming up.” It’d be my excuse to anyone close to me for the next week. “Just not a good time to be accused of bad behavior by someone who’s known me for so long.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I just heard that rumor and was so shocked, but I’ll get those fires put out. And fuck that bass player for starting such gossip. That fucker is on my list now.”

“Thanks,” I said. “So that’s where it came from? And not Dale?”

“Who the fuck is Dale?” Tommy snorted.

“Nobody.” I was made of plastic. “Do you mind shutting the door on your way out? I just have a headache today.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

The moment the door closed, I pushed my chair back, and sat on the floor, leaning against my desk as I forced myself to breathe.

My eyes closed as I counted to ten, fighting through the hurricane of emotions.

Deep breath, deep breath…

My whole body trembled. In the darkness of my mind, I remembered hiding like this years ago. Hiding in my closet while my parents fought. They never screamed. They never hit. It was always done in hushed whispers and passive aggressive actions. In the closet, I could feel things like sadness and fear. Outside of the closet, I had to be perfect again.

I thought for so long that part of me was dead. But maybe I’d been wrong. Everyone still saw me as Perfect Pepper. Everyone still saw me as this intimidating figure, without sexual needs or desires. I couldn’t have a personality outside of the company I’d built.

God forbid I ever wanted someone like Salt.

Last night came roaring back. Leaving the club, calling an Uber while squeezing my thighs together and worrying that peopleknewwhere I’d been and what we’d been doing. I knew people saw us. I knew they’d talk. I’d still made the choice to go out and see him play.

And I didn’t regret it.

I didn’t regret touching myself to his music.

I didn’t regret climaxing to the sound of him. To the feeling of him.

I didn’t regret having sex with him again.

What I regretted was walking away. I regretted waking up in a massive bed, in silken sheets that were the only thing wrapped around my body. I regretted not taking more time to be with him.

Why did it have to be like this? I wiped my eyes gently and then opened them, readjusting the light of my office. I wished that I could stay here, hidden forever.

I’d done the right thing by cutting things off with Salt.

Why didn’t it feel that way?

NINETEEN

SALT

The Rosethorn Recordsoffices were in an intimidating high-rise that made my skin crawl. I got home at two a.m. this morning, slept for three hours, then woke up restless and unsure about the decision to even come to this meeting.

The last few nights, I’d either been at a club or on stage. Both on one of the nights, but don’t remember which. I was exhausted. I was trying to chase away the void closing in on me.

The lobby was pristine. Shiny, waxed floors with tall mirrored ceilings that reflected everything and everyone. Sweat clung to me, my heart thumping wildly as I approached the front desk.

I was nervous.

I shouldn’t have been. I didn’t need this to happen. I didn’t need it the way I knew every other songwriter and singer in Nashville needed it. Tara’s plea to put in a good word for her came to mind, and my mouth went dry.

The lady sitting at the desk looked up expectantly.

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