Page 17 of My UnTrue Love
Bill stared back.
For the first time, the two of them were dealing with each other and not through Clem.
Finally, Dinah lit her cigarette with a triumphant smirk. “Maybe you’d better drag Clementine outta here, then. For the good of her health and all.” She blew out an arrogant stream ofsmoke. “Or you can get up on stage and audition. Impress me and I’ll give you a regular slot.”
Bill smiled without humor at that challenge. Dinah was trying to prove she controlled what he wanted most. Only she didn’t. Bill considered guitar playing a lark to amuse himself and keep Clem happy. It would never be a regular paycheck and a regular paycheck was all that truly mattered. He had a stolen-mate to provide for, after all.
With a casual shrug, he turned towards the door. His hand found the small of Clem’s back, taking her with him. “See ya later, Tony.”
“Fiddly-i-o.” Tony whispered, his eyes wide at Bill’s decision to defy the most influential saloon owner in town.
Clementine made a frustrated sound. “Hang on!” She tried to dig her heels into the wooden floor. “Bill, we cannotgo, yet. You need to audition. I’ll wait outside, if the smoking upsets you.”
“Alone? No.” Red River Valley was dangerous. Every minute she was out of his sight was agony for him, because he imagined all the horrible shit that might befall her while his back was turned. Clem attracted trouble like rhubarb pie attracted rocking-horseflies.
“You walk out now, who’s to say when you’ll get another shot at greatness?” Dinah shouted.
Bill sent her an unimpressed look over his shoulder. She didn’t understand how far he’d go to protect his stolen-mate. Normal folksneverunderstood how far a coyote would go. If they did, they’d be afraid. “I’ve already got my shot at greatness.”
Clementine Miner was his one and only chance at a happy future.Nothingwould fuck that up for him.
Genuine shock flashed on Dinah’s face.
Clementine didn’t seem surprised by his decision, just exasperated. “Can’t you play one song for Dinah, so she’ll hear how talented you are?”
He kept walking, right through the double-hinged saloon doors and into the daylight. “You said yourself she heard me play on Johnny’s record. She knows enough to make up her mind.”
“You have to trust me on this.” Clementine implored.
“I do trust you.” It was everyone else on the planet who were cheating, lying assholes.
His gaze instinctively surveyed the bustling street, scanning for threats. Most people looked to be out-of-work musicians, hustling for a job. And every single one of them would kill and die for a muse of their own. He watched the news. He knew Clem’s species were regularly kidnapped by desperate artsy types.
Maybe they should move to a different town.
“If you trust me, then listen to me! The Kitchen was a very good opportunity for you, Bill, and you just wrecked it. Dinah can hold a grudge forever and you pissed her off, I think.”
“Not a thing I could do, but what I did.”
“Yes, there was to!” Her voice rose so he could hear her over the Conestoga wagon rattling by. “You’re just being stubborn.”
“So was Dinah.”
Clem couldn’t dispute it. “Well, she’s always like that. I told you, she thinks I’m ditzy.”
“And now she knows you’re not.” Bill didn’t much care about the woman’s opinion, but Clem clearly did. “She’ll respect you more, the next time. Meanwhile, there’s a heap of saloons in this town. We’ll try another one.” Anyplace was fine with him.
Bill picked a direction and started walking, peering down alleyways as they passed. Too many disreputable types lurked in the tight maze of spaces between the false-fronted buildings. The vertical, square-topped facades had a distinctive Western look that had been all the rage in Red River Valley thirty years before. To Bill’s eye, they were a lot nicer looking than the sod-construction that was so in style now.
Clementine sighed, staying beside him. “I’lldefinitelydo the negotiations during your interviews. You’re just too talkative.”
His mouth twitched. “Never heard that complaint before.”
“It’s not how many words you say, but howhonestthose words are.”
“Now I’m too honestandtoo chatty?”
“It’s true! We’re trying to get you hired, so you can’t say some of the things you want to say.” She held up a palm. “I know that seems deceitful to you. Artists like to be true to their own feelings. But it’s the way this business works. It’s how you’ll get record deals, and songs on the radio, and concerts, with people cheering your name.”
