Page 3 of My UnTrue Love
Johnny gaped at her, struck dumb by that ludicrous claim.
Bill glanced Clementine’s way, the edges of his mouth curving upward.
“You be quiet.” She jabbed a finger at him, even though he hadn’t said anything. She seemed to channel all her limited assertiveness into protecting her pet project. “I’m trying to save your job.”
“Don’t bother.”
Johnny wondered if she’d lost her mind. Clem doted on the cowboy, but what the hell was shetalkingabout? Pecos Bill wasn’t anything special. He was a bit older than Johnny and Clementine, with a shadowy background and watchful blue eyes.
Eerie, luminous coyote-blue.
The man’s species had immediately put Johnny on guard against him. He wasn’t prejudiced against non-humans. Not atall. But still… you’d have to be crazy to trust a coyote. Everybody knew it. He would simply never understand Clementine’s gushing enthusiasm for the shifter’s talents.
Bill had shown up ten months before, when they were looking for a guitar player, and Clem had instantly taken a shine to him. He’d strummed the guitar three times, before she’d hired him. Exactly three goddamn times. Johnny recalled it with perfect clarity, because it still pissed him off to remember how she’d jumped the gun and saddled the band with such a nobody.
They’d had a whole group of skilled guitar players with great resumes wanting to try out for The Yellow Roses. Professional musicians with carefully screened resumes. Bill, meanwhile, was some random drifter passing the live-long day. He’d been sitting on the railing outside of the rehearsal space they’d rented, fiddling with his guitar. He hadn’t been there to audition. No one had ever heard of him before.
But Clementine’s face had whipped around at the first chord he’d nonchalantly played. On the second, her lips had parted in amazement. On the third, she’d pointed right at him. “Him!” She’d cried. “He’s the one.”
Everyone had looked Bill’s way.
The cowboy’s head had snapped up, russet-colored hair falling over his face and his expression wary. Probably he’d thought he was being accused of a crime. Then, his gaze had fallen on Clementine’s huge smile… and he’d blinked.
“You’ll join, won’t you?” Her eyes had been alight with enthusiasm behind her big glasses.
Three beats of total silence as Bill stared at her. Then, he’d nodded, the motion jerky and slightly dazed.
Clementine had beamed at his agreement. “Wonderful!”
Bill had kept on staring.
Clementine hadn’t noticed the man’s lack of social skills. She could be so oblivious to reality, living in her ditzy muse bubble. She had glanced up at Johnny and clapped her hands together. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
He’d rolled his eyes. “Sure. Wonderful.” He’d been pissed, but he’d still slung a proprietary arm around her shoulder. It had been instinctive.
Bill’s gaze had flicked to him and narrowed slightly.
Johnny had glowered back, letting him know who was in charge.
Bill’s expression hadn’t changed, but Johnny swore he could detect a smirk somehow. The man’s attention had glided back to Clementine and that momentary impression faded. “So, what’d I just join?”
Clementine had laughed. “Our band, of course.”
“Huh.” Bill had stood up, not sounding terribly interested in his new musical career. “Alright, then.”
His voice had the rusty sound of a person not used to talking. Something about the rumbling cadence of it had made Johnny’s ears perk up, though. Like they always did when some hot new artist came on the scene and you justknewhe could sing his ass off. His dislike of the coyote intensified.
“Do you sing?” Johnny had demanded, ready to put his foot down and preemptively fire him, if the coyote thought he was getting near a microphone.
“Nope.” Bill’s eyes had remained on Clem. “But I’ll play any instrument she wants.”
After that, he was just alwaysthere. Johnny couldn’t think of a reason to get rid of Bill, so he’d been stuck with the guy. It wasn’t like Bill was a terrible addition to the band. He showed up on time. Did his part. Never showboated or complained. Didn’t try to sing. Barely even spoke.
Sometimes, though, he’d look at Johnny with an invisible smirk, just like he had that first day. Like he thought the whole band was a joke. Like he could somehow see the dorky kid Johnny had once been, with the weird name and acne. Like he was silently plotting to take away Johnny’s bright future.
Johnny was outgoing. Friendly. Charming. He got along with everybody. …But he hated that dirty coyote.
Bill was talented enough on the guitar. Johnny could rise above his dislike of the man and concede that much. He could indeed play other instruments too, without even much practice. He just had a knack for them. However, it was ludicrous for Clementine to claim he was the best musician in Red River Valley. Johnny lived there, too! Bill couldn’t compare tohistalent and everybody knew it.
