Page 6 of My UnTrue Love
She was a muse. She loved to inspire and create. Her magic was delicate. It didn’t make art, but it helped the ideas flow and coalesce. It added that little extraka-pow! She lovedto be part of the creative process. Loved to generate ideas and watch them grow. It was how she found fulfillment.
A muse’s magic didn’t work with everyone, though. It had to be a good fit. You couldn’t force someone to be your partner. There was no magic strong enough for that. Johnny didn’t want her help anymore. He wanted to go alone. And shehadto keep making music. Which meant she needed to move on without him.
It all made sense to her so quickly that she realized Bill was right. Shewasn’tterribly surprised this had happened. Clementine hadn’t wanted to admit how bad things were getting, but it was hard not to notice Johnny and Rosalee pushing her aside. Deep down, she’d sensed that she no longer had a place in The Yellow Roses.
The loneliness had threatened to consume her, at first. Clementine was a very social person. She liked being around people and working collaboratively. Since the album dropped, there had been no music between her and Johnny, though. No inspiration. He had been her closest friend for years and the only artist she’d ever worked with, so their dwindling connection had been a shock.
Johnny barely seemed to notice the separation, though. Slowly, Clementine had gotten used to it, too. She was hurt and a little scared, but her magic was free of him.Shewas free of him.
“I’ve already left him behind.” Clementine whispered. “Now, I just have to find my footing.”
Bill’s eyes gleamed. “Take your time.”
Clementine looked out at the street, as a tumbleweed rolled by. She could see the silhouettes of cacti and mountains inthe distance. Red River Valley was a music town. In the Saloon District, flashy venues and neon signs lit up the night. This part of the city was filled with recording studios. It wasn’t nearly so well-lit or populated. It was right on the edge of the vast desert, so the stars seemed endless overhead, like glittering spotlights.
Clementine had fought so hard to find a place in Red River Valley, building The Yellow Roses and nurturing Johnny’s talent. She wasn’t about to give up her dreams and leave this town.
“I belong here.” She whispered.
“You do. Right here, next to me.”
“Yes, webothbelong here.” She agreed staunchly, happy to seize on something concrete that she could fix. She liked to fix things. It was part of being a muse. “What were you thinking, quitting like that? My God, Bill, you just tanked your whole career.”
“Nothin’ else to do but quit. The band’s over.”
He’d said the same thing inside. He’d leaned closer to her ear and murmured, “It’s over with him, darlin’. You did all you could. Come on with me, now.”
The coaxing invitation and the unexpected endearment had startled her out of her careening anger. He’d helped her. She had to help him, in return. Clementine looked into his pale blue eyes and pushed aside her own crushing sadness.
Bill was in trouble.
He’d quit The Yellow Roses out of loyalty to her. That touched Clem more than anything else ever had. But it wasn’t like he was rich or loaded down with job offers. How was he going to pay his rent?
“Youreallyshould have thought this through.” She chided again, wanting to focus on something productive.
“Oh, I’ve thought about it plenty. Believe me.”
Clementine sighed. Bill was such a wonderful friend andsotalented. There was only one way to help him. “We need to find you another band to join.”
“Nope.”
That startled her. “Youmustplay. It would be an absolute crime to stifle your gifts.”
“I’ll play, just not in a band. Had enough of those.”
Her eyes searched his face, reading all the words he didn’t say. “You didn’t like working with Johnny much, did you?”
“Nope.”
“Why did you stay in The Yellow Roses this long, then?”
“The benefits attracted me.”
That was fair. The band provided health insurance. Clementine wasn’t sure how she’d afford her medication, now. God, what was she going to do?
“Johnny didn’t used to be like,” she gestured helplessly towards the studio, “this.”
Bill grunted.
