Page 83 of My UnTrue Love
“What message?”
“Youdon’thave a set here. Word got around that you’ve been badmouthing The Kitchen and Dinah says she’s through with you.” Tony didn’t seem very sorry to impart the bad news. “Plus, you fired Clem. That was a dumbass thing to do, considering Dinah loves her.”
“I didn’t fire Clem. We’re just restructuring our partnership.” Outrage filled Johnny. That old bitch couldn’t push him off stage. He was a star! “Who told Dinah I was badmouthing The Kitchen? Was it Pecos Bill? The coyote has it out for me, Tony. Everybody knows it.”
“If he does, you’re losing the contest, my man.” Tony sounded delighted with Johnny’s struggles. “Bill played theLone Prairie tonight and brought down the house. First, with his performance and then when he wrecking-balled some douchebag who touched Clem. Dinah laughed when she heard about it.” Tony leaned across the bar and lowered his voice. “I’veneverheard Dinah laugh before.”
“Clem said Dinah wouldn’t even put Bill on stage here.”
“Yeah, because he won’t kiss her ass. Everybody else does, but Bill just walked out, when she pulled her typical bullshit. Dinah threw a fit. Between you and me, though, she seemed damn impressed with the guy.”
Johnny rubbed his forehead. The meanest lady in town was warming up to Pecos Bill? He couldn’t handle this shit. He just couldn’t. “That coyote is trying to steal my happily ever after, does no one get that?”
Tony arched a brow. “What exactly did he steal from you?”
“Clem, for starters!”
“You threw her away, Johnny. That’s just about the stupidest thing I ever heard of. You know how many artists in this town would kill for a muse?”
“I don’t need a muse. I’m a creative genius.”
Tony scoffed. “You’re a damn idiot.Nothingcan do what muses can. Their powers turbo-charge talent. People try to fake that kind of boost with Hasten-2. You had everything an artist could want --free, safe, and smiling at you-- but you screwed it up.”
Johnny’s eyebrows tugged together. “Hasten-2 gives inspiration.” He recalled. “Same as a muse.”
“Nothinglike a muse. That elixir is illegal for a reason. It’ll burn out your creativity forever. I seen it happen to a buddy of mine. All your ideas get worse, and darker, and then, pretty soon, they’re gone forever. Watch out for that shit. It’ll torch your whole life.”
Tony was so dramatic.
Johnny’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he fished it out. Susannah Alabama had texted him some long, panicked diatribe. Why had he ever let that woman into his pants? She was a constant trial.
Allfemales were a trial. Susannah was a bland, whiny dishrag. She just provided a convenient mouth to suck him off and some background music on a record. Clementine was blinded by that scheming coyote. A sweet little rosebud, too naive to navigate a man’s world. Rosalee was a harpy, filled with complaints and demands and inaction. She was a slut, too. She’d fucked him the first time he ever pressured her the littlest bit.
He was too Good for all of them.
Johnny skimmed Susannah’s message without much interest. Didn’t he already fire her? About halfway through the block of run-on text, the name “Vulture Valente” jumped out.
The sick feeling in Johnny’s gut got worse.
Tony let out a low whistle, reading the phone over Johnny’s arm. “Gossip site’s got copies of some sexting messages between you and your bandmate, huh?That’sgonna be a scandal. Especially, that part right there.” He pointed to the screen. “Did you really make her call you ‘maestro’ in the sack?”
Johnny yanked the phone back. “It’s all lies! Vulture can’t prove anything!”
“Gossip sites don’t gottaproveanything. They just have to report it.” Tony smirked and went to go refill beer glasses.
That was all he was good for, anyhow. That beaver couldn’t drum his way out of an ungated corral. Everybody knew it. He wasn’t arealartist. Just some loser who played farmer’s markets and worked part-time at a friggin’ wedding chapel, because he couldn’t…
“Johnny!”
His head swiveled around, just in time to get slapped in the face. “Shit!” He bellowed, gripping his throbbing cheek.
Rosalee stood in front of him, breathing hard. She was wearing one of her elegant poncho-dresses, but her eyes were anything but cool and refined. “You bastard!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He demanded, aware that everyone in The Kitchen was now staring in their direction.
Rosalee held up her phone, like it was some kind of evidence. “I’ve got Vulture Valente emailing me details of your affair with Susannah Alabama and asking for an official comment!”
“Well, give him one, then! Only make it better than how you cleaned up that Ti-Yi-Yo mess.” Johnny glowered at her, in no mood for some female tantrum. “That ‘support women in music’ thing Bill started is gettingbigger. And why can’t you make people stop using my real name?”
