Page 30 of Paint the Town, Dove
The dark blue walls were covered in spatters of rouge artwork, cutouts from magazines, posters, album sleeves. Beneath my shoes were mosaic tiles, mimicking the pattern of Clase Azul bottles. It was something out of a movie, but then again, my entire life felt like a reverie.
Movement, glares, multicolour lightshows.
People, so many people.
Bodies kissing, arms flaying, smiles dancing.
Alcohol, drugs –
The spell of forgetting, being served like wine.
“Don’t mind if I do,” I grinned in thanks to the bottle boy before bumping into a small frame.
A frame I knew all too fucking well.
“Yas,” I breathed, but she cut me off with a kiss on the goddamn mouth.
I didn’t even flinch.
Yasmine Ryvetts was used to doing whatever the hell she wanted. Including stealing one of my best songs and undertaking my career at its initial peak.
“You wound me,” she pouted, leaning back on her tall glitter heels, sequin dress flaring out like a cheap disco ball.
Everything about her was cheap.
From her credibility to her loyalty, the only thing that made her shine were the sparkly eyeshadow and diamond ring Avenue Records (or should I say Pierce) gifted her forSTEALING MY FUCKING SONG.
“You dated me,” she pointed out, as if she could read my thoughts – myregrets.
“And?”
“And,” her finger circled my wrist, “You miss me.”
Fucking ridiculous, delusional, snake.“Leaving now.”
I stepped around her but she blocked my path. “You can’t still be mad.”
I faced her properly, setting my drink down on a stone podium. “You stole my song, a song I shared with you about my past, and you sold itas your own to boot me out of my own label.”
She stared at me with dull eyes, blonde bangs shielding whatever guilt shedidn’tfeel.
I took another firm step forward. “You didn’t even tell me, Yas. I found out through the radio, the fuckingradiowhat you were doing on yourgirls’ nightsor whatever bullshit lie you told me. Pilates –” I felt the anger bubbling – “Fuckingpilates! That’s where you said you were going every morning for months.”
“It’s not like I cheated on you,” she yawned, using the back of her hand to cover her mouth.
“You were fucking Pierce!” I leaned down to her height, “fuck, are you right in the head?”
“We were so over by then!”
I turned to walk away, for the final time, hearing her voice echo behind me. “Always so emotional, little Ryden Spectre.”
Something cracked inside of me.
A stable bridge between my head and my heart now collapsing, slowly, the foundation crumbling, pebble by pebble –
Down, down, down.
The kid needs to grow a pair of balls, Clara. No man to this one.
