Page 82 of Sweeper
“After we got a bit more serious, I gave him the files so he could send them to his friend, but it was months of nothing, and then finally Rex told me they weren’t interested. I was gutted but not really surprised. Honestly, I think my music is all pretty shit. I wrote most of it when I was still a teenager, and they need some serious work. I think my Tire Depot jingle has much more long-term potential.” I laugh, hoping to lighten the mood, but Zander is not laughing with me.
“I don’t know if you’re qualified to judge your own work, are you?” he asks, pinning me with a serious expression.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs as he stretches his arm out over the back of the sofa. “We’re always our own worst critics, aren’t we? You shouldn’t get to judge your own music skills the same way I don’t get to judge my own soccer skills. We need unbiased parties.”
“Right, well, that’s beside the point,” I reply, rolling my eyes at Zander’s sweet optimism. “About a year after I’d given Rex my songs, Phoebe comes running into my dad’s office where I was working at the time squealing about one of my tracks being on Spotify. I had no idea what she was going on about. I’d never uploaded any of my tracks to any site, but sure enough, there was my song.”
“He uploaded your shit without asking?” Zander asks, his jaw taut with realization. “That’s total bullshit.”
“Not only that, but he had been collecting royalties on them for months. It wasn’t a huge sum of money, but it was my work, and he clearly had no intention of giving me that money. When I’d discovered what he’d done, I demanded he take them down. I tried to issue takedowns on Spotify, but I discovered that he didn’t just steal my work…he had filed copyrights for all of my songs. He claimed rights to my creations.”
“Holy fucking shit,” Zander replies, his nostrils flaring as his hands form fists on his lap. “What did you do?”
“I had to hire an intellectual property lawyer and take him to court. It cost a fortune, and I had no money for that. My parents paid for everything, but we had to do something. It was every song I’d ever made out there under his bloody name.”
“Fuck, what a piece of shit.” He shakes his head adamantly, and I feel my blood pressure rising as I relive it all again through Zander’s reaction.
“Thankfully, I won the case and got my rights back, but he still hasn’t paid me any of what he’s supposed to. The lawyer says I’ll have to take him to collections court. It’s a nightmare. Meanwhile, I’m killing myself with all these jobs to pay my parents back because they didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Well, neither did you, Daphney,” Zander snaps, his brows creased.
“I know, but I shouldn’t have been so stupid.” I shake my head, feeling disgusted by myself. “I was young and naïve, and I thought I was in love. Rex made me feel so good about my talent. He encouraged me to create more songs, and it felt nice to have someone take my music seriously. Could I have been any more desperate?”
“You’re weren’t desperate. You were hopeful,” Zander responds, sliding closer to me. He rests his hand on my thigh and squeezes it gently. “You’re an artist with a dream, and you were taken advantage of. That’s not your fault.”
I inhale a cleansing breath. “And the worst part is, I was in love with him. I was in love with him, and he was stealing from me the entire time. Do you know how much that messes with me still? To find out that someone you care about is just using you? It’s sick.”
Zander’s hand stills on my leg, and an unusual expression flicks across his face. He looks down at his hand on my leg as he says, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
The change in his mood is obvious, so I grab his hand and dip my head to capture his eyes with mine. “I hope you know I’m not talking about you, okay? I went into this knowing you and I are just about sex and nothing more. That’s honestly what I appreciate about our situation. There are no secrets here. What you see is what you get.”
“Right.” Zander huffs as the muscle in his jaw tics. He clears his throat and looks into my eyes with a sheepish smile. “Well, I’m just really sorry that happened to you. It makes perfect sense why you ditched out at the pub.”
I purse my lips thoughtfully. “Phoebe wants me to get over it and play my music again. I haven’t even so much as hummed any of my tracks since this mess happened. They feel tainted somehow. Ruined by all his ugliness.”
“You know that’s stupid, right?” Zander snaps, his eyes severe on mine.
“Fuck off.” I let go of his hand and frown back at him.
“I’m sorry, but it is,” he says, stretching his arm around me and eyeing me sternly. “They’re your words, your notes, your heart and soul. No one can ruin that for you just like no one can ruin soccer for me. We only ruin it for ourselves.” He pauses for a moment and gets a serious look in his eye before he adds, “When I first came here, I told you I was struggling on the pitch. I couldn’t keep up; I couldn’t find my stride. And look what happened for me tonight. I played the best game of my life, and that wasn’t because of superior coaching or extra training. It was because I finally got out of my own fucking way.” His glossy hazel eyes flick back and forth between mine when he states, “Don’t let him take more from you than he already has. Get out of your own way, Daphney.”
His words have such an instant effect on me, I can’t help but lean forward and press my lips to his. It’s a tender touch, as I hold his face, relishing in his light scruff as my tongue gently sweeps between his lips, asking for more. His hands flatten against my back as he pulls me closer and sucks on my lower lip, a deep growl vibrating in his chest.
I reach down to grab the hem of his shirt and feel the loss of him as he pulls away, breathless with eyes hooded. He struggles for a moment before finally saying, “I didn’t come here for that tonight.”
“I know,” I reply with a smile and move in to kiss him again.
“Seriously.” He pulls back, shaking his head firmly. “I came here to be a friend, Daphney. Please, let me.”
I frown back at him, confused, frustrated, and a little touched. Biting my lip, I nod slowly and back off, pulling my robe tightly around my chest. “Okay.”
Zander smiles softly as he reaches over and rubs his thumb along my jaw. His eyes dip to my lips, and I swear I see regret in his eyes as he leans in and kisses my cheek gently. He lingers for a moment before pulling back and stretching his arms. “Let’s watch a chick flick or something. You have any popcorn in this joint?”
The laughter that bubbles up my throat relaxes my entire body. “I think I can scrounge up some snacks.”
“Great,” he says, grabbing the remote off the coffee table. “You look for the snacks, and I’ll find us a movie.”
