Page 76 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

Music is all I’ll ever have.

I drag myself off the couch and into the kitchen just as Chase walks in without knocking. It’s typical of him. The only time he ever knocks is if I’m not expecting him.

He drops his binder onto my counter with a loud thud. The legs of the stool drag against the floor as he pulls it out and sits down. He doesn’t have to tell me he’s pissed off for me to know. With the way his jaw is set, and his lips are pulled in tight, showing the creases in the corners… it’s obvious.

Neither one of us bothers to speak. Instead, I pull out my bottle of Jack and pour us both a glass.

Chase breaks the silence the minute I slide the glass his way. “You cost not only yourself, but me, a lot of money.” I don’t say anything because I’m aware of what I cost this band. I’m aware of the massive loss Chase took. “You know,” he continues, bringing his glass to his lips for a sip. “When I saw you guys play a few years back, I knew you had a lot of potential. I saw the passion each of you had.” He shakes his head and places the glass back down on the tabletop. “It’s a shame that pussy got in the way.”

My knuckles turn white, my grip on my glass of whiskey tightening. “It wasn’t the pussy.” That’s not a lie. As much as I wanted just a taste, wanted to claim her for what she was… I’m a respectful guy.

“Mmm,” he hums, not believing a word I say. “There are hundreds of people who would kill to be where you are. If not thousands. I’m not an easy man to work with, but I also have no intention of having my career die.”

“Are you implying that I do?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Do you?”

I press my lips together, my jaw jerking to the side. “I had shit to deal with, but it’s done. I made a mistake, yes, but that only makes me fucking human. I’m no saint.”

He chuckles, adjusting the strap on his watch. “People pay attention. They talk.”

My eyes narrow. “What exactly are you saying? Are you quitting on us because of one lousy fuck up?”

He slams his palm against the counter at the same time he stands. You’d think I would’ve jumped, but I’m too used to the rage Chase explodes with.

“A lousy fuck up would be being late. A lousy fuck up would be a string snapping. A crack in the bass during shipment. You deliberately ignored me. Made me look like a goddamn fool.” He scratches his temple, picking up his binder with the opposite hand. “I’m not pushing for someone who doesn’t take this passion seriously.”

He goes to leave but I stop him when I ask, “So what? That’s it… you’re done?”

He turns his head slowly, still facing the door. “I suppose I am.”

Gripping the back of my neck with one hand, my glass of whiskey in the other, I walk around the table. “What about Tale’s Gate? We prepared new songs. It could redeem us. Maybe get us back on track.”

Chase’s nostrils flare as he inhales and exhales. “I wish you the best of luck, Alec.” He stuffs his binder between his arms and leaves without another word.

My teeth grind against each other, the harsh friction sending waves of pain striking into my jaw. The surge of anger that courses through my veins ignites like a raging fire. I clench my hand tighter around the glass, feeling the muscles in my arms pulsing. Suddenly, before I can stop myself, my arm swings up, hurling the glass into the door. The impact echoes through the room. Shards of glass splinter throughout the kitchen. The dark whisky from the glass splashes onto the floor, forming a small pool, and specks of it decorate the nearby wall.

“Fuck!” I shout, gripping my hair tight.

My eyes fixated on the remnants of the sightless rage. Yet, I don’t have a care in the world.

I snap out of my dissociation, and my eyes dart to the microwave clock. It’s only been fifteen minutes.

Everything is going to shit, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. There isn’t a thing I want to do. And I’m sure that is screwed up as well, but I really don’t fucking care.

I once thought that, if someone believed me, Callie would be back in my arms. That I would get to see her, visit her, and take her out for ice cream whenever I damn well pleased. But the truth is, that’s never going to happen. It doesn’t matter how hard I work on myself and my dreams. Jules has made it clear a thousand times that I’m a dirtbag and I’m nothing but a bad influence on Callie.

I lived in a fantasy for years. Wishing and hoping. Praying and dreaming that things will turn out exactly how they should be. I’m a fool for thinking that things would change.

Nothing is going to change.

Not a single thing.

And now… I lost the girl.

Chase quit.

And soon, everything I worked so fucking hard for will flop, and I’ll be drowning as a nobody all over again.

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