Page 128 of Saved By My Buyers

Holy shit, this is one of the larger practice rooms, and it’s set up like an auditorium. I’ve never had to perform like this before, and I hide my shaking hands in the fabric of my wide-legged trousers as I walk across the stage.

Sullivan is standing there, trying to look relaxed, but I can see the worry knitted between his brows.

My stomach is in knots, I can taste the bile burning at the back of my throat, yet I refuse to puke. There’s nothing in my stomach, so that’s probably for the best.

God, there’s so many people in this room.

“Dee,” Sullivan hisses, walking up to me. Everyone else is chatting amongst themselves, which means they haven’t realized I’m on stage yet. “There are students finishing up classes, and Arina told them you’re performing. They’re going to be filing in?—”

The loud bang of the door opening makes me roll my eyes.

“Well that’s fucking awesome,” I grumble under my breath. “I hope her popcorn is always stale and she gets chlamydia.”

Sullivan barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “Damn, I think you’re one of my favorite people,” he says.

“You’re not one of mine today,” I mutter. “How is this going to work? I have the song memorized, but my notebook is in my bag. It’s not perfect, either. That’s what I was working on with the coach.”

“Deep breaths, neither one of us is allowed to start spiraling,” Sullivan says. “Your voice is warmed up from your lesson, so that’s one thing you don’t have to stress about. What is the song that you’re working on? We’ll just turn this into a jam session. You and me, fuck the audience.”

“Sullivan,” I groan, frustrated. “I can’t sing The Forgotten in front of these people. It’s too raw. I’ll give them nightmares.”

“Then maybe that’s what they fucking deserve,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll tell them that this is impromptu, and I’ve been wanting to work with you anyway on your songwriting. So how raw are we talking?”

“Ahh, it's the things that bump in the night and sleeping on the streets kind of raw,” I say with a wince. “These rich people are going to try to get me kicked out of the school.”

“The board already said that no matter what happens upon this stage, you’re staying enrolled as a student and remaining in our employ,” Sullivan growls. “Start the song, and I’ll follow. Go grab the notebook, I’ll harmonize to you.”

Turning, I rush out of the room, hoping he knows what he’s fucking doing.

“What’s going on?” Ciara asks, just outside of the door.

“Torture,” I grunt, leaving her to follow me.

“Do I get to stab someone?” she asks, making me burst out laughing. I think this gig may be understimulating for her.

“Unless you’re willing to stab snot-nosed kids with too much time and money, unfortunately not,” I say, opening my locker in the employee lounge.

“Explain,” Ciara says slowly.

Sighing, I do as I pull out my notebook. “One of the students here is saying that I’m not pulling my weight, and that it’s unfair that I have a place at the school when there are others that deserve it more,” I explain. “So now, I have to prove that I can hack it by baring my soul with a song that is in progress.”

“You’re in here practicing extra hours before you go home several times a week,” Ciara says. “Even outside of your work duties, lately you’re here after everyone else is gone. Who the fuck is saying that?”

She may be quiet around everyone else, and I sometimes wonder what she’s thinking about, but she’s very observant. Ciara knows what I’m about, not that I’m hiding my drive to succeed.

“Arina,” I reply, closing the locker again.

“What does Sullivan say?” Ciara asks, already on her phone, to send out a quick text. I’m sure she’s messaging Jack, which as her boss, I understand the gut instinct. She protects my body from danger, and Jack protects the rest of me.

“He’s doing this with me,” I say, heading back to the auditorium.

“This will be interesting,” she says. “I’m going to join you inside the room, since everyone else is there now. I’ll be watching the door and the perimeter. You just go make that girl drown in her jealousy.”

“On it,” I promise, opening the door with a smile. “Thanks.”

“Oh, Jack is on his way. You haven’t eaten today he said,” Ciara says, brow raised as she glances up from her phone.

“Forgot my lunch and all of my snacks,” I groan. “I’m sure he’s not pleased about that.”

---