Page 134 of Saved By My Buyers

As if I spoke it into existence, his extension rings, and it’s the front desk. Chugging my bottle of water, I wince as I realize I have to use the restroom.

“Tell her I’ll be there in five!” I say, getting up and racing from the room to pee.

“Dee!” Sullivan yells, exasperated, but I hear him speaking to Katina in the next breath.

I don’t know how this place ever survived without me.

“Mr. Hayes is a brilliant mind, but I think he’s insane for pairing us together,” Ivan grumbles. Friday came way too soon, and now I’m stuck at rehearsal with him.

Apparently, I’m the only student who calls him Sullivan. I think it’s because I was introduced to him as such, and I was never corrected. Now, after months, it’s too ingrained in me to change it.

“Well, we’re going to have to roll with it,” I mutter. “When I spoke to him about this particular grouping, he said that he imagines a haunting quality for the music we create. What do you think about that?”

“You’re such a freak,” Ivan says, making me blink at the unexpected hostility in his words. “How are we supposed to make music that matters when you’re practically an embryo in the music world? Sure, Mr. Hayes made you look good at the Open House, but we aren’t going to pull your weight for you.”

“I think you’re being really harsh,” Pilar says mildly. I’m not quite sure if she’s about to help or hurt my tenuous situation right now. “Mr. Hayes is brilliant, and it’s clear to me that Dee performed well under pressure. I don’t understand why she had to get up in front of everyone, and I think it was unfair. This is graded, so we need to get it together.”

Sullivan didn’t tell me this was graded. Wonderful.

“If Ivan can hold his comments, I think we can work something out,” I say, starting to think about what we can create. “Pilar, can you play me something that will pull some emotion out of me? I want to see something.”

Nodding, she lifts her instrument and begins to play. Listening, I start to see a pattern I can use for a song I have written but have no melody for. Humming under my breath, I nod as I grab my guitar and start to play with her.

The notes we play twist and turn together, but never clash. Ivan’s jaw drops as he listens before he begins to glare again.

“I can’t play like that,” he says once the sounds fade away. “I can write music, but I can’t jump in the way you just did.”

“So you’ll write the music,” I say with a shrug. “Let’s go. Less pouting, more action!”

Ivan snarls at me, but grabs his music sheets and a pencil with a nod. “Go again,” he grunts.

He’s a real peach.

This is our first session, and it’s late Friday afternoon. We’ll need to practice nonstop in order to be ready for this. Three hours later, we’re all exhausted and tired.

Sullivan knocks on the door of the practice room we’re in, peeking his head in. The school is closed to the public, so I’m not needed at the desk, but students are all taking advantage of every single second of practice time.

“Alright, I’m going to call it for you three before you kill each other, because you’re tired and hungry,” he says. “Get some good work in?”

“It’s alright,” Ivan allows petulantly. “I still think I’m being punished for having to work with her.”

“That’s too damn bad,” Sullivan says with a shrug. “Walk with me, Dee. I’m already getting calls about overworking you.”

“Your daddy really needs to stop being so overbearing,” Ivan says.

“Ew,” I say, horrified. While I know this is a kink, it isn’t one I have. I’m going to blame my trauma on this. “I don’t kink shame, but that’s not one of mine, Ivan.”

“I know I saw you kiss him once, but you’re really fucking him?” Ivan asks.

“All of this is inappropriate,” Sullivan growls. Yeah, he’s going to blow up soon, and I don’t want to be the reason for it.

“I’m going. I’ve had my fill of practicing,” I mutter, picking up my guitar and bag.

“I got that,” he says, taking it from me and letting me out the door. He puts the guitar away in the instruments room, and I can see he’s fuming.

“I get these backhanded comments a lot, Sullivan,” I tell him. “I ignore most of them.”

“Like you said, it’s insulting. It pisses me off,” he says as we walk. Ciara follows behind us, not looking at all bored. I don’t know how she manages it.

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