Page 127 of Saved By My Buyers

It has Melton School of Music printed across it, and suits my needs to stay hydrated.

“Dee, head to class. I have your replacement,” Sullivan says, gesturing to a student.

Straightening, I grin at the girl, swallowing the sip of water that I just took. I have to hold back a wince, because it hurt to swallow so quickly, and walk to class. Thankfully, this is my one-on-one with my vocal coach, so I don’t need to take anything with me.

My purse is now put up in a locker in the lounge, so I don’t have to worry about it either.

It’s amazing to me that my schoolwork made it into my oversized bag, but I forgot my lunch in the fridge at home. Oh, well. I’ve been so busy, my stomach hasn’t caught up enough to be hungry.

“Hey, Dee,” my coach says with a smile. “Let’s get to work.”

Over the last six months, I’ve doubled down on musical theory, I can make a score of my songs, and I can even sing them half decently. Sullivan simply smirks when anyone mentions how odd that is, saying some people just have music in their blood.

My class lasts for an hour, and I work hard to learn to hit the notes more consistently that I typically have a problem with. There’s a song called The Forgotten that I’m writing with these types of notes, and I want it to be perfect.

At the end of the class, I can feel that they’re starting to come easier if I do the exercises she shows me.

I give her a genuine smile, and Miss Gaithersburg sighs happily. “You looked frazzled when you came in,” she says. “Now, you look satisfied and content. Try to hold onto this feeling, Dee, though it’s a madhouse today.”

“Yes, it is,” I say. “This really helped, thank you.”

Sullivan is waiting outside when I walk into the hallway, and he doesn’t look very happy.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, brow raised.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Arina has her panties in a twist, and seems to think you’re not suitable to attend and work at the school.”

“Okay,” I drawl, even though I haven’t lived in Florida in years. I’m trying hard to hold onto my zen, but I can feel it slipping through my fingers. “What does that mean?”

“How do you feel about a student showcase for the school?” Sullivan asks, wincing. “It’s really putting you on the spot, but it will shut her the fuck up.”

“You know how much I enjoy putting people in their place, Sullivan,” I say with a grin. “Is this going to happen in the next few minutes?”

“Ah, yes. There’s also another thing,” he says.

“Yeah?” I ask. I’m certain I’m not going to enjoy whatever it is he says.

“Arina and her father want the spotlight to include something you’re currently working on,” he says.

“But, my progress pieces aren’t done,” I remind him, holding onto my professionalism thinly. What I want to do is yell at him, because he’s letting a student and her parent lead him around by the nose.

“I know,” he mutters. “I would usually just ignore this, but they’ll just come up with something new, and I want to nip this in the bud. I’m going to play with you, I don’t give a fuck if she doesn’t like it.”

“None of my newer songs are scored to music,” I sigh. “Most of it is still in my head.”

“That’s fine, I’ll follow your lead,” he says. “I learned music by ear first, and then learned the notes. It’s why I insist on giving people with gifts a chance. Art finds its way to the light in so many ways. Go take five, regroup, and then come kick some ass with me, yeah?”

“Don’t tell me how many people are going to be listening, please. I don’t want to know,” I tell him, headed for the bathroom to decide on what I want to perform and wrap my mind around this.

I’m willing to bet anything that this has to do with the fact that Ivan hasn’t been openly hostile in the last few months. I still get the odd glare, but that’s it. Newsflash twatapotamus: I don’t want your boyfriend.

Jealous and petty vibes aren’t going to take me out today though. I’ve lived through worse, last weekend is evidence of it.

Ready or not, here I come.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dahlia

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