Page 130 of Saved By My Buyers

I’m forgotten on these streets.

Drowning in the madness.

Can’t you see I’m reaching out…?

Can’t you see me…?

Or am I no longer visible…

As the words fade, I quickly brush away the tears I didn’t realize had escaped, my lips twisting in embarrassment. God, I hate crying in general, doing it in front of my peers just feels weak.

Sullivan tugs me to stand as the audience remains silent before exploding into applause. There are a few people who are crying, but I did warn them it was raw and emotional.

“I trust this will be the last time anyone suggests that I’m going soft,” Sullivan growls. “This will conclude the Open House. Please leave in an orderly fashion, and don’t forget to pick up your belongings with the guard.”

Turning off the microphone, Sullivan blows out a breath. “I’m sorry I made you do this,” he grunts. “You were incredible for the record. Ah, and there’s your boyfriend now. I’m sure he’s going to kick my ass for this.”

“He would not,” I gasp, grabbing my notebook and turning to find Jack. If thunderclouds could be shrunk down, that’s what you’d find in his mismatched gaze right now.

Shit.

Heading in his direction, I walk down the stairs, taking his hand when he offers it.

“You sing beautifully,” he murmurs. “I hardly ever get to catch you practicing.”

I don’t do it on purpose, but my mistakes feel glaring and ugly to me, especially when I sing. So while I’ll practice the guitar at home, I’ll only sing when I’m alone.

“Thank you,” I rasp. “This was very impromptu.”

“I heard,” Jack says, glaring at his friend as he follows behind me.

“Let me clear the school, and then you can punch me if you want,” Sullivan grunts. “I kind of want to kick my own ass. Dee was fucking impressive, though.”

“Please tell me you’re not going to hit him,” I sigh. Jack raises a sub sandwich bag, head motioning for me to follow him.

“How shaky are you from not eating all day?” he asks instead, his hand on the small of my back as we walk.

People stare at us as we move past, and Arina is speaking to what appears to be her father. He’s a bit taller than me, wearing a dark double-breasted suit and nice shoes, and I can see the tattoos peeking out along his neck and knuckles.

The man leans forward as I begin to walk past them, as if trying to memorize my face.

A shiver races down my spine at his closeness, and Jack moves me, so I’ll walk along his other side.

“Do you have a problem, Sir?” Jack asks. It’s surprising that he’s so polite, but I can see why. This is Sullivan’s school, and Jack’s security company is on retainer.

“Why is she so good?” Mr. Adamson asks. “Isn’t this a new student with no previous education? What kind of trick is this?”

“Some people have music in their soul,” Jack says, shrugging. “Dee is one of those people. She’s moved very quickly in her education, as you just saw. There’s no trickery to it, just raw gifts. Everyone who walks into this school has to audition in some form or fashion. You know this.”

“Yes, I do. My daughter told me she didn’t deserve a place here,” Mr. Adamson says. “I will be sure she curbs her tongue. Jealousy is an ugly thing. Let’s go home, Arina. I’m ashamed of you.”

“But, Papa…” She sighs. Arina shuts her mouth when he glares at her, and as they leave, so do the other people who were watching the exchange of words.

“I should be helping Sullivan,” I tell Jack as we walk into the lounge and I sit down. I’m starving, my hands shaking as the adrenaline begins to fade.

“Nah, he’ll be alright,” Jack grunts, getting a plastic plate and a bottle of water from the fridge. “Eat, baby girl. I can see your hands shaking from here.”

Waving the white flag, I open up the paper wrapping my food, and Ciara pops her head into the room.

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