Page 7 of Savage Guardian

The music seeped from her guitar, her fingers moving with muscle memory as she played.

The lyrics, ones borrowed from a song that never failed to light up her soul, flowed from her mind, her heart, her lips.

No matter where you go,

I will find you

If it takes a thousand years….

She strummed the melody expertly, having played the song nearly every day for the last ten years. It was her peace. Her solace. Her way of warming up her vocal cords. Her voice carried through the small room, filling her ears, making her smile—even thoughhervoice was not even close to the ethereal grace and glory of the beautiful and talented Moya Brennan—her personal and professional idol.

“Hell, Fae, you look like you’re havin’ an orgasm over there,” a voice called out, cackling.

Groaning, Fae slapped the body of her brand-new Epiphone guitar and glowered across the studio to the man who’d just interrupted her peaceful moment. She’d just pulled the beautiful instrument from its case and was tuning it when the jerk-off ruined her alone time with her newest sweet baby.

Fae thrived on alone time, especially when she was left alone with her instruments. Guitar, harp, violin, flute, and piano. The small studio—one she was assured her manager was paying out the nose to lease for the next several months—was crammed with brass and wood and strings, and she never felt more alive than she was seated on her stool, in the midst of it all, creating. Living. Breathing.

Forgetting.

“Come on, Jimmy! I was having a moment here!” she grumbled back, annoyed at the man’s interruption.

“Well, you need to pull your head out of your ass and get back to the hotel. Carrie wants ya.”

Not even bothering to hide her rolling eyes from the man who was acting as her “manager”, she carefully placed her guitar in its case, closing and securing the lid, before grasping the handle and standing. She straightened and turned to face the man who’d “discovered” her.

“You realize I’m the one whose talent will pay the bills, right? That Carrie isn’t really me, right? She can snap her fingers and demand whatever she wants, but she isn’t really the one in charge.”

At least she hadn’t been when Carrie and Jimmy had come up with the idea to pass Carrie off as the face of Aoibheal becausereasons.

Yeah, those being I’m fat and have a face for radio, not social media fame. Oh, and I stutter like an idiot in high-stress situations. Like when I’m about to take the stage at a high school talent show, and rather than go out there and show all the bullies and haters that I really had talent, I ran back home and hid in my room for three days.

“You haven’t paid meyet, girly,” he reminded her, though she didn’t need reminding that they were still waiting on word from the record label about her contract. “And you realize that her not really beingyouwas the point, right? You’re the voice and she’s the face. That was the plan. Otherwise, what the fuck are we doin’ here?”

Good question. One she’d been asking herself since Carrie and Jimmy had dragged her from her comfortable life in anonymity in Olsen, Ohio, to life on the cusp of fame in Las Vegas—that wasifshe actually finished the album Jimmy was demanding she complete.

Ten tracks in three months. Original songs. In three months! And she only had one month left to finish it, hence being in the studio, actually putting music and lyrics together. It was like asking a newborn baby to train for a marathon. Yes, she’d been singing and writing lyrics for years, but she’d taken her time on every song, pouring her heart and soul into each creation. It was what made her music so different. So popular. Now, though, greed and ambition—not hers—was driving her to create something that left her feeling…like an imposter.

You are an imposter! You aren’t even usingyour own faceto sellyour music!

“I’m here,” she replied, “because you heard me singing to myself at the gas station and figured out my ‘big secret.’” She lifted her hands for air quotes. “Then you got me drunk on cheap whiskey and convinced me that signing on as your client was the best idea I never had.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes, snorting.

“Itwasthe best idea, and now that you’re here, we’re going to make the best of it. So, stop complaining, pack up your shit, and let’s get back to the hotel. There’s some guy coming from the private security firm, and Carrie wants you there to play ‘assistant’.” It was his turn to do air quotes, except that his short, stubby fingers couldn’t quite close all the way.

The man had never seen a carb he didn’t like.

Like you’re any different, fat ass?Damn, her inner voice was slinging hurtful truths today.

Just like every day, honestly.

“The sooner you get this album done, the sooner you can go back to hiding and wallow in your self-exile while Carrie lives out her dreams as a starlet.”

“You mean she gets to live the life of her dreams pretending to be me while you force me to live in hiding for the rest of my life?”

Jimmy glared at her, his tiny eyes throwing daggers. Seeing her discomfort, he smirked. “You signed the same NDA, sweetheart. No changing your mind now. You chose to hide behind Aoibheal. You could have had all that Carrie will now have, but you gave it up.” He squared his shoulders and tugged at the bottom of his tailored black sports coat. “You have no one but yourself to blame for making Carrie into the Aoibheal you could have been.”

Biting back a curse, Fae closed her eyes, anger writhing like a venomous serpent beneath her skin.

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