Page 11 of The Baritone's Rival

Trent’s eyebrows furrowed. “What surgery?”

“The one to have the stick removed from your ass,” Oscar answered, his tone all snark and condescension.

Trent stuffed his music into his bag and headed for the door. He needed to get out of this room. He needed to get away from Oscar.

“Trent, wait.” Julie stood, imploring, but Trent was having none of it.

Trent put up his hand to her. “No, Julie.” He turned to Oscar.

“You know, I come to class on time, I work hard, I’m dependable. What the hell else could anyone want? But for some reason, they all thinkyou’rewonderful, and I’m the stuck-up jerk. You’re a flake, and if you weren’t an Upper West Side nepo baby, you would never even have gotten into this school. No one’s going to hire someone who can’t get to work on time, no matter how good their voice is.”

Trent’s hand found the cold metal of the door handle, and he stepped halfway into the hall before turning back.

“And yours, by the way, sucks.”

He slammed the door and strode away, trying and failing to leave his hurt, his embarrassment, and his shame behind in the studio.

Chapter 4

Oscar

“Hand over your wallet and your phone, and I won’t have to hurt ya.”

The sound of the gruff, raspy voice drifted up from the empty street corner. Oscar stood high above on the roof of an apartment complex, the wind whipping through his long hair.

He had been staring out over the city, doing his damndest to stop ruminating over Trent’s injured words. He hadn’t regretted what he said—Trent had been acting like a twit—but the look on his face had made Oscar feel…something. Guilt? Trent was always so anal and annoying, but the naked hurt was unexpected. In that moment, he had turned into someone sad and scared, someone that Oscar wanted to take care of.

Then Trent had insulted his voice, so he shouldn’t feel any guilt at all. And yet…

“Now, lady!”

The urgent threat brought Oscar’s attention back to the real world. He peered down onto the moonlit streets below. Beside him, Justin tensed, his feet scuffing against the flat roof. Unnecessary. The kid was skittish, and maybe he had goodreason, but there was no way some ordinary mugger could take on one vamp, never mind two.

“They’re both human,” Justin said in a shaky whisper. “It’s not really our business. We should just leave them alone.”

Oscar shook his head. “New York is Grosvenor territory, and we’re only blocks from the covenhouse. We can’t have humans getting attacked in our neighborhood. It would be gauche.”

Below, the target of the threat, a stylish-looking Latina woman in a tan suede trench coat, took a step back from the mugger who loomed over her. He was dressed in all black. Oscar didn’t have a good angle on his face.

“Please,” the woman begged, “my life is on this phone. I’ll give you all the cash I have…”

“You’ll give me your phone, and that necklace, too.” The mugger stepped towards her.

“It was my grandmother’s!”

The mugger raised his hand. There was a sleek, black handgun in it. “No more arguing, lady.”

Oscar locked eyes with Justin, nodded, and without waiting for a response, he jumped. He landed behind the mugger, his feet barely making a sound as they hit the concrete. Justin dropped down a moment later.

The woman’s eyes went wide as she saw the two of them. She let out a yelp but immediately squelched it.

“What the hell, lady? Get moving!”

“Even a thief should have manners.” Oscar loved to play with his prey. There were some advantages to being a vampire, after all. “And no one looks good in all black, no matter what the Manhattan socialites say.”

The man spun around, the gun trained on Oscar. He was a stocky white guy with a scraggly beard. His face sported a haggard look.

“You shoulda walked away, fucker.”

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