Page 40 of Mine

My phone buzzed in my pocket. My heart jumped to my throat as I pulled it out. Would it be her?

Hey Salt, it’s Tommy! Hope it’s okay I grabbed your contact info from Adam. Do you have time to schedule a meeting next week?

“What the fuck?” I whispered.

He was really persistent. I had to give him that.

But did that mean Pepper had already reached out to him? I’d left her sleeping in her bed, sheets tangled around her, dark hair splayed out. Her expression while sleeping was so damn peaceful.

Fuck. I bit my bottom lip hard enough for the pain to snap me out of thinking about her again, but only for a split second.

This was one of my problems. The moment someone showed even the slightest genuine interest in me, I attached myself to them like a damn vampire. And it didn’t help that the chemistry between us was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. It also didn’t help that she was so new to exploring her kinks.

I liked teaching.

I liked corrupting.

I blinked, staring at Tommy’s text. I didn't know what to think. What was I supposed to do?

I’d been playing guitar since I was a kid, and it was one of the only things my father would ever do with me. In moments of rare parental attention, he’d teach me how to play a few chords. Probably out of guilt for beating the shit out of me other times. But those moments still sat with me, shiny pennies gleaming on a muddy street.

Playing music made me enough money to survive until Nancy and Beth adopted me into their lives. It had been a lifeline over the years.

I wasn’t sure any of the songs I’d written were actually good, but people seemed to like them. And being on stage was maybe the closest to paradise I’d ever be.

I needed to think about my career, and if this was something I really wanted. Did I want my music to become a product they could sell?

Was I going to let other people in my home?

Having a band was a start. I loved the sound we created together, even if I didn’t necessarily like working with other people. Jack, Eric, and Tyler had made a difference in live shows though. A good difference.

I wanted to be on the stage.

I wanted to be seen by the whole damn world.

If my father were still alive, I’d show him what I’d done. What I’d built. I wasn’t worthless and cursed, I was good and talented.Right?

All of my emotions piled together into a big, ugly, erratic ball—but then there was last night. There was Pepper. And all I could think about was that setting up a meeting with Tommy would give me another reason to see her.

My fingers moved rapidly and I typed out a message, pressing send before I second guessed myself.

Hey! I have time early next Friday

His reply was almost immediate.

Yep, I’ll make that work. 10 a.m.? Send me an email address, and I’ll send an official invite with everything

I didn’t even have an official email for my music. I mean, I had the one I used to sign up for all my social media accounts, but it was a personal one.

“Damn it,” I muttered.

It didn’t matter, right?

saltybitch01110 @ gmail.com

Nice

The pressure at the back of my head eased. I exhaled and relaxed into my seat, looking out the window. I watched Nashville pass by, and tried not to get my hopes up.

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