Page 143 of Wingwoman
Josh had never cared for me. All the nights we had spent laughing and sharing our deepest fears had meant nothing to him. He was a master of deception, and I had fallen right into his trap.
Reaching the exit, I pushed open the door and stepped out into the hot midday sun, burning overhead, mocking me with its bright cheeriness.
I set out for Nina’s bar, on a mission. It was only a few blocks down the street.
Barging in through the front door, I marched up to the bar, ignoring Nina as she called out, “Not open!”
“I know,” I answered back, smacking my hand to the bar.
She looked up from where she was stocking pint glasses, startled. “Hope? What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to learn about Jenn. Tell me about her.”
To Nina’s credit, the shock in her expression quickly dissolved. She gave a single, understanding nod. “I’ll do you one better,” Nina said. “I’ll take you to meet her.”
Thirty-Nine
JOSH
As I packed my equipment,I couldn’t help the twist of my stomach. I hadn’t planned on playing that song. In fact, I hated that I wrote it at all. I hated that the words came to me. That the melody played over and over in my head until I put it down on paper.
I hated that it was all about Hope.
And how despite my best efforts, she still fell for me.
And it was all going to end.
Matt leaned against the doorway, eating a cannoli.
“Thanks for the help packing up, asshole,” I muttered.
It was the sort of teasing joke I’d normally make to him that he wouldn’t bat an eye at. But today, I had more vinegar in my tone I hadn’t intended to be there. Hell, I had more vinegar in my tone witheveryonethese days.
“They loved that last song, you know. But personally? I think you finally knocked it out of the park with your mom’s song.”
I grunted a response.
“But they only want to send the second song out for solicits,” Matt said, pausing long enough to take another grumbly bite of his dessert.
I froze where I strapped my guitar into its case. “You recorded it, didn’t you? Despite telling me you wouldn’t.” I slammed my guitar case shut.
I knew the label would pressure him to record the song about Hope, but I had hoped Matt would at least hold them to their word. Of course he didn’t. I’d been around the rodeo enough to know these fuckers were all liars… even my best friend.
Maybe especially my best friend.
“It’s a good fucking song, man. Real good. Right on brand.”
“And that’s what matters most? Being on brand.”
He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “You know the label. They like tried and true. They don’t want risks. Putting out a song about your mom is a risk.”
“It literally took you weeks to convince me to record that one. I finally relent and now you’re telling me it’s not good enough?”
“That song is great, Josh. It really is.” He glanced at the room through the glass where the executives no longer stood. The room was empty and they had all vacated to go back to the office as soon as we got a good version.
“Those assholes wouldn’t know great if it pissed on their boots,” Matt whispered. “We’ll fight for that to be released with the album too. But they’re going to want Decimated as well.”
I had to choose. Do I let Hope go? Release the song about our demise? Or do I fight for us?
