Page 182 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

And I usually took up that mantel, but sometimes I was tired.

And sometimes she went out with Oz and then left him when he wasn’t paying attention to her whereabouts. Then that was where the trouble began.

Like Georgia.

Small towns were the worst when it came to boredom. Why we didn’t do the bus too often these days. Or the smaller towns, to be honest. Most of the arenas we were in these days were major towns. Which suited Jamie.

Metropolitan towns didn’t shut down at nine o’clock.

Didn’t stop her from getting in trouble, but at least the bouncers knew how to deal with her personality. Mostly.

Jamie sat back with a huff. “There better be food at the venue.”

“Martha always takes care of you,” Zane said as he sat across from her.

She sighed and hit play again. The guitar solo b

lared in both of our ears.

After the second run-through, I took my earbuds out.

My head was too full of the ideas for the extended cover song. The words were hard-won today, coming in dark lyrics that I usually avoided. Brooklyn Dawn songs were multi-faceted, but we tried to skew toward hopeful in the darkness. Unfortunately, all my words were as twisted as gnarled roots right now.

Once we got to the venue, we made our way to food service first. I went right for the coffee station. I wasn’t really hungry, but I knew I needed to eat to stave off the headache brewing. I took a healthy sip from my iced coffee and nibbled on some chicken salad on a bagel with sprouts.

Jamie had two sandwiches and a side of macaroni salad that might break her plate. It looked as if there was an entire pound of bacon on her ham monstrosity. She ate like a fourteen-year-old boy during a growth spurt and never gained an ounce. In fact, if she didn’t eat at least five times a day she lost a good five pounds in a week.

Once we sat down and I had my songbook open, she leaned over to look. I resisted the urge to cover my work. I’d promised not to keep things from Jamie after I’d fessed up about Nash.

“Well then. Are we going for a razor to the balls or just peeling his dick like a banana?”

I looked down at the words. “It’s not that bad. And who says it’s about him?”

She snorted and took another healthy bite.

I plucked my lucky pen from my hair. “It’s not that serious.”

“He fucked with your head. All good. We can’t castrate him for real, but we can do it with thinly veiled words like a fucking professional.”

He told me he was no good

But I didn't listen

He swore he wasn’t enough

But I saw only a path of stars

I got off on

The lust and the fun

It was hard to see

That the stars were blinding me

She snatched my book and started scratching in words with the stub of a pencil she kept in her jacket. Her travel songbook was more of a mini-notebook, but since I’d already started scribbling… Well, it was my own fault.

She gnawed on the eraser, then crossed out two of my lines and refined them. She handed it back. “Not mean enough. I could go meaner, but this is a good start.”

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