Page 177 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

Unlove you til I believe

Unlove you til I don’t care

Unlove you and you’ll never notice

Because you want the world

Not me

I wanted to gouge out the words, but they wouldn’t stop repeating in my brain.

Angel’s breathy voice with no accompaniment made it so much worse.

“Unlove” was bad enough, but the song we wrote together in The Barn too? The one where he’d finally sung himself for the first time in too many years to easily count. The song we’d ripped out of the newness and reverbing echo of our past.

Goddamn him.

By the end of the shower, my throat was raw and my eyes were even worse, but now I could face the world. Now I could ready a plan.

Sawing me in two only made two bitches ready for the world.

Two smart, talented women who would get through this. I’d never really given my heart like that before. Having him toss it back in my face in such a public forum would be met with equal relish.

I stepped out of the shower and calmly slathered myself in the lotions, tricks to kill puffiness, and moisturizers that would show just how much of an Ice Queen I really was.

I tied my hair in a ruthless pair of braids, then wrapped them around my head in a crown. Deft makeup highlighted the coolness of my eyes and slashing bone structure. No softness, no sweetness for the world to see. Only the kickass woman who’d fought her way out of the male dominated landscape of musicians.

Brooklyn Dawn was still here.

Lindsey Fucking York was still here.

And I wasn’t going to show anyone just how much he broke me.

Not anymore.

Black leggings and matching boots paired with a studded black shirt showed off my tall, lithe frame. No fragility here. I smoothed my hand down my hips. Yoga and a brutal trainer who attacked us three times a week on the tour kept me in shape.

I snapped my leather jacket off the back of the door, grabbed my songbook, and pounded on Jamie’s door connecting our rooms. “Let’s roll.”

Jamie opened the door wearing a ripped to shit tank and hopefully, underwear. I never knew with her. “What the hell?” She looked me up and down. “Okay, Princess Badass, what’s up?”

I pushed past her. “I have a song I want to work on.”

She closed the door and leaned back on it, crossing her arms. “Now? We have to leave for soundcheck soon.”

“I know.”

She grabbed a pair of jeans off the chair covered in her clothes. We were only staying for one night. How could she have so much pulled out of her damn bag?

“What’s the rush?” She twisted her long hair into a top knot, red and purple streaks bumping everywhere from her messy scrape of midnight hair. She went into the bathroom then returned with a face full of toothpaste foam. She pulled her purple brush out of her mouth. “Are you okay?”

I crossed my arms. “No.”

She continued brushing, but didn’t stop staring at me.

“What?”

She shrugged then returned to the bathroom. Water ran, I heard her messing with her toiletry bag, the sound of aerosol, and finally, banging hangers. Finally, she came back out with a new shirt on.

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