Page 183 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

He told me he was poison

I didn't listen

He swore he was no good

But I saw only stars

In his eyes

In my heart

I got off on the lust

And the need

Oh, how he needed me

It was hard to see

He was the stars blinding me

“Well, shit.”

They were good. They were always good. It was like my lyrics were first draft when writing with Jamie. Her brain worked differently. And wasn’t as close to the subject matter.

She stole my book again and scribbled a few more lines before sitting forward. “I need my guitar.” Jamie shoved the book at me. “You know I hate writing without Bree.”

I sighed. Bree being her Breedlove acoustic that had followed us into every writing session since we were twenty. “Well, I was writing, not you.”

“Whatever, you know you wanted me to jump in. You’re too butthurt by dickhead’s fuckery.” She tapped her fingers on her knee. Obviously, a melody was banging around in there.

She’d be incorrigible until the song got out of her. She took a huge bite from one of her sandwiches and picked up her plate. “Let’s go.”

I took one more bite from mine and handed the rest to Oz. “I’m full.”

He took it. “Waste not, want not as my mama always said.” He dumped it on his plate then stacked his overflowing one on top of mine. “Thanks, boss.”

I grabbed my coffee and rushed after Jamie. She was hollering at her guitar tech for her acoustic. By the time I caught up with her, she was sitting cross-legged on one of the trunks littered on the stage.

I could already hear the sadness and rage in the chords. Exactly what the song needed. Regardless of all Jamie’s faults, music was her haven as much as it was mine. I could hear the words building in my mind.

She glanced up when I started singing.

She followed me as any good collaborator did. She followed my lead then our paths diverged again. We backed up and started over.

We played the song eleven times while the chaos happened around us.

Oz’s thumping bass came in and finally, Teagan’s hesitant keys.

Instead of whomping drums, Cooper brought out percussion. Low-level tones that gave the song just what it needed.

Instead of saying anything when the song ended, Oz simply came by me and circled his arms around my shoulders. Zane and Cooper followed suit, until it was Brooklyn Dawn as a unit in the center of the stage. Even the crew disappeared to give us the moment to ourselves.

My eyes were dry. The tears were long gone in the drain of the shower that afternoon. Now it was just time to use the pain. But the love of my band and my people was exactly what I needed. I didn’t even have to ask.

They just knew.

When they finally pulled back, I caught Darcy out of the corner of my eye.

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