Page 12 of His Greatest Muse

“Fine.” I sit in the chair, letting it hug my back. Crossing my ankles, I look at him expectantly.

He leans across the board and uses the intercom to tell Dagger to wait another minute before working his fingers across the buttons again with startling expertise. A heavy beat fills the room, followed by my voice.

I fall into the new song, memorizing it. Each note, beat, and breath. It swirls in my soul, leaving behind a fingerprint. Approval burns through me, lighting me up.

“It’s good,” I mutter, my fingers dancing on the arms of the chair in time with the beat. I imagine how it would feel to play this live, with my guitar in my hands, the strings plucking at my fingertips as the crowd roars. It’s electric. The best feeling.

“Glad you think so. I want Garrison to add it to the set list.”

I nod. “Good.”

“Got a name yet?”

“No.”

He pats my shoulder, and the song fades away. “You will. Let me know as soon as you do, and I’ll send over the finished track.”

“Yeah. Why is Dagger here?”

He’s staring at us from behind the glass, his scowl deep, thick with jealousy. I smirk, tilting my head. His grip tightens on his guitar, fingertips white.

“There were a few beats I needed him to re-record.” Reggie speaks into the speaker at Dagger. “Start right after the second verse, slower this time.”

Dagger tips his chin in a barely there nod before relaxing, zoning into the music. His buzzed hair has started to grow out again, along with his beard. It’s rough-looking, in anI don’t care way. It’s all an act, though. I’m sure of it.

“Did you see Josh this morning? He was supposed to be here two hours ago,” Reggie says.

“No.”

He was either gone or asleep when I left. His door was shut, and I wasn’t going to knock to find out if he was home. He’s not my responsibility.

“I worry about him.”

“You worry about everyone. You should stop that,” I mutter.

He looks at me, and the sympathy in his stare churns my stomach. I stiffen, taking a mental step back from him as the darkness inside of me tries to take hold.

“It’s not a bad thing to worry about those in your life,” he tells me softly. I hate that tone of voice.

There’s no reason for anyone to feel sorry for me. To look at me with this disgusting sympathy. I chose to be this way. While most people seem to have convinced themselves there’s something wrong with me, that isn’t the entire story. I want to be like this. Want to not care about anyone. Why would I? I’ve already given Tinsley that power over me. My small reserve of care has been drained.

I’ve never hidden that from anyone. It’s their fault if they’re disappointed when they can’t find anything left in me to take for themselves.

“Don’t,” I spit.

He blinks, feigning innocence. “Don’t what?”

“Treat me like I’m broken. I get enough of that from my father.”

“What do you mean?”

I immediately know I’ve made a misstep. That I’ve opened a door I should have kept locked.

With a twist of my body, I’m out of the chair and halfway to the door before he says, “You don’t have to leave, Noah. I’m sorry, I was out of line.”

“Get the song on the set list, Reggie,” I order coolly, and then I’m out the door.

If I wanted to be counselled, I would have stayed with one of the five therapists my dad handed me to when I was a kid. All I want now is to see my golden girl. She’s the only one who can calm the monster inside of me before he takes over.

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