Page 116 of Strum Me

“You’re an arrogant fucker, aren’t you? Why do you think this has anything to do with you?”

“Because you’ve always been jealous of me, ever since high school, ever since I got picked to be first violin in eighth grade and you just could not fucking stand it. We used to be friends, weren’t we? Or don’t you remember? Don’t you remember that once I was being favored in school you had to beat me in other ways. Isn’t that why you asked Emily out in the first place? When you knew that I was in love with her?”

“Fucking hell, are you seriously bringing up all this shit now?”

“No, you brought it up. You made it about this. About me.”

He walks over to the bar and pours himself a drink. He’s thinking, he’s thinking what it all means. He comes over and shrugs.

“FINE! Fine. I admit it. I want to you lose everything you have and wither up and fucking die.”

He takes a drink from his glass and slams it down.

“Good. That’s good. But let’s be even more specific. It’s really been about the fortune or really, in your case, the fame isn’t it? That’s what really got your goat all these years. That our band shit all over anything you’ve tried to achieve in the music business for almost a decade.”

He says nothing, but the flicker of hatred in his eyes says it all.

“Well, good. Because this next offer is really going to get your two-inch dick hard. You want what I have? You got it.”

“What?”

“The RockFever Fest. You’ve heard of it, right?”

“Shut up. What are you talking about?”

“You can have it. Your band. Headlining on the Saturday night one-hour set, 9 p.m., broadcast to almost every fucking country in the world. All yours.”

“You’re lying.”

“I didn’t fly all this way to lie to you. I have a life.”

“What’s the catch?”

“You know.”

“Emily.”

“Nope.”

“Then what?”

“Ben.”

“Fuck off.”

“All you have to do is sign these papers, releasing all rights to Ben as his biological father.” I pull out a contract from my back pocket and lay it out in front of him. My heart beats so loud, I press my hand against my chest to stifle the sound.

“What are these?” He leans over, peering at the front page.

“Just some nifty papers I had my lawyers draw up. Come on, what’s there to think about? The star performance in the year’s biggest international gig. In exchange for something you never wanted in the first place.”

“How?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s all in place with the organizers. All you have to do is sign the papers and we will say the word, pull out, and you will replace us.”

“You can’t do that. It’s not your decision.”

“Oh, but we can. We have Dennis, and that’s why we are who we are. And you are still playing opening gigs for us…and on standby lists. But this—this gig will change all that. But of course, you already know that.”