Page 24 of Savage Salvation

It’s a great thought. But I’ve never been good at holding back. “Can’t get any slower.” At least that’s how my progress with Kinsley feels.

“Yeah. Less of this”—he holds up his empty shot glass—“and more of this.” He takes a sip of water. “I was puking for hours last weekend. I don’t want to be doing that all day tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. I should slow down so I don’t wreck my plans because it’s gonna be a long, but perhaps progressive day.

“I’ll be right back.” I slide off the barstool, heading towards the stage.

“Do you really think any of this is helping you win?” Memphis shouts.

Fuck no. “Can’t hurt.” It’s not like I have any progress to worry about. I stop at the edge of the stage, tuck my hands in my pockets, and watch her. Once her eyes open, doing her quick scan, she spots me. Her mouth forms a tight line, her movements become more rigid as she continues playing her stand-in instrument. To me, she’s playing perfect but there’s something that doesn’t seem as natural with her holding the new instrument.

When the song ends, the crowd cheers, the lead dweeb yelling to the crowd. I remain still, silent as I listen to him jabber about something before Isaac starts drumming, the music starting back up and Kinsley falls into the melody, her eyes closing for the most part, only randomly looking to me for brief seconds. When I sit back at the bar, I realize she watched where I went because her eyes still find mine occasionally. My guess is to check my distance or make sure I’m not nearby. Don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to be in the vicinity of my sorry ass either.

18

Kinsley

“You can say no,” I tell Johnny, but he waves off my statement. “Seriously. If it’s putting you in a bind, I’ll stay, and the guys will understand.” Because they have to. My job has to come before the gigs. I already missed hours last night. And now I’m going to have to miss over half my shift for us to make it on time since there’s a good distance we’ll be traveling.

Cruz said the money was too good to pass up, and I agreed after he told me what my cut would be, minus a few for the van and hotel room. Only, I’m still weighing the option of driving my own car, but that would cut into my share. And now that I seemingly have to buy a new guitar, I’ll need the extra funds. Johnny said I can use the loaner as long as needed, but I don’t want it. I don’t even want a new guitar. I want mine.

“Kinsley. Go. Have fun. Be young. Be merry.” He glances to the front of the store, looking out the window.

“I really need this job, so if the band—”

“Stop. Nonsense. There’s no way I’d ever replace you.” He gives me a heartfelt smile, patting me on the arm. “Now, go pack up. I can handle the store for the day. I was planning on being here until closing anyways.”

“All right.” I go grab my things from the back room, cramming pajamas and clothes for tomorrow in my bag, then I hear Johnny call out my name. Did he change his mind?

“Yes, sir,” I say, stopping mid-step when I spot him. Gage. A smug smile on his face, he’s seated on the wooden bench in front of the guitars for sale. I’d really consider purchasing one solely for the purpose of smashing it over his head in this moment. But that would almost certainly get me fired. And it’s the only thought that keeps me from springing into action.

“Here she is.” Johnny beams, motioning to me. “Don’t keep her long. She has a show to get to. But if there’s something you can’t master on the strings, she’ll be able to help you figure it out.”

“Thanks, Johnny.” Gage says my bosses name with way too much familiarity and Johnny responds with too much happiness since he doesn’t know he’s within striking distance of a true menace.

“Mm, don’t thank me until she agrees to the lessons.” Johnny winks at me, rubbing his fingers together just out of view of Gage. If he only knew there’s no amount of money worth tutoring this asshole. Although, if it were up to me, I’d say common courtesy and how to not be a douchebag should be first on the list of things he needs to learn.

“Hm. The lessons you could teach me.” Gage’s deep voice vibrates through my body, hammering on every raw nerve he’s exposed and a few new ones he hasn’t.

This is now my job he’s screwing with. “Is there nothing off-limits to you? Because I’d really like to keep my job here, but you’re making it difficult since murdering customers is frowned upon.”

He laughs.

I don’t.

My arms fold across my chest, glancing over to where Johnny is standing behind the register, flipping through some paperwork. Occasionally, he gives us a quick look, but goes straight back to his task. I’m not sure I’ll ever find a more understanding boss, but I guarantee he has a limit. So, it’s really not a good idea to throat punch Gage. Yet.

There’s an ounce of hope that I can convince him to concede right now. At least keep my workplace off-limits, especially when my boss is present. Does his underdeveloped brain even feel empathy? “Even if the conditions here aren’t up to par by your standards, I need this place. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand that lesson for sure.”

“Make me understand.” His strained whisper grips me, clutching at my already scratchy throat.

“I’d rather jump out of an airplane without a parachute.” Because that seems easier than making this asshat understand something simple. I turn and head to the back of the store.

But he can’t just possibly let me walk away, not without cutting me deeper. “I’d still catch you.”

I wish. He says things like that, but I don’t have anyone I can trust anymore. My mom used to be that person. Gage will never be.

19