Dissonance - Chapter 33

I saw Mr. Packer a couple times in the hall over the next few days, and I guess he did get the message, because the smile was gone and he was back to glowering at me. I hadn’t heard anything else from Mom, and surprisingly, nothing from Dad either. While I wasn’t exactly happy, I was willing to settle back into my routine and leave it alone if they were. Soon, I’d have to do something, but the only option I could think of would definitely be considered the nuclear option, and I didn’t want to go that far unless I really had no choice.

Wednesday, there was a somewhat pleasant distraction when Cameron’s article came out in the school paper, at least at first. The school put the papers out early that morning so kids could grab copies on their way into the school. They only published one a month, but it was always chaos for the first several classes that day. I’d wondered why they didn’t put them out at lunch, but I guess tradition ‘was what it was.’

I don’t even think it was the articles that people got excited over. You give that many teenagers that much extra paper, and you’re guaranteed to end up with havoc as paper airplanes, trash can basketball and spit wads consumed everyone’s attention for at least a few hours.

Some people did read it, though, since I got stopped several times in the hall. Mostly they wanted to know about my brushes with famous people. They asked if I really was friends with Linda Chapman, if I’d really played on stage with Nightshade, and if I could swing them tickets to a Ronnie Ralston concert. I tried to downplay it as much as possible. I mean, I’d spoken to Ronnie for all of two minutes and, while I was friendly with Linda, I didn’t know if it was fair to call her a friend. I couldn’t just call her up and shoot the shit and I wasn’t hanging out at her house.

Still, celebrity is the most important thing in teenagers' minds, after sex maybe, and the way Cameron had written about it, I was one step away, making me a celebrity by proxy. The weirdest part was when I went into math class and my teacher stopped me.

“Charlie, do you have a second?”

“Sure,” I said, heading over to her desk.

“I just read the article about you. Is it true you played with House of Graceand you’re friends with their lead singer? My sister loves them and it would be amazing if I could get an autographed picture or something from them.”

It was all I could do to not roll my eyes or let out an exasperated sigh.

“I opened for them this summer because we’re on the same label and their opener cancelled at the last-minute. I do know her, but we’re more of acquaintances. I don’t think I could be any more help getting her to sign something than anyone who goes to one of her concerts.”

I’d almost said ‘and it isn’t like I have her number,’ but that would have been a lie. I actually did have her number from the one time she called me, but I knew for a fact that letting that be known would be a huge mistake. She was nice and probably would sign something if I asked, but not only would that be a massively uncool move on my part, I didn’t want to waste the chance that she’d answer my call on something like that. I might need something in the future and she would be a lot less likely to answer a second time if I started calling and asking for autographs for other people.

“Ohh, I just thought you were friends by the way Cameron made it sound.”

“Yeah, that’s probably my fault,” I said, not wanting her to think Cameron was making stuff up. “I maybe got too excited about some of the stuff we did this summer.”

“Okay. That’s too bad, but I get it. Go ahead and take your seat.”

As soon as it was time for lunch, I dashed to the cafeteria, hovering about, looking for Cameron. As soon as I saw him I grabbed him by the arm and told him to follow me outside.

“What?” he asked when we finally stopped walking.

I made sure we had a decent amount of space between us and any other kids.

“You’re killing me,” I said.

“What do you mean.”

“What do I mean? I mean the article. For one, it’s all about me and how great I am, which is going to make Marco have kittens. For another, everyone now thinks I’m buddy-buddy with celebrities. Do you know how many people have asked me if I can get them autographs, or tickets to shows, or a piece of someone’s clothing? Hell, I even had a teacher ask me if I could get an autograph. I thought we’d agreed you’d write about the band.”

“We did, but I had to change a lot of that after this weekend. You have to admit, that stuff with Nightshade was incredible. It would have been journalistic malpractice to not make that the highlight of the piece.”

“That’s great and all Bernstein of you, but did you have to blow the Ronnie Ralston thing so far out of proportion. I don’t think what happened could be called a ‘precious moment between performers’ or that she ‘gave her blessing to my career.’ I also think calling Linda Chapman a ‘close, personal friend’ was a massive overstatement.”

“Okay, so I took a little poetic license, but Ronnie did say she admired what you said about Nightshade’s guitarist and that she thought you could go far in your career. And Chapman helped you get your record contract.”

“She made some calls, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to be my best man one day. Seriously though, you’re killing me.”

“I’m sorry, I went a little overboard. It’s just, when the editor read it, he thought it was the best thing we’ve ever done. He actually asked if I could do more pieces on you, as you continue your career.”

“No. No way in hell. I like you Cameron, but I don’t want to be the subject of more articles and I definitely don’t want teachers asking me for autographs of famous people I may have met.”

“Isn’t the goal to be famous, though? I mean, once you make it, you’re going to have people writing about you all the time.”

“If that happens, at least I’ll have the money that goes along with it. Seriously though, it was okay this time, but it could have gotten really bad if Eli or Ronnie had said something in passing, when I met them, that they didn’t think would become general knowledge. That wasn’t an interview session and they weren’t expecting to have someone taking notes to put their words into a newspaper. Yeah, it might be a school newspaper for a small country town, but if it was really juicy, I guarantee word would have gotten out and it would be picked up by actual newspapers before long. That kind of thing never stays contained. If I do want to make it, I can’t start by alienating people I might need to work with in the future.”

“I can be more careful. Treat stuff as on the record or off the record, and not write about anything without approval.”

“Cameron, man, you’re killing me. I get this was good for you, and you’re probably getting pushed by your editor; but I thought you wanted to be a Broadway star. What’s with the sudden jones for being a journalist.”

“I’m a realist, Charlie. Seeing you do your thing, your stage presence, and now seeing what goes on backstage, I realize I might not be as good as I think I am. I mean, I know I’m good now, but that’s in high school, compared to other kids my age. Everyone on Broadway was the best person in their high school. I’m not saying I’m giving up on my dream, but I need to be realistic about this.”

“I get it. It’s the same reason Mom wants me to go to college, and I sympathize, but not enough to let you make your high school journalistic name on my back. I’m sorry man. You know I’d do whatever I can to support you, but there’s got to be a line.”

“No, I get it. I appreciate you letting me follow you around. Maybe if you get some big news you could give it to me at the same time as you give it to the real newspapers, so I can at least break it here. That way I’m not following you around or anything, but still getting the inside scoop. That might be enough to keep my editor off my back.”

“I’ll do my best. I’m still beholden to the label, so I don’t have complete control over when or how things are released, but I’ll try and keep you in the mix as best as I can.”

“That’s fair. Thanks, man.”

“Sure. I’m still pissed at you, though,” I said, smiling so he knew I was joking.

“Get over it,” he said, getting a laugh out of both of us.

All the attention was a little annoying, but considering all the other stuff going on, it was a minor problem, but at least I’d nipped it in the bud before it became something major.

Thankfully, the commotion had more or less died down by Friday. High school was full of drama, but at least it was almost always short-lived since there was always something new happening to distract everyone.

While that was at least good news, my newest difficulty came that afternoon when I made it out to the parking lot to head to the Blue Ridge for training and to set up for that night's show. I felt something was off when I was halfway across the parking lot, but it wasn’t until I was closer that I realized all four of my car’s side windows had been smashed out and the front and back windshields were cracked from impacts in multiple spots. There were also dents along the doors, like someone had taken a baseball bat to my car.

It wasn’t hard to guess who that someone was. It must have happened earlier in the day, because even Harry wasn’t stupid enough to do something like that with witnesses around, not after his previous attempts to screw me over had been ruined by someone seeing him do it.

I was furious. Yes, I’d threatened him and probably made him feel small, which could have been what escalated this, but it wasn’t like Harry had been hands-off before now. The only reason I’d threatened him at all was because of his constant antics. My first thought was to track him down and beat the crap out of him, but that wasn’t going to solve this situation. I also held off on calling a tow truck, but I obviously wasn’t going to be able to drive it, considering how messed up the front windshield was.

I texted Lyla to let her know I’d be late and that they should set up without me, and Chef to let him know what was happening, and then stopped to consider my options. Option one was to go into the school and report it. I knew from previous experiences they had cameras pointed at the parking lot, but I also knew they’d argue that they didn’t have any responsibility for what happened in the parking lot after school, and it was unlikely Mr. Packer would want to help me anyway.

Option two was to call the police. This was a crime, and I needed to report it, especially if I wanted insurance to cover replacing the windows. That meant involving Sydney’s father, also not my biggest fan. So far he hadn’t gone out of his way to actually cause me trouble, at least not how Mr. Packer had. He’d just bought into the BS that others were telling him and decided I was a troublemaker.

In the end, I went with option two. I needed a police report one way or the other, and there was always a chance a deputy would respond. I called the non-emergency number and reported the crime, and they said they’d dispatch someone to take a statement and make a report.

Surprisingly, I didn’t have to wait long. The reason for that was pretty obvious when I saw Sydney’s father behind the wheel of his patrol car. He must have seen my name or the school and decided to come deal with it himself. I knew this was a possibility and had almost gone to get Sydney so she could be here as an intermediary to keep her father from doing or saying anything rash, but decided against it. She had swim practice and they had a big meet coming up, that she wanted to do well at, and I wasn’t sure she’d actually temper his response that much. Besides, I might have won her mother over, but he was still wildly against me dating his daughter, and shoving it in his face didn’t seem like it would be productive.

“What did you do?” he asked as soon as he stepped out of his cruiser, setting things off on exactly the tone I thought he would.

“Nothing. I got out of class, came out to the parking lot to leave, and found my car like this.”

“Was there anyone near the vehicle when you came out?”

“No, Sir,” I said, hoping if I was very respectful and patient, maybe I could get him to be at least a little objective. “I have a good idea who did it. I’ve had trouble with a kid here at school, who has a history of attacking other students.”

“As do you,” he pointed out. “What exactly did you do to this kid?”

“I told him to leave Sydney alone after he made some threats to her and scared her.”

Of course, that wasn’t completely honest. My problems started way before I even met her and the only reason Harry had said anything to Sydney was because of me, but I hoped invoking his daughter’s name might at least get him to be less hostile to me.

“I see. And did you see him do this? Or did anyone else see him?”

“I don’t think so, but the school has cameras pointed out here at the parking lot. Whoever did it should be on those tapes. There are still people in the administration offices who could probably get them for you.”

“I see,” he said, but didn’t move, still looking over my car, although not actually going up to it.

The longer I waited, the more it seemed like he might not go look at the tape at all. I was starting to think he might tell me it was too bad and leave, but instead he uncrossed his arms and turned to walk toward the school.

“Wait here,” he said over his shoulder, almost as an afterthought, as he walked away.

It seemed like an eternity passed. I still didn’t call for a tow truck, because I didn’t know how long this would take and didn’t want to pay the driver to sit around and wait for him to finish. After almost twenty minutes, he came back out, a frown on his face.

“Any luck?” I asked when he got to me.

“No. Apparently, that camera got broken by some kind of debris that flew into it this morning. The school already put out a repair order for it, but right now, you can’t see anything from it.”

Harry learned his lesson from the last time he and Aaron had ended up on video. If anything, I was the one who screwed up this time. I had underestimated Harry thinking he was an idiot, and didn’t figure he’d actually take more than the most obvious steps to get at me. I parked in the same place every day, making it very easy for him to take out one camera, especially since I parked at one corner of the lot, near the baseball fields, meaning he could throw a rock or something and break that camera without being seen by the other parking lot cameras. If I moved to different areas every day, he wouldn’t have been able to set this up, but I didn’t even consider he’d take steps to keep from being caught. I could have kicked myself.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

“Not without witnesses or video. Even if there were fingerprints on your car, you’ve admitted to knowing this boy, so I’m betting there have been chances he might have touched your vehicle, explaining them, right?”

“Probably.”

It wasn’t like I washed my car often, and I was parked by the baseball field. It took me all of two seconds to think up several scenarios he could use to give an innocent explanation for fingerprints.

“I can write up a report stating your windows were broken by an unknown perpetrator and file a report, but nothing will ever come of it.”

“Can I get that, so I can give it to my insurance company?”

He didn’t say anything again for several seconds, and once again I thought he was about to say no.

“I guess,” he said with a shrug, going back to his patrol car.

While he did that, I called the town mechanic and he agreed to come out and fix it today or tomorrow. The good news was, he could replace the windows here in the parking lot, so I didn’t need to get it towed, which would save some money, but it was still going to be expensive to change out six windows, especially when two of them were front and rear windshields.

“You can’t drive that,” he said, pointing at my car.

“I know, I already called Emmets. He’s coming out tonight or tomorrow and replacing the windows here. I was going to go see if I could get a ride with Sydney.”

That last sentence slipped out of my mouth before I thought twice, once again showing how often I said stuff without thinking. I just thought that if her mom was picking her up, she liked me and was my best bet for a ride home. I knew Kat had her therapist appointment after swimming and didn’t want to get in the way of her treatment. Saying it to him, however, was a mistake.

“I’m her ride home.”

“Ohh,” I said, obviously deflating.

I couldn’t call Mom, not with everything that was going on, and Mrs. Phillips had a showing this afternoon and it would be several hours until she was done. I guess I could call someone from the band, but they were setting up and I didn’t like for them to be reminded that I was a high school kid, since they always treated me differently for a little while every time my age was brought up. That left walking, which was possible, since it was only a couple of miles, but that would be a massive pain in the ass. At least I had a change of clothes and was already planning on taking a shower there before our gig. Even though I’d miss training, since it would take some time to walk, Chef would still let me take a shower.

“Okay, I’ll walk then. Thanks for the report,” I said, trying to still be courteous as I took my duffle bag and guitar out of the trunk.

At least Harry was too dumb to look at stealing things from me at the same time as he broke my windows, because losing my guitar would be a much larger problem. Aside from my car, it was the most expensive thing I owned, and it wasn’t that much less expensive than the car, and losing it would make it hard to make the money needed to replace it.

The sheriff went back to his cruiser while I started walking towards the road, backpack on, guitar in my left hand and duffle bag in my right.

“Wait,” he called out from his car.

My shoulders sagged. He must have found something else to hassle me about. Maybe it was against the law or something to leave a car with no windows in a parking lot, and he saw an opportunity to write me a ticket.

“Yes, Sir?” I said, walking back to his cruiser, trying my hardest not to give any sass.

“Where do you need to go?”

“The Blue Ridge,” I said, confused.

He paused a moment, considering, then opened the back of the patrol car.

“Get in,” he said. “Sydney still has an hour. I’ll give you a ride.”

I just stood there, shocked. Nothing about this man had ever suggested he was capable of being helpful to people he disliked. I didn’t think this was some kind of ploy or that he was planning on hurting me. As hostile as he was, I didn’t get the feeling he was corrupt and there were witnesses in the parking lot. They weren’t paying attention, but they wouldn’t have failed to notice the patrol car or me talking to the sheriff.

“Do you want the ride or not?” he asked in an annoyed tone, probably because I’d been frozen there for too long, trying to figure out why he was making the unexpected offer.

“Sorry, yes. Thank you.”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, shutting the door behind me.

I couldn’t help but notice he had put me in the back, where I couldn’t open the doors for myself, like I was a criminal, instead of upfront with him. Still, it was a nice gesture that he definitely didn’t have to make, and would allow me to still get some training in. He didn’t speak the whole drive and I felt too awkward to be the one to speak first, so we rode in silence the whole way.

When we got there, he pulled up front, opened the door, and let me out, without saying a word, even as he climbed back in and pulled out.

Willie was up on the porch as usual and raised an eyebrow at me as I walked up the steps, all of my stuff in my hands. He wasn’t wrong to be intrigued, since that must have been a strange scene. I was intrigued myself.

Was it possible I might have misjudged Sydney’s father? Maybe he wasn’t all bad after all.

***

I had to cancel my date with Sydney on Saturday, since I had to go deal with my car. She couldn’t drive yet, so she couldn’t exactly help with that, but she understood.

“Guess what else happened?” I said after breaking our date.

“Beyond your car getting smashed up?”

“Yep. Your father was the one to come write up the report. After doing all that, he offered me a ride up to the Blue Ridge.”

“See, I told you he wasn’t a bad guy. You two just got off on the wrong foot.”

“Maybe. It was the tensest car ride I’ve ever had and neither of us said a thing the whole way.”

“He’s just protective of me. Give him some time and he’ll come around. Mom was singing your praises after we got back. I think we can win him over.”

“I hope so,” I said, although I didn’t believe it.

Even if he wasn’t the guy I thought he was, too many people who were exactly who I thought they were hated me, and made sure he knew it. Considering one of them was the county DA and one was the largest employer in town, their opinions carried a lot of weight, and there was no way they were going to stay silent about me once they knew I was dating his daughter.

Instead of our date, I spent an hour on the phone with Sydney, at least getting time for us to talk. I’d just hung up when the phone rang again. She liked to play a game where she called back several times after we stopped talking, pretending to be mad at me for hanging up on her. I know if I told anyone else about it, it would sound dumb or annoying, but I found it cute.

“I swear I didn’t hang up first,” I said, without even checking the caller id before I hit the answer button.

I should have, since Kent’s voice came through the other end, sounding confused.

“What?”

“Ohh, sorry Kent, I thought you were someone else. What’s up?”

To my surprise, the confusion didn’t disappear from his voice, and instead annoyance or maybe even anger was added to it.

“Why did you fire Warren? I thought you two were getting along great, especially with how well everything went with the festival.”

“What?” I asked.

“Warren. Your parents called to activate the part of the contract that gives them veto power over your management. They said they weren’t happy with the decisions Warren was making, and they wanted him gone. I don’t understand it. I tried to talk to them, to get clarification, because he hasn’t even been on the job long enough for anyone to get any kind of impressions about him, but they were adamant.”

I grimaced. It took almost no time for me to realize what had happened, and I was so furious I almost chucked the phone across the room.

“Charlie?” Kent asked when I didn’t respond right away, because I was taking a few deep breaths to get control of myself.

“Sorry. When you say my parents, was it both of my parents, or my father?”

“Your father.”

“I thought so. We have a problem, Kent. My father and I don’t see eye to eye on my career, and he’s been trying to make some calls for me. I’ve tried to handle it myself, but I guess he’s decided to go around me directly to you now. I don’t want to fire Warren.”

“I see. I hate to tell you this Charlie, but the way the contract is set up, and because you’re a minor, your parents technically have the say so in this.”

“Seriously.”

“I’m afraid so. Maybe if you could get your mother to call and tell us she disagreed, we could figure out a way to make it work, but I can’t take your decision over your guardians’.”

“No. I mean, yeah, I get what you’re saying, but she won’t go against him. It’s all his idea, though.”

“This is going to make it hard on us, Charlie, because Warren is one of our best, and I can’t think of any good reason your father wants to remove him.”

“It’s because he’s willing to work with me around my school schedule and Dad wants me to drop out of school and tour full time. I had him under control until he saw our first-week numbers. Now he’s convinced I’m his meal ticket. He already tried to pull me out of school this week. I’m betting he’ll be asking about bringing Brent back, before long. Is there anything we can do? Because I agree, Warren is great, and I really don’t want to lose him.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Unless you can get one of your parents to call and change their position, we’re stuck. At least for 2 more years, when the contract switches to your name. It’s normally why we don’t sign young artists, because then we have multiple personalities to deal with, instead of just the artist we signed. After meeting your mother, I felt she had her head on straight and this would be okay. You’ve done great so far, and we have no complaints about your work ethic or how you’ve performed, but I do wish we would have known this dynamic was a possibility.”

That was the first time Kent, or anyone from the studio, had said anything that suggested they regretted signing me or that my contract may be in danger. I talked to Kent a lot over the last five months, and I felt I had a good handle on him, and was almost positive he was sending a message with that last comment. I didn’t blame him. This was their business. They weren’t a charity to help struggling artists, and while my numbers were good, they were not ‘dealing with prima donna parents’ good.

“I’ll take care of this Kent, I promise.”

“Here’s what I can do. I can slow down processing things on our end. Switching management requires official notification from them. Normally an email is enough, but I only had a phone call, and we need it in writing. I was so stunned, I didn’t think to point it out to him until after, and I decided to call you first. I can forget to call him back and wait until he asks why Warren is still assigned to you, and then slowly walk it through legal. That might be able to buy you a few weeks, if your dad isn’t too proactive. Though if he is, or when he realizes we haven’t followed through yet, my hands will be tied.”

Dad wasn’t normally proactive. I didn’t know if he’d started drinking again, but one of the reasons he’d lost his contract back in the day was because he was terrible at following up on his obligations. Dad may not have been the best songwriter, but he was a damn fine guitarist and, in the eighties, that was enough to make good money, if you had the contacts. Which for a time he did. The drinking came after, when he let his career fall to pieces because he wouldn’t do the little stuff.

Nothing since his return suggested to me that he’d gotten any better at it. He would figure it out eventually, but it would give me some time to figure out my next move.

“I’ll take it. I really will get this taken care of.”

“See that you do, Charlie. You’re a good kid. Don’t let this derail your success so far.” He hung up.

I sat for a long time, staring at my phone. Part of me was furious at Dad, but the rest of me was upset that I’d let it get this far. I should have seen this coming. The school thing was a clear warning sign, and I’d accepted just stopping him instead of considering what he would do next.

I knew the best thing I could do would be to call the people I had in my life who could help me. Chef, Mrs. Phillips, Mr. French, Rowan, and even Hanna. I’d told Mrs. Phillips and Hanna about all of the problems with Dad, but I’d stopped short of making it clear how dangerous my current situation was, in the career sense. As my friends, they were more concerned with my personal and mental well-being than thinking about how I could keep my career on track.

Chef had dealt with stuff like this before. Maybe not record contracts, but kids with parents causing problems. He was the one who found Dr. Rothstein and put me in contact with Mr. Eaves, who then got me the lawyers needed to get Kat away from her father. He was who I should have talked to, but I was so determined to do it myself, or maybe just so stupid, that I didn’t tell him how bad things were.

I should have gotten up and gone straight to the Blue Ridge. I didn’t have a car to drive up there, but he would have taken my call and talked to me, dinner rush or not. I knew that’s what I should do even as I stormed out of the back door and made my way down the incline to the creek that separated Hanna’s house from the trailer park.

I knew Dad was home, and I knew confronting him was exactly the wrong thing to do. It could prompt him to call Kent and make sure Warren was fired or, worse, I could yell at him until it ended in violence, which could also end everything. My contract was very clear on its morality clause, and if I ended up convicted of assault it was definitely a way out of the contract for them, if they decided they didn’t want to deal my problems.

I knew all that, as I hopped the creek. I also felt myself getting angrier and angrier. All I wanted to do was confront him, and I couldn’t stop myself. If I wasn’t so angry, I might even have considered the irony that the very impulse control problems that were leading me to this confrontation were the ones I’d inherited from my father that caused him to butt into my life, even after I begged him not to.

I still had a key and let myself in, all but breaking the door as I burst through it. Dad was in the big chair in the living area, watching TV.

“What the hell,” he said as he pushed himself up, only stopping when he realized it was me.

“What the hell is right,” I said, barely keeping myself from screaming. “You called the school and told them to un-enroll me, and now you’ve told the record label I don’t want Warren representing me anymore. Are you trying to destroy my life?”

“Calm down before you get yourself hurt,” he said, taking a few steps toward me. “I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to do, which is guiding you until you can make decisions of your own. You’re a kid, Charlie, and you don’t know how close you are to throwing your one chance away. Do you know how many people would kill to have what you have, especially with your first-week numbers? I would be a negligent parent if I let you turn down this chance so you can get some piece of paper from a podunk country high school. You want a high school diploma, I get that, but a GED is just as good. And Warren? He’s supposed to be out there fighting for you. Instead, he rolls over and says he’ll work around your schedule. I called him, and he said he’d already talked to you and was clear on what his priorities were. He wouldn’t even hear me out. Of course I had to go over his head. We’re your guardians and it’s his job to listen to us. I’ve read your contract and know what they’re required to do.”

I hadn’t realized he’d called Warren, which explained why I had heard from Kent but not him after the first week numbers were out. I’m sure he saw the danger signs as soon as Dad called him.

“You’re right, you do know about throwing chances away. You screwed up your career, I’m not going to let you screw up mine.”

“You better be careful,” he said, balling his fist and taking a step towards me.

“Or what, you’re going to bleed on the fridge again. You’re a screw-up and wouldn’t know the right move if I tattooed it on your fucking arm. You couldn’t even keep yourself out of prison, and you think you can sit here and lecture me on what I should or shouldn’t be doing? I only have one parent, and she isn’t here.”

“You son of a,” he said, lunging forward, arm sweeping out in a haymaker.

I saw it coming a mile away. Later, when I was less blinded by rage, I’d be able to admit that I’d pushed him to do this. I knew his temper and I knew how he’d react, and I pushed every single button until he swung at me, because I wanted to hurt him. Maybe not consciously, but it was there. It’s probably why I came here in the first place. I knew I’d never change his mind. I just wanted an excuse to hurt him.

I grabbed his wrist with my right hand, stepping back, clear of his punch, while I brought my left forearm crashing into his elbow as I pulled his arm. I held back just enough to keep from shattering the elbow as it snapped back, but I felt it pop out of the socket as the arm over-extended.

He crashed to the ground, screaming in pain, forced onto his back since I still had his arm, holding it so the dislocated elbow would hurt like hell. As soon as he was on his back, I started to drop down on him. I began to drop my knee, and all of my body weight, directly on his sternum, while bringing my fist down for a punch to his throat. Either move could have quite possibly killed him, which is why I froze in place, forcing my knee to strike the carpet next to him instead, with my fist inches from his neck.

I think he knew how close it had been, because his eyes got huge. It was his eyes that brought me to my senses, finally breaking past the fury and poor impulse control, making me realize what I’d done. I’d forced this entire situation and could have killed a man. This wasn’t what I wanted. Not even a record contract was worth this. He was stifling a scream, staring at me in horror as I got off of him and backpedaled into the kitchen.

We locked eyes for one moment before I turned and ran out the door.