are the light,
And I want to walk with you…
In your light.
“Well, at least you’ve stopped snoring,” Reille snarks. “So either you like her, or you’ve finally fallen asleep.”
Her voice jars me from my thoughts, sending a tiny jolt of surprise through me. My foot slips, smooth sole skidding off the ledge, and there’s a moment of reaching, flailing, trying to catch hold of anything I possibly can before I lose my balance and topple back. My head hits the floor in the space between one note and the next.
“Shit,” I mutter, though that doesn't begin to cover it.
Reille’s horrified, of course, and a little disgusted when she asks, “Are you all right?”
Not really. I think I might have a concussion, insofar as it’s possible for a vampire to bruise his brain.
“I’m fine .” Except I’m not. Finding my feet and my equilibrium takes several seconds longer that I would like, and by then, Miss What’s-Her-Face Something-Or-Other is well into the next torturous verse. She has her eyes closed, like she doesn’t care who’s watching her. A rainbow riot of hair tumbles over her shoulders, pale strands intertwined with pink and purple and blue and green and yellow, like she’s a kid who finally discovered Manic Panic. Ripped-up jeans, fluffy sweater, boring as fuck shoes, but that voice… that voice … echoes my own words back at me from another time, another place—
“Of course, now you’re paying attention,” Reille mutters. “Blonde. Stacked like a porn star. I should have guessed she’d be your type.”
“Then how’s about you scoot your ass down there and sign the Fuzzy Bunny, huh? Just think of it, today you get to play Fairy Godmother to her Cinderella and make all her dreams come true !”
I hit the smartass inflections, pushing Reille’s buttons, trying to set off that spitfire temper of hers. It works, too, because she turns pink, the way only a real redhead can. I can hear the rush of her blood in her veins, the surge as her heartbeat kicks up. Except she doesn’t look quite as pissed as expected. Clutching that clipboard of hers against her chest—probably to keep me from looking at her tits—she looks to the stage, her forehead scrunching up like she’s thinking really hard about something.
When she speaks again, there’s a halting quality to the words. “She’s not even the best of the bunch, Xaine. There’s a trio coming up—”
“If she’s not the best, then why did you waste my time with her?” By inches, I crowd Reille against the railing, stepping into her bubble of nonexistent personal space. “You screened a hundred acts, but she’s the shitty one you made me listen to?”
“No. I mean…” Reille glares at me for all she’s worth. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I know that I told you to hire someone and you immediately started arguing with me that there’s someone better. Which means you made me sit through a crap act. Which means you didn’t do your job.” Instead of raising my voice, I lower it until I’m certain she’s giving me every last speck of her attention. “Is that what happened? Did you drop the ball on this?”
Ass against the ledge, she pinches her mouth into a thin line. “No, I didn’t drop the ball.”
“So the Fuzzy Bunny is a perfect choice, isn’t she? Because I have impeccable fucking taste, don’t I, and it’s time I start giving back , right? So I’ll start with that little slice of farm-grown, completely organic, all-American apple pie.”
“If I sign her, you keep your distance,” Reille says, tilting her chin up like she’s allowed to make demands.
“How about we play the game where I’m the boss, and you’re the employee? The game where you do as I say, because I pay you to. The game where you get down there and sign her, or you pack your shit?” She flinches at that, a muscle twitching in her jaw as she averts her face, but I duck down, staring her right in her goddamn lies so I can
And I want to walk with you…
In your light.
“Well, at least you’ve stopped snoring,” Reille snarks. “So either you like her, or you’ve finally fallen asleep.”
Her voice jars me from my thoughts, sending a tiny jolt of surprise through me. My foot slips, smooth sole skidding off the ledge, and there’s a moment of reaching, flailing, trying to catch hold of anything I possibly can before I lose my balance and topple back. My head hits the floor in the space between one note and the next.
“Shit,” I mutter, though that doesn't begin to cover it.
Reille’s horrified, of course, and a little disgusted when she asks, “Are you all right?”
Not really. I think I might have a concussion, insofar as it’s possible for a vampire to bruise his brain.
“I’m fine .” Except I’m not. Finding my feet and my equilibrium takes several seconds longer that I would like, and by then, Miss What’s-Her-Face Something-Or-Other is well into the next torturous verse. She has her eyes closed, like she doesn’t care who’s watching her. A rainbow riot of hair tumbles over her shoulders, pale strands intertwined with pink and purple and blue and green and yellow, like she’s a kid who finally discovered Manic Panic. Ripped-up jeans, fluffy sweater, boring as fuck shoes, but that voice… that voice … echoes my own words back at me from another time, another place—
“Of course, now you’re paying attention,” Reille mutters. “Blonde. Stacked like a porn star. I should have guessed she’d be your type.”
“Then how’s about you scoot your ass down there and sign the Fuzzy Bunny, huh? Just think of it, today you get to play Fairy Godmother to her Cinderella and make all her dreams come true !”
I hit the smartass inflections, pushing Reille’s buttons, trying to set off that spitfire temper of hers. It works, too, because she turns pink, the way only a real redhead can. I can hear the rush of her blood in her veins, the surge as her heartbeat kicks up. Except she doesn’t look quite as pissed as expected. Clutching that clipboard of hers against her chest—probably to keep me from looking at her tits—she looks to the stage, her forehead scrunching up like she’s thinking really hard about something.
When she speaks again, there’s a halting quality to the words. “She’s not even the best of the bunch, Xaine. There’s a trio coming up—”
“If she’s not the best, then why did you waste my time with her?” By inches, I crowd Reille against the railing, stepping into her bubble of nonexistent personal space. “You screened a hundred acts, but she’s the shitty one you made me listen to?”
“No. I mean…” Reille glares at me for all she’s worth. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I know that I told you to hire someone and you immediately started arguing with me that there’s someone better. Which means you made me sit through a crap act. Which means you didn’t do your job.” Instead of raising my voice, I lower it until I’m certain she’s giving me every last speck of her attention. “Is that what happened? Did you drop the ball on this?”
Ass against the ledge, she pinches her mouth into a thin line. “No, I didn’t drop the ball.”
“So the Fuzzy Bunny is a perfect choice, isn’t she? Because I have impeccable fucking taste, don’t I, and it’s time I start giving back , right? So I’ll start with that little slice of farm-grown, completely organic, all-American apple pie.”
“If I sign her, you keep your distance,” Reille says, tilting her chin up like she’s allowed to make demands.
“How about we play the game where I’m the boss, and you’re the employee? The game where you do as I say, because I pay you to. The game where you get down there and sign her, or you pack your shit?” She flinches at that, a muscle twitching in her jaw as she averts her face, but I duck down, staring her right in her goddamn lies so I can
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