Bach

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“It was the right thing to do.”

Violet had said that five times now.

She'd be less comforting if she knew the full extent of what I'd done. I hadn't told her, though. Not yet. There'd be time for her to learn. Sherman had been amicable to my terms—he was happy to take Violet on, give her a good job with a pay raise. I hoped it would be enough to keep her from hating me too much.

Maybe I had to go back to not caring about if people hated me. I hadn't given a shit about anyone or anything for most of my existence. When had that changed?

Violet flipped through her phone as she spoke. “I prepped Sally and Chianne as fast as possible. The award board wasn't happy with the last-minute entries, but... well, I guess they've been pretty excited to see what Beats and Blast will do this year.”

I knew why they were excited. And that reason was no longer here to amaze them.

She's free.

It had killed me to write Amina's letter. It was worse that she hadn't spoken to me since the other night. I'd made her cry. ME, of all people. Fuck... that was the worst.

“I wish I could have said bye to her,” Violet mumbled. “I guess it's not that shocking she'd pack up and leave without a word. I wonder—”

“Please,” I sighed. “Stop talking about her.”

“Sorry.” She looked at me from the corner of one eye. I waited for her to say more, but she respected my wish and buttoned up.

I really didn't want to talk about how I, too, had wanted a proper goodbye. I was a coward, putting the responsibility in Farrah's hands to deliver the news. And she didn't even know what was in that envelope she'd handed off yesterday.

The only ones who knew were me, Amina, her aunt's lawyer, and...

“Bach, I'm surprised to see you here,” Sherman said. He was standing beside me in the aisle, his bright blue and gold suit made more garish by the red carpet. He hadn't looked so damn happy in years. I hated being the reason.

Violet leaned around me, glaring at him. “Excuse me? Why wouldn't we be here?”

I squeezed the arms of my chair to keep myself sitting still. Sherman's smile inched lower, until he wasn't feigning surprise. “You have no one on your roster anymore. Unless you're here to enjoy the show for purely recreational reasons?”

A cold, wretched understanding crossed my former VP's face. “Bach,” Violet whispered, her eyes straining as she searched mine. “What did you do?”

“You didn't tell her yet?” Sherman asked.

I'd been bracing myself for this since yesterday morning. It allowed me to keep my tone emotionless. “I did what I had to.”

“You asshole!” she shouted. My cheek burned from her open-palm slap. Gritting her teeth, Violet stormed off into the crowd of gawking onlookers. Let them stare—I deserved to be shamed like this.

Sherman looked down his nose at me. “Why didn't you warn her?”

I glared up at him, my lips twisting in a snarl. “Fuck you.”

“Eloquent as ever. Well, enjoy the show. I sure will.” Done gloating, he walked down the aisle. I didn't look to see where he sat, I didn't give a shit. None of this mattered anymore.

Why am I even here?

The question burned in my gut until I couldn't ignore it. I distantly heard the stage hands announcing the first acts, the lights overhead shifting in colors to suit each song. None of it reached me. I could have been at the bottom of the ocean.

“...Come along, hollow bones. Stay strong enough to keep me up.”

The thick misery in my head was cracked open.

That's my song.

I stared because this couldn't be real.

Amina was on the stage.

“Hollow bones aren’t so bad. It’s a hollow heart that’s rough...” She was wearing the same glittery purple dress from the gala. As she swayed under the lights, she looked like a living firework. If anyone tried to touch her, they'd be burned by a sparkling energy too pure to be contained.

That was probably why she sang for as long as she did—people were too shocked to stop the girl who'd barged onto the stage without being announced. “And I'm sorry that I'm empty. I'm sorry there's nothing here,” she crooned. “But hollow bones are what let me fly... they help me escape the fear. And I—” Someone had cut the mic. She kept singing anyway, her voice so clear and powerful it rose above the surprised shouts. “I'm sorry I want to go! I'm sorry you're so low! If you fill my hollow heart... I won't go, I can't go.”

The determination in her beautiful face gave me strength. It demanded I run to her. “Amina!” I roared, trying to get through the massive crowd that had formed in the aisle. People were cheering, others blocking the way as they took photos. Security was rushing the stage; I couldn't get to her.

I needed to get to her.

“Amina! Amina!” I yelled her name so loud that I was sure Heaven would hear me. She turned her head—had it worked? Did my voice reach her ears?

Then multiple security guards collapsed on her.

Shoving my way forward, I fought with all my might to get to the stage. My throat was raw from screaming; I don't know what I was yelling anymore. The world was pandemonium.

Grunting, I pushed the last of the people who dared to block my path aside. I'd done it—I was at the stage! PA's rushed around, clearing things away, chatting in their headsets.

There were so many people cluttering the stage. Not a single one of them was her.

Amina was gone.