I woke up in his arms, surrounded by his scent. Music played in my head. The finished product of one of the many songs that I had started writing, one that I had transcribed into my laptop.

A shudder of creativity bounced through my body, driving me out of bed. His arms twitched slightly as I rolled from between them and I almost stopped. One more lovemaking session couldn’t hurt, right?

But I had been putting off my work for far too long. Even if I wasn’t really working for a paycheck anymore, I still had responsibilities; to my fans, to my label, and to myself. I blew my sleeping lover a silent kiss as I made my way out of the room, dressed in his T-shirt and my own blocky boy-short underwear.

The house was filled with a tangerine haze in the humid dawn—the most inspiring color, the most inspiring time of day. I hit the button on the coffee maker, then, with a giggle, I turned it off again. I had been far too distracted the night before to prep the machine. The memory of his tender attention made me sigh, and I danced around the kitchen as I gathered the coffee things.

Lyrics bubbled through my brain, percolating as the coffee did. A beam of clear light sliced through the kitchen, highlighting the edges of everything, making it look like an illustration. Even the world was feeling creative today, I realized with a grin.

My laptop sat on the kitchen table, waiting for me. It seemed to almost pulse with pent-up energy, eager to get started. I carried my steaming mug to the table and offered the laptop a gentle caress.

“All right, my friend,” I cooed at it. “Ready to make some magic?”

Red polish glistened on my thumbnail as I flipped the lock and pushed the laptop open. It wasn’t what I was expecting to see, and it took me far too long to register what I was actually looking at.

“Who was watching porn on my computer?” I wondered out loud.

There was only one answer, really.

Curious to find out what Tyler was into, I pushed play on the frozen video, my heart pounding frantically as if I were doing something terribly wrong. The way the woman moved as she pleasured the man with her mouth was hot, and I found myself regretting rolling out of bed before letting him ravage me again. The man’s arm swung into the frame, gripping the back of her head. Those tattoos. I knew those tattoos.

My mouth went dry and I skipped the video forward. There was no mistaking it. That was me, presenting to him like some sex-starved baboon. My face went hot and barbed tears filled my eyes. Impulsively, I went back to the start of the tape. It started all the way back on the stairs.

“Security,” I spat bitterly, wiping tears from my face. “Security, my ass.”

I deleted the file, and the parent files that popped up as that one closed. Shaking with rage, I combed his computer for any traces of the video, and deleted the link to the cameras so he couldn’t access the rest of them. There was so much material stored on those cameras, so much that he could use to destroy me.

“And make a buck in the process,” I realized, the words tasting like vomit on my tongue.

The baseball bat I kept propped by the back door caught my eye.

“Let’s go, diva.”

I grabbed it, looking around the kitchen. There, just behind the pot of succulents by the windowsill, was a camera. I smashed it to pieces, and the crash fueled my fury. I found and eliminated one in the piano room, then destroyed the one I had watched him install above the stairs. Dragging the bat behind me like someone out of a horror movie, I crept into my bedroom.

I remembered the angle. I’d had enough videos shot to know where the camera would have had to be, and I found it. My stomach turned over as I pushed my little purple elephant aside, separating it from its blue gingham counterpart. Their coupling was tainted by the black intruder, squatting with its wide eye pointed at my bed.

“Tyler!” I shouted as I swung the bat, bringing it down hard on the little box.

“’S’matter?” He tumbled out of bed, tangled in the sheets, his bleary eyes clearing quickly as he scanned the room.

“Get out.”

“What’s wrong? Intruder? Are you hurt?”

“Shut up. You’re fired. Get gone.”

My chest was heaving, sucking in fiery breaths, breasts pressing against the soft fabric of his T-shirt. The same feeling that had been so comforting mere minutes ago was oppressive now, and I couldn’t bear it. Dropping the bat, I ripped the shirt off.

“Oh… New role play?” he asked, confusion giving way to anticipation.

“No!” I threw the shirt at him, then stormed to my closet to pull a dress on over my head. “Get out, Tyler. Don’t ever let me see you again. You have ten minutes, then I call the cops. Or maybe I won’t; maybe I’ll just beat the hell out of you myself.”

“Paisley, what the…?”

“Did I stutter?” I whirled on him, eyes blazing.

I watched him look from me to the bat, then to the shattered bits of camera on the dresser. Understanding spread across his face and he paled, caught in his lies.

“Wait, I don’t think you…”

“You gonna tell me it’s not what it looks like? ‘It was just for you, okay maybe not just for you, but Paisley, baby, you don’t understand what it’s like for the rest of us, money actually means something, we can’t just sit down and play around on the keys and make a bunch of money, we have to actually work, and don’t worry it’s going to be best for the both of us, just think how you’ll blow up afterward!’ Save it, Tyler, I’ve heard it all. Get your shit. Get the hell out of my house.”

Tyler’s mouth had fallen open as I ranted. It snapped shut, his jaw bulging with tight muscles. I watched the shields fall over his eyes as he straightened his posture. Stiffly, he turned and walked out of my room, stark naked. He was ready to go in six minutes. I met him by the front door.

“Here,” I spat, shoving his laptop at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t smash this too.”

“Thanks,” he said through gritted teeth. “Paisley, I…”

“Bye.”

I shoved him through the door and slammed it in his face. I watched him from the window as he climbed into his beat-up sedan, his face a dark cloud.

“Didn’t work out the way you wanted it to, did it? Onto the next! Who cares about the hearts left behind? Collateral damage, right?” The venom slowly seeped out of my voice as he circled the driveway. By the time his taillights disappeared down the street, I was in tears.

Stumbling to the piano like a zombie, I used it the way I had when I was a kid—as a catch-all for my overflowing emotions.

Just like all the rest. Tender hands on my body, warm eyes in my soul, swim in my open pool; love me, I’m the fool. Music and lyrics flowed together, fully formed.

I opened my laptop, which was sitting on the piano, right where I’d left it. Shaking my head at myself, I started it recording. I wasn’t about to waste this opportunity. This was exactly the rawness I needed.

I sort of hated myself for thinking that way, but it didn’t matter. After a moment, it was like the laptop wasn’t even there. Music poured out of my soul, verses and chorus, chords and rhythms, howling my pain into the ether. Better than a good cry, and ten times as draining. I sat there all day, until my wrists cramped, until my butt went dead, vomiting my broken heart onto the keys.

By time I had to get up and stretch, the sun was on its way down. I had enough material saved for three songs at least, possibly more. I wasn’t going to think about that right then, though; that was too much like work. I just wanted to play.

I cast a glance over at the wicker chair and ottoman which had held Tyler’s glorious body as he’d listened to me play. The memory was tainted, my numb mind wondering if he’d recorded that as well.

“Leaking my music as we speak, probably,” I murmured absently. “Go ahead, Tyler. Make a buzz about the music. Just leave the rest of me alone.” Forever.

Exhausted from the emotional purge, I drank something and ate a little, then trudged upstairs to bed. I didn’t bother getting undressed or changing into pajamas.

Poster child for heartbreak, I crawled fully dressed between my sheets. His scent clung to them, and I inadvertently breathed it in. Instantly, I fell apart. Like a lost and broken child, I sobbed myself to sleep.