Free Girl With Guitar by Caisey Quinn

she was used to hearing him use with his manager.
    Forcing herself not to look up when he came towards her and yanked the cabinet doors open, she fought hard to overcome the nauseating waves of dread rolling over her.
    “What the hell?” Trace didn’t acknowledge her, but he whirled on Pauly like a man possessed. “I swear to God, if you emptied my liquor cabinet, your ass is fired.”
    Kylie’s head snapped up and she watched as Pauly held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. Trace was closing the distance between them. She recognized the beginning of a physical confrontation when she saw one. Apparently so did Trace’s manager, who began backing up as quickly as Trace was approaching.
    She couldn’t let Trace fire his manager. Pauly was most likely the only reason he still had a career at all. Sliding out of the booth, she steeled herself for the full force of the fiery rage about to be heading her way. “Pauly didn’t empty your cabinet. I did.” Her voice sounded a whole lot stronger than she felt.
    Confusion contorted Trace’s features as he turned to face her. “That’s real cute, Ryans. Where’d you hide it?”
    Biting her lip, she realized he and Pauly were blocking the only exit. Her heart sped and a cold clammy sheen of sweat covered her. “I didn’t hide it. I poured it down the sink.”
    Trace’s eyes went wide. And then anger darkened his entire presence. She didn’t know what Pauly was doing because she couldn’t see past the man advancing on her. “Tell me you’re joking. Tell me now.” Trace’s low growl was enough to break her resolve.
    “I would say I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But I’m not.”
    Rage radiated off him. Nostrils flaring and chest heaving in and out, he backed her against the booth. “Is this because I didn’t fuck you?”
    Kylie’s face began tingling and she lost all feeling in her legs. This must be what it feels like to go into shock . “No. It’s not. And you’re an asshole for bringing that up and you know it.” Kylie lifted her chin and bit the hell out of her bottom lip so it wouldn’t quiver. “I did it because you have a drinking problem. And because no one else would.”
    “Listen to me.” Trace punctuated each word with a heavy breath. “You and me, we’re nothing.” He waved a finger between the two of them. “Whatever you’ve built this up to be in your pretty blond head, that’s all it is. In your head.”
    The truth hurt, even though she’d known it all along, but she swallowed the pain and squared her shoulders. “Okay. Now you listen to me,” she began, taking a step forward and forcing him to back up out of her personal space. “I thought I’d made myself clear. I don’t want a single thing from you. Hell, I don’t even like you. But for right now, and for the next few weeks, I need you to be sober and not ruin the rest of this tour like you seem to be dead set on doing. If I so much as get a whiff of liquor on your breath on the day of a show, I will go straight crazy-ex-girlfriend-psycho-bitch on your ass. And I will dump any and all liquor I find on this bus.”
    “The hell you will,” he threatened, pressing back into her space. Kylie glanced around him for some assistance, but Pauly was nowhere to be seen. Great.
    “And what are you going to do about it? Have me kicked off the tour? I’m sure the label would side with me since they’re not interested in paying for any more of your no-shows. When this tour ends, you can drink yourself right out of your career for all I care.”
    “Who the fuck do you think—”
    “Trace, that’s enough. She has to be on stage in five minutes.” A soothing male voice broke through the tension and cut him off. Pauly and a guy named Danny from Trace’s band stood at the front of the bus. Kylie breathed a sigh of relief. She leaned to the right and darted around him but his hand struck out and gripped her arm, pulling her back in his direction.
    “Trace,” she whimpered,