Free True for You by Marquita Valentine Page B

or Violet, or Callie, or
any other girl who’s been your muse in the past. They had a talent for it. I have nothing.”
    “Nothing
my ass.” Thinking she needs to take a look at what I’ve
written, I grab the notepad I’d scribbled the songs on. “Read
this. See what you inspire.”
    She
eyes the notepad like I’m trying to get her to touch a snake.
With a sigh, she finally takes it.
    “Go
on. Read it to me.”
    “Out
loud?”
    “Yeah,
if you read it, then I’ll be able to hear what I missed and fix
it.”
    “I’m
not sure—“
    I
grin. “But I am.”
    She
takes a deep breath, her brow scrunching. “Wha-ish-inguh.
Wishing.” She glances up at me, and then back at the notepad.
“Huh-ahpping, um, hopping for a guh-l-emp-s-e, um, glimpse?”
    A
strange feeling washes over me as she continues to read, some words
spoken quickly, but the majority sounded out like she’s never
read in English before. I know my writing is pretty bad, the normal
cursive and print mingling together to form chicken scratch, but how
she’s reading… it reminds me of my housekeeper’s
five-year-old son.
    I
take the notepad from her. Bliss meets my gaze, her cheeks pink.
“What did you think?” I ask, not wanting to embarrass her
further.
    “I think you
need to find a new muse, because this one can barely read,” she
says flatly, her chin tipping up, like she’s daring me to say
something incredibly insulting to her. Or she’s protecting
herself.
    Most
likely it’s both, because I have been cruel to her in the
not-so-distant past.
    I
close my eyes, and then open them. I’m such an incredibly
selfish asshole, confined to thinking of only my jealousy or my
needs. My desire to never be second again. “You didn’t
want a college education, did you?”
    She
gives me a sad smile, and it kicks me right in the gut. “I
wanted to learn how to read and do more than addition and
subtraction. I hoped in a year or two to get my high school diploma.
Cameron said that the program offered a real one, not just a GED.”
    “When’s
the last time you were in school, Bliss?” I dread her answer.
    “I
was sixteen. After my school records caught up with me, they stuck me
in a remedial class,” she said. “The teachers were nice,
but I kinda fell through the cracks. I was too quiet, and they were
too busy taking care of behavior problems, so I got left alone a
lot.”
    I knew people like
Bliss existed in this world, had done charities to help the poor and
the disadvantaged, but until now, I’d never met someone who’d
lived like her. At least Donna and her family had each other, and
death benefits to see them through.
    “What
happened after that?”
    “I
ran away from the Coreys.”
    I
swallow. Do I want to know why? Do I want the responsibility of
tracking down every asshole who ever hurt her and making their life
miserable?
    Her
lower lip trembles, and her hands tremble along with it. Oh hell
yes, I want that responsibility.
    “Where
did you go?”
    She
shrugs. “Away.”
    “Bliss.”
    “Cole
Morgan’s momma let me stay with them for a while, until my last
foster parents’ dealer came around looking for me. Then she
said I had to leave, because it wasn’t safe for any of us.”
She laughs, but it’s without humor. “Drug dealers hate it
when their clients don’t pay up, or when their payment doesn’t
stay put like a good girl.”
    Stay put like a good
girl? The sensation of bugs crawling over me light up my nerve
endings. “Is he still looking for you?”
    “He’s
in jail and so are my former foster parents. Their kids are in foster
care now,” she says. “I feel bad for their kids but
anything’s better than living in that trailer with parents like
those.”
    I’m
not sure what I’m supposed to say right now. Sorry doesn’t
cut it, and besides, it would sound trite. Meaningless. So I put us
on even ground instead.
    “After
I turned fourteen, Everett made me his new sparring partner in our
gym. Only he didn’t use