A rose to grind

-37-

Selena's prologue.

If I had a penny for every time I had to bring up my sob story just to stand on a stage at a night bar, I'd probably have a jar of it, which wasn't a lot, but it was a considerable amount of the many times I had lowered my dignity and begged someone to let me perform.

I remembered my mother's words: a pathetic replacement who couldn't even fulfill their purpose for being born.

Like a broken radio and a never ending nightmare, the vicious curl of her lips as she uttered those damned words that broke my spirit forever repeated in my mind whenever I faced a rejection for my performance. I'd smile, like a pushover I was, pretending to no one in general about how calm I was. There wasn't even anyone around me to lie to about how I was alright, that I'd be fine, and that I'd be able to hear their superficial comfort that masked the irony of the merciless world.

Now, the reoccurring nightmares were worse upon hearing about Yugo's disappearance.

It was such a craven move of me—I knew—but, Yugo was the only one, the only person to have even treated me as though I were a person that could breathe, eat, sleep and have feelings just like him. Of course, he was still under the guise that I was my brother, but I couldn't forget his treatment towards me. There were obviously so many, many more talented and wealthier people that surrounded him, but Yugo's limpid gaze penetrated through that wall and peered straight at me.

It was like gazing into the eyes of a snake, but I willingly injected the poison into my own veins.

I persevered throughout the last years, hoping, wishing and longing for the day I'd meet him again, with a smile plastered on my face, a beautiful dress and an acoustic guitar. I'd then tell him that the person he had tutored during the academy was me, not my brother. Not Kai Veveran, the esteemed art prodigy, but the girl who dreamt of singing her heart out to the world until her lungs exhausted.

Crud... when did I become such a sap? I didn't even have the qualifications in my pathetic life to meet the requirements of being one. What wishful thinking.

When my rough fingertips left the strings of the guitar, the thin crowd ceased to applaud. I was used to this sort of boorish reaction, and bowed my head, mustering a bright smile as I walked off the stage. As soon as I reached the backdoor, the smile from previously vanished from my face. I slammed the door behind me as I lifted my guitar into the air, about to smash it against the wall when I heard a voice resonate behind me.

"Exceptional performance, Selena. You could be the reincarnation of Michael Jackson himself."

The owner of the voice was a handsome silver-haired man of a tall and fit stature, donning long, gray slacks that stopped right above his ankles. The top tree buttons of his shirt were loosened, letting the flaps of fabric reveal sharp clavicles beneath, deep enough to not even spill water if it were poured into them. He clapped his hands half-heartedly, smiling lightly and oozed an aura of seductive wildness that could turn heads in his radius.

"Michael Jackson is a pop singer, not an acoustic one," I hissed in return.

"Well, both of you sing well. No difference," he waved his hand dismissively, folding his arms across his chest as he maintained a wolffish smile.

"Where's your guard dog?" I prompted, subtly changing the subject. Upon my words, Domaine Wu shrugged his shoulders.

"Flirting with some other guy," Domaine didn't seem affected. He merely cocked his head against the wall and grinned. "He got upset the other day when I told him that I suspected that his colleague had a huge dick. He whined that day about how I only wanted him for his body. Now, he's trying to get back at me by flirting with my customers. Didn't you see him on stage glancing at the backdoor multiple times?"