Luck of the Devil

By: Meghan March


I squint because I can’t remember if my plant is dead or alive. I haven’t watered it in as long as I can remember. Apparently I’m thinking too hard about plants, which might be alive or dead, and not concentrating on my balance because I tip forward.

Mick catches me with an outstretched palm. “Come on, honey. We’re putting you up tonight. Won’t hear anything different.”

He turns me around and marches me toward the door that leads into the sprawling mansion. “Besides, it seems like someone needs to take you under their wing so you don’t get chewed up and spit out by this bitch of an industry. My wife isn’t exactly the type to bring home strays, so she must’ve seen something in you needing a little protection. We’re gonna make sure you have it.”

My eyes burn, and I blink back the unexpected tears. I’ve been in this town for six months, essentially friendless, and in one night I’ve apparently been adopted by two people I never thought I would ever have a chance to meet.

“G’night, Holly. I’ll see you in the morning, sweets,” Tana calls from behind me.

Apart from those blissful moments standing onstage, for the first time in months I have a genuine smile on my face, and I feel like I belong somewhere.

It doesn’t last long.


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