My UnTrue Love (A Kinda Fairytale #7)

Chapter One

One night when it was very late,

And the Dark Moon rose,

A coyote sought to change his fate,

Down at the old crossroads.

Lyrics from the folk song “Crossroads Coyote”

Johnny Jacobs leaned forward in his chair, his handsome face reflecting nothing but compassion. "I want to collaborate with other people.”

Clementine Miner stared at him. “What?”

“Obviously we’ve been a great team. Everybody knows it.” He splayed a hand over his heart. “Since high school, it’s been Johnny and Clementine. We’re roommates, we work together, we’re best friends…” He trailed off, driving home the monotony of their relationship. “It’s too much.”

Green eyes blinked rapidly, as Clementine tried to process his words.

“We’re stifling our own growth, ya know? We need to break out of our rut.” Johnny went on. “And Rosalee has all these ideas for the album. I’m so excited for that, as lead singer. Something fresh. Something sophisticated. You get that, right?”

Clementine said nothing.

Johnny understood it would take a second for her to adjust. The two of them had founded The Yellow Roses together. The band had been their dream. And now, after years of hard work and sacrifice, it had finally come true.

At least for Johnny.

Clem had contributed to their success, at first. She was his muse. Literally. The girl had been born to inspire creative types. Her magic was subtle. She didn’t even consciously control it. It just ran quietly in the background, adding a bit of flow and sparkle to a composition.

All that was great. …For guys who needed the help. For a talented musician like Johnny, a muse quickly became superfluous, though.

Clementine had done what she could for the band. She’d drummed up gig after gig when they were just starting. She’d cashed in the insurance settlement from her parents’ deaths to afford their first recording equipment. (It wasn’t great equipment, but Johnny had made do.) She’d overseen all their promotion and spent hours on the phone developing contacts. She’d made sure all the day-to-day stuff was handled, so Johnny could write hit songs.

Once they established themselves as an up-and-coming band, Johnny had insisted they hire a professional manager, obviously. Rosalee Tawny would be the one who really elevated them to the big time of the Red River Valley country music scene. She was a legend in the business.

However, Rosalee had a thing about muses. She didn’t feel like they really added to the band. And she wasn’t wrong, you know? What did Clementine really do for Johnny?

Johnny took care of the music. Rosalee could handle the business stuff. Clementine couldn’t even play an instrument. Where did she fit?

Her health wasn’t that great, either. Clem had nearly died in the mining accident that had killed her parents. She’d been trapped for a few days underground and it affected her. She was scared of the dark, which was just childish.

Worse, there had been some kind of weird problem with the medical-spell that saved her damaged lungs. A very rare magic complication, the doctors said. Nothing could reverse the issue, but it was treatable, so long as Clem took pills every day, watched her salt intake, and avoided stress. Too much stress and she’d faint dead away for hours.

The music business was all about stress. Clem wasn’t up for the job of helping him create art, if she was so fragile. Every time he sent her for coffee, she might keel over. That kind of guilt wasn’t healthy for Johnny.

Having her around was a drain on his creative energy. A muse was supposed to inspire, not weigh you down. It was time for a change. Everybody knew it.

“I mean, you want to grow, too, right?” He gave an encouraging nod. “Staying here isn’t going to help you do that.”

“You’re… firing me?”

“No! Of course not.” Johnny shook his head indulgently. “I’m just pushing you out of the nest. Both of us have to spread our wings.”

Clementine’s eyes were huge behind her big, round glasses. She was such an awkward little thing. That was another problem. She was cute enough, don’t get him wrong. In fact, there had been a moment where they’d been childhood sweethearts. Holding hands and first kisses. Then, Johnny had lost weight, learned to style his ebony hair, and invested in some much-needed orthodontics work.

He’d surpassed Clementine.

Johnny cared for Clem, but The Yellow Roses had to keep up a certain appearance around Red River Valley and she just couldn’t cut it.

Muses were a little bit… trashy.

Not that Clem was trashy. Not really. She didn’t pay much attention to men, outside of work. Johnny adored that about her. She wasn’t like so many of those cheap sluts who hung around music stars, trading their bodies for a brush with fame. Nope. Clem was the sweetest little rosebud a fella ever knew. It wasn’t her fault her breasts were too voluptuous, and her wild blonde curls always seem tousled from bed. Johnny would be the first one to say she was Good and innocent.

But she looked trashy. That was all he meant. In an old movie, Clem would be cast as the dim-bulb tramp, who the hero leaves behind when he finally meets his elegant leading lady.

Johnny needed a leading lady.

Clementine’s affinity for artsy, gingham-patterned skirts wasn’t going to land The Yellow Roses on any up-market magazine covers. Not like Rosalee’s fashionable beauty would. Even Pecos Bill had been interested in Rosalee when she was first hired. But, obviously, she’d preferred Johnny. No surprise.

It was kind of a surprise that Clementine was still sitting there silently, though.

Instead of nodding in understanding, which would make this easier on everyone, she had a glazed-over expression on her face. She looked like she was about to cry. He hoped she didn’t. It would be awkward.

Quiet descended over the studio, as she simply didn’t leave. Johnny checked the clock on the wall, wondering how long this would take. Rosalee was due in about fifteen minutes and they had a lot of new material to cover.

“But… this is my band, too.” Clementine finally told him, her voice sounding odd.

“My name is on all the contracts.” Clem really shouldn’t be in this business at all, if she didn’t understand how the music industry worked. Johnny had been generous to carry her for so long. “I am The Yellow Roses. Everyone else is replaceable.”

Johnny hadn’t even bothered to clear Clementine’s departure with the rest of the band members, because why should he? His decision was all that mattered.

Susannah Alabama had her bass banjo resting on her knee. She exchanged a cautious look with Bowleg Bob, who played the catfish drums. He lifted his skinny shoulder in a “what can we do?” sort of shrug. Those two members of The Yellow Roses had been around Red River Valley a long time. They knew the score.

Johnny half-expected the asshole guitarist to protest. The coyote-shifter favored Clementine to an annoying degree. Instead, Pecos Bill stayed still, watching Johnny and the other band members with hard blue eyes.

“Clem, I’m sorry.” Johnny tried. “But I gotta do what’s best for The Yellow Roses. That means you have to go.”

After an uncomfortably long time, Clementine nodded. “Alright.” She said in a distant tone.

Johnny was glad she didn’t create a big scene. She wasn’t very assertive, which was always a nice quality in a girl. Clem was cooperative, sweet, and optimistic. A real team player. She’d bounce back.

Clementine got to her feet and picked up her patchwork purse. She really should buy a better handbag. That one reminded Johnny of an arts-and-crafts project.

Across the studio, Pecos Bill moved, too. It was like Clementine’s decision to leave was what he’d been waiting for. For no reason at all, he started packing up his guitar. Loudly.

Clementine jolted and tore her gaze from Johnny to look Bill’s way. She turned towards Bill too much. That was another issue. Johnny was the star, but Clem spent more and more of her time listening to the damn coyote play.

“Bill?” Johnny called in annoyance. “We need to get started. No time for a break.”

Bill still didn’t say anything. He rarely said anything. Most days, he just meandered in, his cowboy hat pulled low over his strange eyes and an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He’d walk over to his corner of the room, tuning his guitar just so, while Clementine and Johnny worked out the details of whatever song they were recording.

Usually, they didn’t have to bring Bill up to speed on the decisions they’d made. He’d somehow guess what they’d agreed to, like he knew the only possible way the song could sound. Johnny couldn’t understand how the man did that, but it was annoyingly presumptuous.

Bill wasn’t a true creative. He simply played what he was told to play. Still, his technical skills were undeniable, so Johnny tolerated Bill. For now. They could always replace him on the third album.

Johnny squinted, as Bill ignored his instructions to stay still and casually shrugged on his denim jacket. “Where are you going?”

Bill picked up his guitar case. “If Clem’s not here, I’m sure not stayin’.”

Clementine’s lips parted in amazement.

Johnny was even more shocked. “You can’t just leave .”

Bill snorted as if that was a stupid thing to say and headed for the door.

“You can’t go.” Johnny said again. “It’ll take days to replace you and Rosalee’s drawn up a tight schedule.”

“Replace Bill? ” Clementine repeated, like the very idea was insane. She shook off her astonishment over being fired. (Not that Johnny had really fired her. They were just taking some time apart to grow. He still valued her so much.) “Johnny, you cannot replace Bill. It’s literally impossible. He’s the best musician in all of Red River Valley.”

Johnny gaped at her, struck dumb by that ludicrous claim.

Bill glanced Clementine’s way, the edges of his mouth curving upward.

“You be quiet.” She jabbed a finger at him, even though he hadn’t said anything. She seemed to channel all her limited assertiveness into protecting her pet project. “I’m trying to save your job.”

“Don’t bother.”

Johnny wondered if she’d lost her mind. Clem doted on the cowboy, but what the hell was she talking about? Pecos Bill wasn’t anything special. He was a bit older than Johnny and Clementine, with a shadowy background and watchful blue eyes.

Eerie, luminous coyote-blue.

The man’s species had immediately put Johnny on guard against him. He wasn’t prejudiced against non-humans. Not at all. But still… you’d have to be crazy to trust a coyote. Everybody knew it. He would simply never understand Clementine’s gushing enthusiasm for the shifter’s talents.

Bill had shown up ten months before, when they were looking for a guitar player, and Clem had instantly taken a shine to him. He’d strummed the guitar three times, before she’d hired him. Exactly three goddamn times. Johnny recalled it with perfect clarity, because it still pissed him off to remember how she’d jumped the gun and saddled the band with such a nobody.

They’d had a whole group of skilled guitar players with great resumes wanting to try out for The Yellow Roses. Professional musicians with carefully screened resumes. Bill, meanwhile, was some random drifter passing the live-long day. He’d been sitting on the railing outside of the rehearsal space they’d rented, fiddling with his guitar. He hadn’t been there to audition. No one had ever heard of him before.

But Clementine’s face had whipped around at the first chord he’d nonchalantly played. On the second, her lips had parted in amazement. On the third, she’d pointed right at him. “Him!” She’d cried. “He’s the one.”

Everyone had looked Bill’s way.

The cowboy’s head had snapped up, russet-colored hair falling over his face and his expression wary. Probably he’d thought he was being accused of a crime. Then, his gaze had fallen on Clementine’s huge smile… and he’d blinked.

“You’ll join, won’t you?” Her eyes had been alight with enthusiasm behind her big glasses.

Three beats of total silence as Bill stared at her. Then, he’d nodded, the motion jerky and slightly dazed.

Clementine had beamed at his agreement. “Wonderful!”

Bill had kept on staring.

Clementine hadn’t noticed the man’s lack of social skills. She could be so oblivious to reality, living in her ditzy muse bubble. She had glanced up at Johnny and clapped her hands together. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

He’d rolled his eyes. “Sure. Wonderful.” He’d been pissed, but he’d still slung a proprietary arm around her shoulder. It had been instinctive.

Bill’s gaze had flicked to him and narrowed slightly.

Johnny had glowered back, letting him know who was in charge.

Bill’s expression hadn’t changed, but Johnny swore he could detect a smirk somehow. The man’s attention had glided back to Clementine and that momentary impression faded. “So, what’d I just join?”

Clementine had laughed. “Our band, of course.”

“Huh.” Bill had stood up, not sounding terribly interested in his new musical career. “Alright, then.”

His voice had the rusty sound of a person not used to talking. Something about the rumbling cadence of it had made Johnny’s ears perk up, though. Like they always did when some hot new artist came on the scene and you just knew he could sing his ass off. His dislike of the coyote intensified.

“Do you sing?” Johnny had demanded, ready to put his foot down and preemptively fire him, if the coyote thought he was getting near a microphone.

“Nope.” Bill’s eyes had remained on Clem. “But I’ll play any instrument she wants.”

After that, he was just always there . Johnny couldn’t think of a reason to get rid of Bill, so he’d been stuck with the guy. It wasn’t like Bill was a terrible addition to the band. He showed up on time. Did his part. Never showboated or complained. Didn’t try to sing. Barely even spoke.

Sometimes, though, he’d look at Johnny with an invisible smirk, just like he had that first day. Like he thought the whole band was a joke. Like he could somehow see the dorky kid Johnny had once been, with the weird name and acne. Like he was silently plotting to take away Johnny’s bright future.

Johnny was outgoing. Friendly. Charming. He got along with everybody. …But he hated that dirty coyote.

Bill was talented enough on the guitar. Johnny could rise above his dislike of the man and concede that much. He could indeed play other instruments too, without even much practice. He just had a knack for them. However, it was ludicrous for Clementine to claim he was the best musician in Red River Valley. Johnny lived there, too! Bill couldn’t compare to his talent and everybody knew it.

Everybody except Clementine.

Anger began to boil. They’d founded The Yellow Roses together. Gone to fucking prom together! She’d been his muse for years. You’d think that would engender some loyalty, but no . She honestly thought that damn coyote was a better musician than Johnny.

Clementine took a step closer to him, uncharacteristic anger flushing her cheeks. Anger that her precious hobo guitar player wasn’t being coddled enough. “Bill makes your songs hits.” She whispered fiercely. She rarely fought about anything, but she’d apparently go to the mat for that washed-up cowpoke. “He adds so much to your music. Do you really not see that?”

“ I make the songs hits.” Johnny shot back. “That’s what everybody sees. Without me headlining, the best Bill could ever hope for is an occasional show at The Kitchen. Someplace fit for a has-been and never-was.”

Clementine shot him a frustrated look. “That is a lousy thing to say.” She moved to intercept Bill, as he casually strolled for the exit. “Don’t do this, Bill.” She laid a beseeching palm on his arm. “I appreciate it, but you are going to hurt your career, if you leave this band.”

Bill glanced down at her fingers touching his sleeve and then he looked at her face. “Band’s done.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice as he delivered that verdict. It was loud and clear to everyone in the studio. “Johnny’s got no music in him without you.”

The drummer and bass banjo player seemed even more disconcerted.

Fury moved through Johnny. No music in him?! He was goddamn music! “Get out!” He shouted at Bill. “I never wanted to hire you to begin with. Who would want a coyote hanging around? All of your kind are thieves. I’m lucky you didn’t walk off with every valuable thing I own!”

Bill’s creepy blue eyes flicked his way and he slowly smiled.

It was never Good news when you saw a coyote smile. The things that amused them probably wouldn’t please you half so much. They were a breed of misfits and loners, feeding off the scraps of Good men.

Unlike most species, coyotes didn’t even have True Loves. According to legend, they’d been cursed to always be alone. If they wanted a mate, they had to abscond with somebody else’s woman. Coyotes sighted on a vulnerable female, scheming, and circling, and luring her away. Claiming what was never meant to be theirs. Robbing her from the guy she really belonged to.

Stealing his happily ever after.

Johnny wasn’t sure why he suddenly thought of that, except the smug flash of Bill’s too-white teeth sent a chill through him.

“That kind of bigotry is completely beneath you, Johnny.” Clementine seemed outraged by his opinion on coyotes. “You owe Bill an apology.”

Bill’s gaze stayed fixed on Johnny and there was a taunting glint in it now. He raised both eyebrows, like he was waiting.

Shit.

Johnny didn’t want it getting around that he was prejudiced against coyotes, because he wasn’t prejudiced against anyone. Not at all . There were just some indisputable facts about those thieving bastards that everybody knew. Was it bigoted to recognize the truth?

Whatever.

Johnny drew in a deep breath and thought of his career. “I didn’t mean it that way, Bill. You know I didn’t. Emotions are just high.”

Bill snorted, disregarding the olive branch. That asshole probably didn’t even have emotions. He was just a background player. His only purpose was to support the real artists.

Clementine wasn’t done complaining at Johnny. “Bill was a huge part of the last album’s success. Firing him is a mistake.”

Bill absently adjusted the collar of his jacket. “He’s not firing me. I’m quittin’.”

“You heard him. He’s quitting.” Johnny waved a hand at Bill, ignoring the rest of Clem’s nonsense. The woman was out of her mind. “Let him go back to being a vagrant.”

Clementine’s lips thinned, fully prepared to argue this out for hours.

Bill leaned down and whispered something into her ear.

Whatever it was, it caused Clementine to stop short. She turned to look up at him in surprise.

Bill stared back at her.

Clementine’s forehead creased, like they were having an in-depth conversation and she was considering the nuances of his argument.

It bugged Johnny that they could talk without talking. Like they had some kind of connection. If Clem had a connection with anyone, it was Johnny . They were best friends!

Yes, transitioning her out of the band would be rough on her at first, but it was just business. Clem wasn’t one to hold a grudge. If Johnny ever needed her, she was sure to be there. They had such a great relationship. Nothing could break it.

For now, Johnny knew he had to be the bigger man. Susannah Alabama and Bowleg Bob had to see that things were under control and that he was in charge. Too often, they looked to Clementine for guidance, when it was clearly his job. This reshuffling would help clarify that for everyone.

“Best of luck, Bill.” He said loudly, hoping to prod the man’s exit along. He offered an approximation of a professional smile. “We’ve both said some things that I’m sure we regret, but there’s no hard feelings. I know you feel the same.”

Bill ignored that and strolled out the door.

Clementine frowned after him.

Johnny had had enough. He’d been super-understanding, but Rosalee would be there soon and they needed to get to work. The work always came first.

“You’ll be okay with all this, Clem, once you get a chance to really think about it. You know how much I admire your ear for tunes. And we can still do stuff together. Just not this, anymore.”

She studied him for a minute. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, she shook her head. Without saying another word, she went after Bill, grabbing her coat on the way out.

She was upset now, but she’d get over it. Time would smooth over any hurt feelings and things would be back to normal soon. Johnny was the center of Clementine’s world. The girl practically worshipped him! Nothing would ever change that.

Johnny turned back to the rest of the band. “Well, that was easy enough.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s make some music!”