Page 67 of Goode to Be Bad

Her voice was low,rough, pained. She wasn’t just singing this song; she’s baring herself through it. Lost in it. Just as hurt singing it as she was when she wrote it. Hers was not technically perfect voice, but it was a powerful one, mesmerizing for its quiet mystique. She wasn’t loud, in this song. The crowd was utterly silent, on the edge of their seats trying to hear.

The song ended, the notes faded into ether, and she went quiet, opened her eyes. Another stunned moment, and then the crowd was wild, emitting a wall of sound that went on and on.

I grinned at her. “I think they like you, Lexie.”

She smiled shyly. “Thanks, everyone.”

“How about another one?” I said.

She sighed. Hesitated. Held my gaze, as if debating something internally. “I, uh, I do have something. It’s recent, and, um, actually it’s about you.”

“Me?” I said, grinning. “Why Lex, I’m flattered.”

She laughed. “Don’t be too flattered until you hear it.”

I faked a shiver. “Uh-oh. Should I be scared? Is it a takedown piece?”

She shook her head, laughing at me. “Nah, nothing like that.” She wiggled on her seat, adjusted her tuning. “It’s called ‘The Ugliest Me’.”

The melody to this one was faster, higher, brighter, and showed off her finger work skills, and I stayed quiet, letting her show off. Which, honestly, she wasn’t trying to do, she was just playing the song. I kept my palm over the strings and watched her, let her have the spotlight, the moment, all to herself.

“I’m a faker, boy

A baker of lies

A maker of secrets

Master of disguise

I’m a mason, boy,

Builder of walls

Stacker of bricks

Thicker than skin

And harder than steel

Miles high and fathoms deep

Hiding what’s real

And all while you sleep

Restless and listless

Tired and wired

I lay in the bed beside you

And build all over again

The walls you got past a few minutes ago

You know my weakness

If only you knew how often I’m sleepless