Songbird Read Online Free Page B

wiped at the line of dribble from my mouth and looked around. I was still at the computer, the horrible articles were still on the screen. Beside the keyboard was a bottle of vodka.
    Memories of the night before started flooding back to me. The comments about my eating from Sierra, doing the backdoor shuffle out of the restaurant, coming home to an empty house, not sleeping, looking up the articles, realizing I was a failure, and then reaching for the vodka in the bottom draw of my desk. It wasn’t a pretty montage in my mind.
    “What are you doing?” Demi demanded, taking a look at the computer screen. She quickly snapped it shut. “You know you can’t read that trash. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
    “They said I’m going to fail.”
    “And what do they know?”
    “A trusted insider told them,” I replied, my voice as foggy as my brain. Even after blinking a few times, the world was still too bright and blurry for my liking. “Trusted insiders know everything. I’m going to fail, Demi, you should run away now, save yourself.”
    She threw the bottle of vodka in the trashcan, there were only dregs left in the bottom anyway. “You are not going to fail. Not unless you sit around here drinking all day anyway. You need a shower and I’ll make you some coffee. We have rehearsals to get to.”
    “I’m not rehearsing, I’m calling the whole thing off. I’m going to Spain.” I vaguely remembered deciding on that sometime during the night.
    “You’re going to have a shower,” she said adamantly, pulling me up to stand. My head spun, she had to steady me. Good luck to the choreographer today. “One step in front of the other, come on.”
    Her grip around my waist was viselike. The woman had strength, that was for sure. I let her guide me to the bathroom where she threw me into the shower – pajamas and all. Before I knew it, cold water was raining down on me. It woke me up very quickly.
    “Can I leave you here without you drowning yourself?” Demi had her hands on her hips, giving me that disapproving look she had mastered. I nodded like a sullen child before she left.
    I stood, taking the sodden clothes off so I could shower like a regular person. I wondered how much vodka had been in the bottle before I started drowning my sorrows. I hoped it wasn’t a full bottle but I couldn’t remember for the life of me. By the way my head pounded, I’m pretty sure it had been quite full.
    I wasn’t going to replace the bottle, I couldn’t have it around for my three o’clock insomnia sessions. I should take it as a warning and not do it again. Drinking was bad for me. Not just for the obvious, but I was already recovering from an obsessive illness, I didn’t need to replace it with another one.
    Demi had a travel mug full of freshly brewed coffee waiting for me when I was dressed. She stood by the front door, ready for another argument if I refused. I wasn’t going without some answers though.
    “How are my ticket sales? And don’t lie to me, I need to know the truth.” I took a sip of the coffee, it was divine. “I’m going to know if you’re lying.”
    “Tickets are still selling strong.”
    “What does that mean? Have we sold out? Have we put on extra shows to accommodate demand?”
    She chewed on her bottom lip, her tell. She didn’t want me to know the truth.
    “Seriously, Demi, I need to know. I don’t want to be the has-been performing in a half empty stadium for a few diehard fans. The truth. Now.”
    She sighed, resigned to the fact I wouldn’t let it go. “We haven’t sold as many as expected. However, they are still selling. By the time you start the tour, they will all be gone. I’m sure of it.”
    “Are we halfway?”
    “About that.”
    “Halfway, Demi, are we half way?”
    “About a third of the way,” she finally confessed. One third of the tickets with only six weeks to go? That was ridiculous. I really was going to fail. Once, I would have sold that many