How Bittersweet is Karma

Verbose: Karma

He shrugged. "There's no place like home. Now sit. Please tell me how you think the boss can help you."

He took a seat on one of the couches and rested his elbows on his knees.

I sank down across from him, still gripping my portfolio as if holding it close to my heart would return what was mine once more.

"Blaine Grey stole my songs, landed a record deal, and is currently recording them without my permission."

Demetrius linked his fingers between his knees. "Go on."

I inhaled and caught the smell of lemon furniture polish and something else . . . was that frankincense? For a moment, it burned my sinuses, but then my grip loosened, and I slumped against the back of the couch. I straightened the scarf covering my hair and exhaled slowly.

"I met Blaine at UNLV in my Egyptian studies class, and we discovered we both loved music and writing. We started studying together and he. . . well, he stole from me."

I stared at my lap as rage burned in my chest.

"Did he steal your words, or did he manipulate you? Because I'm trying to find out if this is a scorned woman situation."

"He stole from me!" I think I was more shocked by my outburst than he was; I clapped a hand over my mouth, and a stinging sensation washed over my skin. Letters flashed across my sepia-brown flesh. I gasped as words appeared and disappeared on my hands.

Not again. Not now.

Demetrius moved to my side and sat down. I scooted away, but he held his hand up. "No harm will come to you in my presence, do you understand?"

"You'll forgive me for not believing you."

"Believe it or not. It doesn't make it any less true. Has that happened before? The words?"

I shook my head, not willing to tell him the truth. Only when I'm angry like I'm some verbose Hulk. I shook out one hand and then the other. I'd had a steam burn from a boiling pot once. This felt similar.

He flicked his chin up. "What's that?"

I looked down at my portfolio, now lying on my lap. I pulled it close to me once more. "Proof of the theft. This is my work, my handwriting, dates, everything. If I can just get someone to listen to me, someone like your boss . . . I hear he's influential in the music business."

"In a manner of speaking," Demetrius said.

His voice rolled through me like floodwaters, threatening to wash away my troubles, but also everything that mattered to me. Maybe even my life. I shivered and pulled my sweater tighter around me.

"I've already spoken to the police, a lawyer, the record label he signed with, and no one would give me the time of day."

"I see. And which record label are we talking about?"

"Silver Luck Records. They had me escorted from the building."

He shook his head. "Lonnie Silver's place? Huh. Okay." Demetrius finally leaned back and sighed. "Mind if I take a look?"

My first reflex was to never let the portfolio out of my hands, but something about the gentle way this man had treated me up to this point gave me the courage to hand him my most prized possession.

His long fingers grasped the corner of the portfolio, but he didn't pull it out of my grasp.

"I swear to you that I will protect you and your words with my life, Scribe."

I hope you're enjoying my Gods of Rock 'n' Roll stories. If you want to learn more about my books, check out my website at www.rlmerrillauthor.com. Stay tuned...