Im supposed to be better than this. Im supposed to have a tenure-track job teaching music history to undergrads, writing papers about Bach, and proving to kids like me that you can work your way out of Harlem. Im not supposed to be following a rock star around the country, fetching his mail, making sure his groupies are of age.
Im definitely not supposed to be sleeping with said rock star, who claims to be the Greek God Dionysus. At first I thought it was a load of crap. Niks fans might think his music captures their heartsand soulsbut I knew better. Until one of Niks orgiastic concerts gets out of hand and I dont know which is worse: that he might be a god after all, or that he has a body count.
Nik doesnt care what I want or what I should be. He wants to tear down the world Ive built, warping all I am, until his music is all thats left of me. I cant let him do that. I shouldnt believe in him. Ive seen what happens to the people who believe in him.
But I cant get his song out of my head.