Levee felt like he had sold his soul to the devil. To him, the devil wasn't some red monster. It was a white man in a suit... The one thing he cared about he had sold to make pennies so he could barely survive. It had been a few months since being cut from the band and all Levee wanted now was to go back and make things different... Scraping his foot on the concrete, he smoked a cigarette and looked up at the busy streets of with disdain. He began to walk aimlessly, throwing the cigarette in the trash. He held his trumpet case firmly, wearing a pinstripe suit and hat along with his yellow shoes...

Selling his own music to Sturdyvant had definitely taken a toll on him. Filled with regret, the young man knew there was probably no way for him to go back. Apologize for what happened... Change things. All he really wanted was to be better. But the world was cruel. God really had struck him down. Nothing had worked out for him since. Cutler's words looped in his head constantly, haunting him in each waking moment and even in his sleep. It was terrible. But he tried to tell himself that there was nothing he could do, so he could just accept this move on.