Page 12 of Ring My Bell

The smile lighting Iggy’s face was damn near magic. “Oh my god, you are not going to regret this! Can I shower real quick? I need to shower and, oh, change clothes, and I bet I look like I’ve been dragged backwards through a hedge!” He patted at his wild hair, and I felt myself smiling. “Don’t laugh at me!” he scolded.

“I promise I’m not. We’ll, um. We’ll go get your car. You can use the shower while we’re gone.”

Iggy bounced on his toes. “Thank you so much. Oh my god, I feel so gross after yesterday and then last night and ugh. I’ll get breakfast, okay? You pick a place. I’ll pay!”

He disappeared into my room, singing my damn song thank you very much as he dragged his suitcase up onto my bed to look for his outfit.

Paige jingled their ring of keys, grinning at me when I looked over at them. “See? Told you not to worry about who was paying.”

Chapter Five

IGGY

The café Paige took us to was amazing.

Bright-colored everything, smelling like funnel cakes and bacon, bouncy international pop music playing… I sighed happily as the host led us to a seashell-shaped booth and handed us a menu to share. “I’ll take a taro bubble tea, please,” Paige said. “And he’d like a royal milk tea,” they pointed at Mathis. “And Iggy would like…” They squinted at me, pursing their lips. “Iggy would like the black amber pearl milk tea.”

“What the hell are we about to drink?” Mathis asked as the host hurried off to drop our order at the counter on his way back to the front.

“I don’t care, so long as it involves caffeine,” I groaned. “These waffles look like they’re the size of a small child.”

Paige flipped the page over in front of me. “Some of them are. They’re meant to be shared.”

“Meant to and will be are two different things,” Mathis murmured. I couldn’t help it—I snorted. He flashed me that heart stopping grin of his and tilted the menu so I could see. “Want to share with me, or are you thinking you might find a way to bend space and time to fit an entire waffle in your stomach?” I hesitated. Smile quirking, he leaned in a bit closer. “Share with me. You know you want to….”

Paige did a bad job of hiding their laugh as the server appeared with our drinks. Staring at Mathis, a little gobsmacked, I let him place our order.

“What? Do I already have something on my face?”

I shook my head. “I just was expecting…someone different. More…”

“Of an asshole? Mean? I’m both of those things sometimes but right now,” he tapped his fingers on the table, “I’m determined, desperate, and starving. Put some waffles in me and let’s talk.”

Paige bit their lip, giving me a wide-eyed, amused glance. I hid my face in my phone until our food arrived, afraid I’d stare at Mathis the entire time if I didn’t.

* * *

“I mean, it’s not the worst idea,” I admitted. “I know the Bremen Town Music Festival isn’t really, you know…”

“Swear to god, if you say brand,” Mathis growled. Paige snorted into their bubble tea.

Rolling my eyes, I continued. “It’s not perfect, but think of it—we can get our names back out there and take control back from Raymond.”

“And,” Paige piped up, “maybe get ourselves a record deal.”

“Ourselves?” Mathis and I said at the same time. “Um, no offense,” I said, “but… we’re kind of professional musicians here and—”

“And,” they popped one of the black pearly boba between their teeth, “Raymond fucked me over, too. Look me up: Trixie and the Martians.”

Mathis nodded. “I googled them this morning. They’re legit.”

Paige shrugged. “As much as you can be on the fringes of the business, anyway.” They rattled their cup, looking for more tapioca pearls. “But I think it’s a great idea, you know? Get up there in front of some people, show Raymond he didn’t destroy us.”

“Raymond thrives on being in control, wielding all the power,” Mathis said carefully. “He was… abusive. Not physically, not to me anyway, but the controlling shit, stealing my piano from me…”

“Okay, step one, Bremen Town Festival. Step two, Ocean’s Eleven style heist, but instead of a stealing from a casino, we’re getting your piano back. Or maybe that’d be less Danny Ocean and more Lupin.”

“It’s only Lupin if it’s fine art,” Paige said.

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