Page 13 of Ring My Bell

“Oh, true… Well, Mathis thinks his piano is a work of art, so it counts!” I beamed at Mathis, grabbing a stray bit of kiwi from the truly monumental waffle between us and popping it in my mouth. “So are we all in?”

Paige nodded. We both turned to stare at Mathis. “I… guess,” he sighed. “I mean, I was sure it’s doomed to failure and a fairly ridiculous idea, but… It might not be.”

“It would be a change,” I said hopefully.

Paige chimed in. “It would be a possibility.”

“And if it crashed and burned,” I continued. “Well, we’ve been there. We know what it’s like to have to ride out the disaster.”

“Fine, fine,” Mathis groaned, though his dimples flashed as he tucked away a smile. “I’m in.”

“Love the enthusiasm,” I teased before glancing up. The blood drained from my face, and I wanted to duck under the table and hide. The one time I didn’t want someone to recognize me... “Shit.”

“Hi. Um…” A young woman approached our booth, her long hair twisted into plaits over her shoulders. Her entire outfit was an homage to the color teal and the makers of pleather. “I don’t want to interrupt but… Are you Iggy?”

She whispered my name, like she was afraid for someone to overhear, or maybe afraid she was wrong and didn’t want anyone to know.

I beamed at her. Keep it charming, Iggy. Keep them loving you. That’s the golden rule is, isn’t it? “That’s me! Hi!”

“Oh. My. Glob. I love your single, and I so cannot wait for the rest of the album! I saw you at the Grotto in LA back in April, and oh my glob!” She was grinning so hard, I thought her face might cramp. Laughing gently, I thanked her for coming to the show, but I was sure everyone could tell the expression was for show.

Mathis frowned at me, different than the version he’d been trotting out since last night. This one made me think he might be concerned.

I’ve known him less than a day, and I think I can read his expressions. Way to go, Iggy. You definitely need to get out more.

She gushed over me some more, and I answered kindly, telling her to check my website for upcoming dates. Before leaving, she swore she would, seeming a little starstruck.

I felt like a fraud.

“I thought your career was nonexistent.” Mathis popped a berry into his mouth.

Paige’s brows were somewhere around their hairline. “That happen often? Because I’d be cool with that level of failure.”

Darting a wary glance Mathis’s way, I fidgeted uneasily. “It’s not, like, super common, but I have a kind of niche fandom.”

“A fandom?” Mathis asked, almost laughing out loud. “I thought you hadn’t been able to get work because of Raymond holding you back. How do you have fans?”

“Well, the single, first of all,” I pointed out tartly. “And I hustled my ass off. Not that kind of hustle. I mean, that’s a job, but I don’t have the discipline to keep detailed tax records. Raymond wasn’t booking me any gigs, so I started finagling them myself, using his name to do it. I mostly performed at small clubs and that sort of thing. A lot of drag shows for some reason. But then Raymond put that song—your song—in front of me, and it was like, yes, my hard work is paying off. Those stupid motivational posters in my guidance counselor’s office were right!”

“Why would he ditch you while you were on the verge of breaking into the scene big time? With me, I wasn’t malleable enough for him. I think. I…” Mathis blew out a sigh. “I told him no when he was being ridiculous. I refused unpaid gigs. I insisted on doing things my way.” Scowling at the empty plate, he added, “He wanted me to go blond, for fuck’s sake, and wear skinny jeans.”

I darted a look at my own attire and frowned. “Well. That…seems to be what got his attention on me in the first place.”

“So,” Paige drawled, breaking the growing awkwardness between us. “We need a solid plan here. We can’t just waltz into the festival and expect to get on stage.”

This I knew how to handle.

Kinda.

“Okay, so, what we need first is a logistics guy. Or gal. Or nonbinary pal. And I think I know someone. His name is Gerald, and he used to help me with my website until he moved to Sacramento last summer. He’s really good at scheduling and is super smart.”

Mathis’s brows drew down. “He an ex or something?”

I snorted. “Nope. Even if he was my type, I’m definitely not his. Or if I am, he did a damn good job of hiding it.” I tried flirting with Gerald, but he’d brushed me off with an eye roll and a sure, Iggy.

I admit, it stung, even a year or so later. Mostly because he’d been the last guy I found vaguely interesting.

Okay, that was a lie. Second-to-last guy. The last guy was currently sitting next to me, acting like we couldn’t see him dragging his finger through the dregs of fruit syrup on the plate and licking it off his fingertip.

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