Page 14 of Ring My Bell

Unf.

I dug my phone out of my hip pocket and scrolled till I found Gerald’s number. Tapping out a text, I said to Paige and Mathis, “He’s also like Wile E. Coyote super genius with finding things. Concert tickets, hotel reservations, weird snack foods. He’s got an MBA from Stanford but didn’t want to work for his parents’ firm in LA so…” Shrugging, I fired off the text. “There. Asked him if he’d be down for a video chat later and maybe a road trip to Colorado.”

I didn’t have to wait long for a reply. Within a minute, Gerald had shot back, Why do I feel like you’re only going to be happy if I go to jail for something?

I snorted, reading the text out loud before replying. That was one time, and you were only in there an hour. And I apologized. What else do you have going on?

Nothing. Damn it. Fine. Chat at three?

Mathis and Paige agreed on the time, and I told Gerald to wait for my text with the login info.

Paige had to get to their job at the coffee shop, and I needed to be out and about, tired of feeling cooped up, so Mathis and I walked back to his apartment. “Er, I guess I should ask if it’s okay if I stay with you another night?”

He snorted. “Sounds like we’re about to be going on a road trip, so that’s a moot point. Any idea how we’re going to pay for this?”

I nibbled my lower lip as we waited to cross at the intersection. Catching Mathis’ heated expression staring at my mouth, my face warmed, and my blood decided to head south. “Well. I kind of have a way, but it’s probably best if we don’t use it much…” I told him about Monty, and the credit card, and how Raymond had frozen my money.

“Dude. Why did you let him put it in a joint account?” Mathis groaned, putting his hand on my lower back as he hurried to beat the light change. “Didn’t your mother teach you better?”

“Not really. She’s kind of fame-hungry and told me to do whatever Raymond suggested since he was such a big name and known as a star maker. When I signed with him, before we started, um, dating, he suggested a special account so his accountant could help me keep track of the money and make investments. I didn’t realize it was bullshit till things started going bad, and I needed to start booking my own gigs. I couldn’t pay for time at a rehearsal studio downtown, and I asked him how I could access my earnings…”

It had been an ugly fight and, now that I thought about it, likely the beginning of my end with him. I wasn’t a big earner—he never let me be—but I was asking too many questions, not trusting him enough. Not treating him like a god. I sighed, glancing over at Mathis. His sharp features were set into grim lines. “You all right?”

“Just imagining how it’ll feel to punch Raymond in the face. It’s a favorite fantasy of mine.”

“From what I hear, there’s probably a line.”

* * *

We made it back to his place, and I checked on my car. It was tucked away in a tiny parking lot behind Mathis’s building, barely big enough for my car, much less mine and Raymond’s. Frowning at my beater, he shook his head. “We’ll take mine. It’s a piece of shit, but it’s a piece of shit that’ll make it to Colorado and back.”

I couldn’t disagree with him.

We had a few hours before calling Gerald and Paige to start making plans, so I used my old laptop to dig up some names from Raymond’s ranks of destroyed hopes and careers.

“Some of these people seem to be doing okay,” I said after a while. “Like, they got regular jobs and a few have families, careers. This one guy became a priest. Go figure.”

“If anything will make you turn to god, it’s working with a devil,” Mathis muttered darkly.

“Whoa, easy there, Dante. That was fucking intense.”

Mathis shrugged, cheeks pinking up. “Songwriter,” he mumbled. “And I used to be really into poetry, so…”

“Used to? I took a peek at your bookshelves earlier, you know.”

“Nosy bastard.”

I flashed him a smile, and he ducked his head, tucking that dimpled smirk away. “Not a lot to do while I waited for you to get back from getting my car. Shower, put my naked ass on all your furniture, check out your bookshelves.”

Mathis jerked his head up to stare at me. “You did what to my furniture?”

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding! I don’t put my naked bits where they’re not explicitly welcome, thank you very much!”

Mathis’s expression was very… intense. And hot. And made me feel like I was about to melt into goo or burst into flames. I wasn’t sure which. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Holy shit, are you flirting with me?”

“Holy shit,” he groused back, “do you not have a filter and just every thought pops out of your head?”

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