Page 32 of Ring My Bell

I nodded. “I figured… We’d told some people you were going to post gig dates and stuff so… Simple website. Just a list of the dates for now, a little bit of a bio… And I’m sorry I didn’t ask first, but here we are. Taa daa?”

He inhaled slowly and deeply handing me the phone back after staring at it for a long time. “What else?”

“Um. You have a new Twitter. And a new ShoutOut and a GigBox and... Here, just look. There’s a social media tab on your page.”

I slid down the bed and hid my face as he scrolled through the webpage, then started following links.

“Are you leaving?” I asked from behind my hands after what felt like an entire year. “Mathis?”

He tugged my hands down and tipped my chin up to look at him. “I’m not thrilled, Iggy, but… I’m not as mad as I could be, either. If we’re going forward, then yeah these are things I needed set up. I just wish you’d let me be the one to do it. Sometimes, you have to let people figure shit out for themselves, Iggy.”

I stared up at him. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m annoyed,” he sighed. “Annoyed and hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.”

* * *

We found the festival’s food trucks just past the entry gates and loaded up on barbacoa and tacos. After grabbing Paige a taro bubble tea from another truck, we hiked back to the rental house. A few people said hello as they passed us, and one stopped to ask if we were staying in the bear house. “That place is so fucked up,” he whispered. “The guy who rents it every year, he’s some big producer supposedly. Has these wild parties and is just a pain in everyone’s ass. It was a relief when he didn’t return this year.”

“Well,” Mathis said as our gossipy friend hurried down the hill towards the gates, “at least we know it’s not just us that hates Raymond.”

“To know him is to loathe him,” I intoned solemnly.

We got to the house in time to feed Paige and Gerald before they headed out to the schmoozing ‘do Gerald had scored passes for. “We’re gonna gather intel. Like we’re the A-Team,” Paige announced. “Gerald’s totally Hannibal. I think I’d be Face.”

Mathis paused in parceling out of the food and waved a fork at all of us. “All of you need to watch something other than eighties TV. Branch out, get PBS, something.”

Gerald snorted. “Careful. Do you really want them throwing out public television references around?”

Mathis shrugged. “Might be a nice change.”

I tossed a bit of tortilla at him, and our late lunch devolved into something more carefree than not. I hadn’t laughed so much in a long time. Even for a few minutes, it was easy to forget we were on a tightrope, and I wasn’t sure there was a net waiting below us.

Chapter Thirteen

MATHIS

Just after six, Paige and Gerald left the cabin, heading for the festival’s official opening party, the one intended for the celebrities and industry stars, not just the performers. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go?” Iggy asked with naked longing in his voice. “I’m really good at socializing!”

“I know, but if we’re going to surprise Raymond, then we need to be out of sight for this part.”

“But he knows Paige,” Iggy complained. “And they’re pretty memorable.”

“With Raymond, it’s out of sight, out of mind nine times out of ten, baby,” I sighed, then froze as I realized what I’d added on to that sentence. “So! I think we’ve got barbacoa left if you want some!”

Brows quirking up, Iggy’s lips pressed into a thin line as he did a poor job of hiding a smile. His dimples gave it away entirely. “Um, sure. That’d be good. Gerald grabbed some sodas and bottled water in town earlier, and I stuck them in the fridge.” I nodded and headed for the kitchen. “Baby,” he called after me, a laugh in his voice.

“We’re not going to pretend I didn’t say that?”

He slid up behind me at the counter, opening the takeout boxes and parceling out the food. “Nope. Not even a little.”

He slipped his arms around my waist, pressing his front to my back. Given our size difference, I expected it to feel awkward with his much smaller body behind mine. Instead, I felt cherished. Safe. And more than a little turned on as the rise and fall of his breath sent tremors of awareness through me. Feeling him pressed against me, even through our layers of clothes, made me think of the handful of times I’d felt him against me without.

“Leftovers not looking so good?” He pressed a soft kiss between my shoulder blades.

“How’d you know?” I groaned as his hand slid down to cup the prominent bulge of my half-hard cock. “Dead giveaway, huh?”

“Mmm. Not gonna lie, I think I’d prefer this,” he squeezed gently, “to dinner right now.” With surprising strength, Iggy turned me, not giving me a chance to stop him.

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