Page 16 of Ring My Bell

“I will neither confirm nor deny.” We both chuckled. “I had a very cinematic idea of what my life would be like, and I think that’s probably why I felt so poor done by when everything went to shit with Raymond.”

Iggy groaned. “Let’s not talk about him. We need to discuss our set list.”

“We need to figure out how we work together,” I said. “For all we know, we’re terrible.”

“And Paige, too. If they’re still wanting to do this and aren’t just along for the ride.” He glanced at the rearview mirror and blanched anew. “Oh my god.”

As the road climbed into the mountains proper, I navigated us around a hairpin turn. Driving in the twisting roads didn’t bother me, but Iggy’s distress did. “So what’s your vocal range? I’m betting you’re a strong tenor.”

He sniffed, face buried in his hands. “Lyric tenor. Three notes, three octaves.”

Oh. That sparked some ideas, stirring up a part of my brain I thought had gone dormant. “Three octaves? Seriously?”

He nodded. “I had a lot of voice lessons before… well. Before. I’m also a fucking amazing violinist.”

I grinned. “You’re shitting me.”

A tiny smile tugged at his lips. A bit of color returning to his cheeks, he stared steadily at his hands, resting on his lap. “The reason I even tried to get into this whole bullshit with Raymond was because I wanted money to go to a conservatory, instead of the local university’s music program. Fucked myself over there, huh?”

“Can you play for me? Tonight, I mean.” I rushed to explain when he darted a horrified look my way. “I’d love to hear it. I… I’d offer to play my piano for you, but…”

“We’ll get it back. Even if I have to go all Mission: Impossible and rappel into Raymond’s junk room to do it.”

We fell quiet for a few miles. Iggy’s strained breathing as the road inclined and grew more twisty tugged at my heart. If I’d known, we’d have taken the long way. When a truck passed us going the opposite direction, he made a pitiful sound and closed his eyes.

“Hey,” I soothed. “We’ll be going down the mountain soon. Safely. And then we’ll be in Nevada, at the hotel, and you can get a huge drink and crash.”

“Don’t say crash,” he breathed. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. We’ll be fine, fine, fine…”

The words twisted around in my head. By the time we reached the decline, a melody threaded between them.

* * *

The hotel had a piano in the lobby, which made my fingers itch and Iggy’s eyes gleam. “Still want to play for me?” he asked as we stood at the check-in desk. Gerald and Paige were sprawled on one of the sofas scattered about the lobby, and Gerald seemed very happy about their proximity. Iggy followed the direction of my gaze, smiling to himself. “Gerald’s a good egg. Paige said he was real sweet for the drive out here. They seem kind of taken with him, but that might be my inner romantic trying to ship people in real life.”

Paige had one knee tucked up, their chin resting on it as Gerald gestured, expounding on some point of interest in their conversation. “I don’t know Paige well at all, but they seem a little smitten.”

“So does Gerald.”

“Sir?”

Iggy’s head whipped around to face the desk, his smile already jacked up to a thousand watts. “Hi! Yes! We’re checking in. The rooms are under the name Raymond Montaine.”

“I’m sorry but…” The clerk tapped a few more keys and frowned. “There’s no rooms under that name.”

Leaning toward the clerk, Iggy gave him a sheepish wink. “I’m supposed to be incognito, but my manager totally forgot to book the room in time. Total last-minute trip, though, you know? Hey, Paige! Paige, can I borrow you a sec, hon?”

Paige unfurled themself from the sofa and strode over, all business. “Yes, sir?”

“They don’t seem to have the reservations,” Iggy pouted. “Can you call Mitchy and ask him what I need to do?”

Arching one supercilious brow, Paige turned to the clerk. They had a real way with their eyebrows, and I was kinda envious. “Your hotel lost the reservations Raymond Montaine made for one of his stars?” Huffing, they threw up their hands and shook their head. “It’s not your fault—you’re a busy location and have so many guests coming and going. Besides,” they winked, like they were bringing the clerk in on a joke, “chances are good Mr. Raymond just thought he made the reservations.”

The clerk gave a polite laugh. “Well, we do have some rooms available, but they’re suites. The, ah, more expensive option.”

Iggy sniffed. “That’s fine. It’s what Raymond would want.” He flipped a green credit card onto the counter and smiled. “If there’s a problem, call this number.” He slipped a business card onto the counter. “Ask to speak with Monty. He handles Mr. Raymond’s personal accounts.”

I turned away, unable to watch.

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