Page 37 of Ring My Bell

“No,” I hissed. “Just wait. He has to come in some time.”

“What if he knows?” Iggy murmured. “Maybe we left some sign outside…”

I shook my head. “Gerald and Paige are at the festival with the car. They got the valet ticket and everything to prove they were there if anyone asks later. We didn’t touch the shit out front. The place still looks empty from the outside.” We both jumped at the sound of the car door slamming. “Fuck. Here we go…”

Raymond’s steps were heavy on the cabin porch. After a moment, the door opened, and his muttered swearing reached us. “Iggy! Where the hell are you, you little shit?”

I slipped my hand over Iggy’s mouth, pressing his head back against my shoulder. It didn’t work, though. His gasp made Raymond stop in his tracks. “I hear you, Iggy,” he snarled. “You think you’ve got me over a barrel, don’t you? How pathetic are you gonna look when the news hits tomorrow about the wannabe popstar who stalked, harassed, and tried to kill his former manager?” He tsked. “Seriously. How sad, Iggy. How movie of the week.”

Raymond moved past our hiding spot and paused, just out of sight. “This is breaking and entering. That’s another one to add to the list, isn’t it? Your assault on me back in L.A., the attempted theft from my studio, your libel… And what about your boyfriend? Or are you partners in crime now?”

“Why not both?” I murmured, barely a whisper against Iggy’s ear. He bit down on my finger to keep from panic-laughing.

“I’ve known a lot of little shits in my time, Iggy,” he purred, stopping in front of Bremen, the poor bear. “You, though, were the biggest pain in my ass.”

“This took a turn for the scatological I’m not really loving,” Iggy muttered. I huffed quietly against the back of his neck.

Eyes narrowed in the dimly lit living room, Raymond turned a slow circle. “This is ridiculous, Iggy,” he sighed, that familiar tone I’d once thought was apologetic and almost sweet, now grating. “Come out. I know you’re still here—your phone’s on the counter, for fuck’s sake.”

I closed my eyes and silently mouthed shit. Iggy pressed a bit closer.

“If you come out,” Raymond entreated, “I won’t even tell the cops about how you stole my credit card. I’ll give you access back to the bank account.”

“It was my money,” Iggy hissed quietly. I put my hand back over his mouth.

Shifting to look at our hiding spot, Raymond cocked his head. “Kitten,” he pleaded, “come on. This has all been such a horrible time for both of us. I admit, I made some mistakes, but you…” He sighed again, shaking his head. “Iggy, my little kitten, come out. Let me see you. We can talk this out. And you can make a statement about how this has all been a joke gone wrong or maybe a lover’s spat.”

Something in the house creaked, and we all three froze. I thought I heard a soft swearing somewhere past Raymond, down the corridor leading to the bedrooms.

“Iggy, I’m not going to be so forgiving in a few minutes. If I have to pull you out of your hidey hole to talk some sense into you, you’re not going to enjoy it nearly as much as if you’d just come to me yourself.” He started pacing again, back and forth this time. He stalked between the kitchen and the den, always darting glances to the dark corridor where the noise had come from.

“My phone’s got no signal,” I said softly. “So we either wait him out, or we rush him.”

“Or maybe wait for help?” Iggy breathed, barely making a sound. “That’s an option.”

“Paige and Gerald will be back at some point, but do you want them coming in to find an agitated Raymond waiting?”

“Fuck.”

The sudden quiet made us both shut up. Raymond was standing between the kitchen and den, staring down the corridor.

“I hear you, you little shit,” he spat. “You should be afraid of me. I did you a kindness, cutting you loose, but you just couldn’t let go, could you? So desperate and clingy…”

If I hadn’t been damn near squeezing the breath out of Iggy, he might have thrown himself at Raymond and clawed him like some wild thing. “How dare he!” Iggy seethed.

I gave him the tiniest of shakes. “I know, baby. I know…”

“Do you have Mathis with you?” Raymond asked, taking a step towards the corridor. “I thought he’d learned his place, but looks like he can be led around by the cock like any other man, hm? What’d you promise him, to help you out? Or is he just so old and pathetic he leaped at the chance to be relevant?”

“Old?” I hissed. “The fuck?”

“I know, baby, I know,” Iggy parroted back. I nipped his ear sharply, but he managed to keep my mouth shut.

“Did you know,” Raymond said, taking one more step, “that Monty quit? Hell of a thing. Just up and quit. Funny thing was, the same day he emailed—fucking emailed like this was some goddamn fast food job or something—I got a notice from the DOJ. Apparently, someone told them I’ve been a naughty boy. Now, maybe it was Monty. Or maybe,” he took another step, “it was you.” One more step.

The soft squeak sounded again, and Raymond snorted. “Fucking pain in my ass.” He strode forward.

Towards the dark shape that had appeared in the corridor, blocking the blue-white glow from the fridge.

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