“Okay, so, it’s… it’s kind of a last-ditch effort thing because Raymond’s burned me with all possible connections in the industry.” Mathis grunted, widening his eyes in commiseration. “There’s this festival coming up. The Bremen Town Music Festival. It’s huge. It’s…” I waved my hand. “It’s like Coachella, but for indie acts and way fewer ‘shrooms.”
“I know exactly what it is,” he growled. The slight softening of his expression vanished, replaced with something almost scary as he glowered at his beer. “It’s where I met Raymond.”
“No!”
“Mmm.”
“So you’re like super-anti-Bremen Town then?”
“Stop with the puppy-dog eyes. Those don’t work on me.”
“Everyone who says that is totally lying.”
“Want to risk it?”
“Ass.” I reached for my glass to find it empty. Frowning, I poked at the last of the cocktail onions and sighed. “Damn it. That’s my limit.”
“Where are you staying?” Mathis was already pushing himself out of the booth. “I’ll call you a ride.”
“Ah. I…am not staying anywhere in particular.” Because saying in my car at the first big-box store parking lot I can find did not come off as coy and seductive as one might think.
Mathis stared at me, those deep blue eyes of his narrowing as insight broke. “Oh, fucking hell. Fuck my life. Okay, I’m doing this, but it’s my good deed for the millennium. Come on. I’ll take you back to mine so you can sleep this off.”
I started to protest, then changed my mind. “Yes. Yes, that is an awesome idea because that means I have more time to tell you about my plan and how we’re gonna show the world Raymond Montaine is a sack of shit.”
Chapter Four
MATHIS
Iggy was surprisingly steady on his four-inch heels as I led him to the front of the club. As we passed, I gave Jem the bouncer a nod.
“My car!” Iggy gasped. “Wait! I can’t leave it! It’s got my shit in it!”
“Of course,” I sighed. “Where are you parked?”
He waved vaguely town the block, stumbling that way.
“Wait! Just wait a sec!” I called. “Jem?”
“Move it to employee parking, I’ll let Dom know not to call the tow service.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “I’ll tell him the guy’s with you.”
“He’s not with me.”
Jem raised one nonexistent brow. “That is demonstrably false.”
I glared at Jem, ignoring his guffaw as I stalked off after Iggy. Iggy who had the gall to be singing my song as he strolled towards his beat-up car. Getting the keys from him took a bit of wrestling. By the time I did, moved the car, retrieved Iggy’s bags out, and pinged a ride, he’d finally shut up and was staring thoughtfully (albeit blearily) off into space.
He didn’t start talking again until our ride showed up, and he climbed in the back seat.
“I love your hair!” he gasped. “It’s so blue.”
The driver smirked in the rearview mirror. “Thanks. Big night?”
I sighed. “Not in a good way.”
They snorted, swinging the car out into the light traffic toodling by the club and aimed us at my apartment.
“Hey. Hey. Hey, Mathis. Why couldn’t you just drive my car?” Iggy demanded. “Huh?”