Page 52 of Flipping the Script

All these details I’d picked up on over the years were irrelevant and unnecessary for me to remember, but I did.

“Jesse?”

“Sorry?” I blinked, focusing on Nate. I’d zoned out there for a second.

“Everything good?” He looked concerned now.

“Yeah. Just tired today. It was a weird weekend.”

“Not used to having all that free time?” he joked.

“Nope. Forgot what it’s like to have a life.”

“A life? What’s that?” Nate waved at his paperwork. “Between work and the kids, I’ve long since forgotten what having a life feels like.”

“That’s the price you pay when you’re old.” I clucked my tongue at him.

Nate was only forty, but he was a good sport about us teasing him for being the oldest guy in the shop.

“Brat.” He pointed at the door. “Back to work.”

“Yes, sir.” I snapped a sloppy salute at him.

He laughed. “You and Isaac are going to be the death of me.”

I beamed a big smile at him just to be cheeky, then slipped away from the door to head back to my station.

I paused at the door to the front of the shop. “Hey, Cass?” I asked our front-end clerk, who was also Nate’s oldest daughter. “Do I have anything on my schedule?”

She checked the computer. “One more tonight. An oil change.” She spun her stool around so she faced me. “I figured I’d toss you a softball for your last appointment.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.” She grinned and spun back around.

One more hour and an easy job, then I could go home and spend the evening trying to forget all about Sebastian and my new kink.

8

SEBASTIAN

The flashing lightsand pounding bass were comforting. So were the relative darkness and anonymity that Envy offered.

There were two LGBT+ clubs in town—Envy and Chimera. Both were only open on the weekends, and they catered to two very different crowds.

Chimera was the club you went to when you were looking for a classy night out and wanted to enjoy theme nights and watch top-shelf go-go dancers.

Envy was where you went when you were looking for a little hedonism to go with your dance music. The club was famous for its large back room and lax rules when it came to nudity or getting your sexy on.

Hopefully I could disappear into the crowd and have a night off. Just be out among people and get my mind off all the crap that was going on in my life.

Work was great, but it also sucked. Ben was awesome, and I was learning a ton from him, but the rest of the guys at the shop were still salty about all the interruptions and hordes of people looking for autographs or selfies.

I couldn’t even call them fans. Most had probably never even listened to any of my songs, or if they had, they hadn’t listened to more than what they flipped through on our social media channels.

They wanted selfies and autographs because it was something they could post for likes. They didn’t need to enjoy my music to use my fame for clout. The same as everyone at Ben’s party hadn’t given a shit about my music or my work. They only cared about hearing good stories and living vicariously through me.

That was what made everything that much more annoying. Fans were amazing. They were the reason I’d had a career, and I’d always be grateful for their support over the years.

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