Page 75 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
He texts back within a minute.
I hate to tell you this, darling, but an executive from the Lifetime channel called my agent to see how they could contact you. They want to make a movie.
OMFG. Please tell me that’s a joke.
I wish it were. How are you?
Busy having a breakdown. I’ll call you later.
I flop back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling in dismay.
Where could I get a new identity? They make it look so easy in the movies, but I don’t know anyone even remotely criminal. Do I just walk into a passport photo place and drop hints about fleeing the country while flashing a wad of cash?
Maybe Lorenzo knows someone. Or Dominic. I bet he has ties to the mob—he knows everybody. Plus, he’s Sicilian. They’re super old school.
I’m deep in thought when my cell phone rings. It’s a phone number I don’t recognize. “Hello?”
“Please don’t hang up.”
It’s Satan. Instantly my blood pressure shoots up a hundred points. “You have a death wish, don’t you?”
He ignores my question and plows ahead with all the finesse of a bulldozer. “Five million cash plus the deed to the new house.”
“In exchange for my soul and what’s left of my self-respect? No.”
“I’ll throw in the apartment. The lease is up at the end of the month, but I’ll keep paying it. You could use it as a studio.”
“Or you could buy me a studio on Fillmore in Pacific Heights like I always wanted.”
His shout is gleeful. “Yes! Totally! You pick the place!”
I sigh, amazed at this idiot. “That was a joke, dumbass.”
“Oh. Okay.” He has the nerve to sound crestfallen.
“Where are you calling me from? I want to make sure I block the number.”
“I’m staying at a hotel downtown. And I’m gonna stay here until I can figure out how to make it up to you.”
I picture his face as I walked down the aisle toward him, the horror in his eyes, and have to pinch the bridge of my nose hard enough so the pain distracts me from crying. “Here’s an idea: light yourself on fire.”
There’s a pause, like he’s considering it. I jerk upright in bed. “That was another joke!”
Big sigh. “Oh. Okay.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
In a small, pathetic voice he says, “I’m lost without you. I didn’t realize how much you meant to me until you were gone.”
I throw a pillow across the room and shout into the phone, “Boo-frickin’-hoo, dickface! And by the way, you’re gay!”
From somewhere downstairs, Cornelia whimpers.
Brad’s quiet for a moment, then he heaves another big world-weary sigh. “Yeah. It’s been really hard hiding it from everyone. I feel a lot better since I told you.”
My eyes narrow. “I swear to God, dude, I’mma cut a bitch if you keep this shit up.”
“It’s the truth! I’ve known since I was like six or something, but you know how my dad’s always going on about family values and homosexuality being from the devil and, y’know, all that stuff.”
