Page 23 of Filthy Sweet

“Why not?”

He turns to me. “You remember before I came to Seattle, I was in LA?”

“Right.”

“Thought I’d be a rock star. I’m decent, but after a couple hard years, I figured out I’m nothing special. Music was the only thing I’d ever cared about, though, so I started teaching myself everything I could about the business, ground up.”

“That’s how you started working with Phoenix Sunset. In LA.”

“No. Kissing Dirt was my first band.” Fox chuckles, remembering. “First, I just tried to get Mare signed. No luck. Then I got the whole band together, and they got rejected, too. I even taught myself how to produce music, got some fucking tracks down to prove it. Still couldn’t get anyone to take them seriously until I dangled Phoenix in front of the label.”

I tilt my head to the side, confused. “How’d you get Phoenix, then?”

Fox shakes his head. “Another time.”

The room feels a little wobbly, but when I place my feet on the ground, it steadies again. “You don’t have to be a famous rock star to play guitar,” I point out. “I play around with my keyboard sometimes.”

He nods, agreeing. “I still noodle when I’m stuck on work. Helps me think.”

I study his expression. He looks a little forlorn again, which I hate, although when I scoot my foot closer to his, I see some of his smile come back.

“Why do you work so hard?” I ask.

Fox turns and meets my eye. “Why do you work so hard, Dr. Lavigne?”

“Because I’m good at it,” I tell him, “and so it feels safe.”

I’m surprised to hear the words come out of my mouth, although I immediately recognize they’re true.

Fox smiles ruefully. “Everyone used to tell me I was worthless. I’m trying to convince myself they were wrong.”

My heart aches. “They were,” I tell him.

Fox shrugs. “At least you and I both care about real shit. Most of the people in this industry only want to make money.” He chuckles. “Don’t get me wrong. I like the money. But I’m in this business for the music, and weirdly, a lot of people aren’t. It’s one of the reasons I keep to myself.”

It feels like Fox is opening up to me, and that makes it a lot easier for me to open up to him, too. “Speaking of keeping to yourself, thanks for covering for me in front of Reggie the other day.”

“About the panties, you mean?”

I swallow, familiar warmth flushing through me. “Yeah.”

“Sorry we busted in on you.”

A guitar solo rolls through the theater, and the audience below us all applauds.

“It’s not your fault. I just always find a way to humiliate myself.”

“I don’t think you’ve done anything to feel embarrassed about,” he says seriously.

I laugh. “I wouldn’t be so sure. The last guy I hooked up with laughed me out of the bed when I ate my own cum.” The words hang in the air for just a second; then I slap my hand over my face.

“He what?”

“Can we pretend I never said that?”

“Who the fuck does this guy think he is?” Fox says, his voice rising in anger. “Fucker should be so lucky to see you eat your cum.”

“Oh my god, Fox!” I keep my hand over my face but start laughing. Him getting defensive on my behalf feels extremely nice.

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