My eyes linger a bit too long as he scrolls through the device. My smile vanishes, dark clouds clawing their way into my aura.
Act normal. Erin has anFfhonetoo, just like half of the world. I take a deep breath to calm myself down.
It works.
I pull out of the parking lot, leaving the glowing hills of West Cove behind as we head for the capital.
Tom fiddles with the settings of the car radio. The volume rises. A female voice as soft and sugary as cotton candy fills the car. It's a catchy pop song, and I listen carefully to the lyrics—she’s seducing someone as an act of revenge.
“You like this song?”
“No, I don’t, but I need to hear it.”
“Why?”
“Wrote and composed it when I was high as fuck. I need to understand why this garbage is topping the UK charts.”
“You functioned using?”
He lets out a dry laugh.
“I wouldn’t call this functioning. Sober me would have never let this crime against ears leave the studio. This is a mainstream disaster. I can do better.”
“Sounds like you've got yourself a hit anyway. Bet she’s already celebrating that chart climb.”
My eyes find their way to the side of his face.
“Who is she?”
He huffs.
“Indy Hamilton. She’s amazing.”
“Hm. She your girlfriend?”
Relationships. The elephant we haven’t named. This would be a gentle way in, but the look he gives shuts me up immediately.
“No, Yosh. She’s a very attractive young lady, but I haven’t slept with her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I snort.
“Why would I? It’s none of my business.”
His face softens.
“Sorry, it’s just... I’m used to the assumption that I sleep with every woman I’m seen with.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“People love to gossip. Usually, they're not wrong. With Indy it’s different. I really like her a lot, so she’s off-limits, and...”
He trails off, clearly waiting for me to ask. I know better, but I do it anyway.
“And what?”
The satisfaction on his face makes me instantly regret I opened this can of trouble.
“And... I don’t sleep with my clients.”
