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“Where am I?” he asked.
“At Kevin’s place. I had to pick you up last night from the club. Don’t you remember?”
“No, honestly. I don’t even remember doing my show last night.”
“That’s because you didn’t do your show.”
“What?! Why?!” he exclaimed, shooting up to a sitting position in the bed. I jumped a bit from his sudden rise.
“I don’t know, Jeff. You tell me. I mean, I get a call from a person using your phone, telling me to pick you up. You’re sitting outside the club bent over with your equipment—and by the way, where the hell did you get that equipment?”
He rubbed his hands over his face and mumbled. “We aren’t doing this right now, Stella.”
“Excuse me? Jeff? We definitely need to do this right now. Do you know how much you humiliated me in front of Damian last night? In front of those people outside of the club?”
He looked my way and tilted his head. His brows lowered, and he cleared his throat. “Did you get my equipment?”
My heart sank as he overlooked my question and went on to the subject of his materialistic items.
He must’ve caught a note of the hurt of him pushing my comments to the side because he quickly stood to his feet. “I’m sorry, Stella. I’m an idiot. I made a complete mess of things last night. I was extremely pumped about the gig I had, and all I could hear in my head was my father’s voice, telling me I wasn’t good enough. That I couldn’t do it. So I had a few drinks to get out of my own head.”
“You know drinking never really helps you.”
“Yeah, but you know”—he tapped the side of his head and shrugged—“Daddy issues and shit. But I’m sorry.” He walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me. “I won’t mess up like this again,” he swore.
“Okay. But the equipment?”
“Can’t I sober up before this conversation continues? I already know you’re going to eat my ass out for it.”
“Just tell me, Jeff.”
“I took out a small loan, all right?”
“What? Why would you do that? We can’t afford—”
“But we can,” he cut in, taking my hands into his. He squeezed them lightly. “I don’t think you understand this, Stella. We’re multimillionaires due to good ole Kevin.”
“That’s only if we make it the six months. Besides, you shouldn’t be taking out loans for things when—”
“Why can’t you be happy for us?!” he shouted, his irritation building second by second. “You’re always praying to your ocean god for help, so when they send it, you can’t even celebrate it.”
I felt a knot forming in my gut. “Please lower your voice.”
“Please stop being so, so, so—”
“So what, Jeff?”
“Like you!” he barked. “You make everything a bigger deal than it actually has to be. It’s fucking exhausting. You’re exhausting, Stella.”
Chills raced down my spine as I looked into his eyes that set with heavy bags beneath them. His words stung, and I was left speechless.
“Is there a problem in here?” a deep voice asked. I turned to find Damian standing there with his broad shoulders and his arms crossed. His focus was on Jeff, and he looked ready to attack.
“Who the hell are you?” Jeff asked.
“I’m Damian, Stella’s roommate.”
Roommate. Husband. Same thing, different terms.
