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I don’t tell her that I have seen it because Geoff briefly dated one of the supporting actresses and made us watch the entire run of the series on the tour bus a few years ago. Because she doesn’t know a goddamn thing about that side of my life. I need her to know. But I can’t tell here, not in front of her friend.
I also can’t say no to her. Not when it’s obvious spending time with this Marci girl is important to her.
“Flores?” A deep voice I haven’t heard in years echoes down from the stairwell.
“Othon?” My eyes damn near fall from my head when the giant man I’d spent many an afternoon getting baked with back in the day comes down the hall holding huge bags of what looks like Chinese food.
Before I can recover, Micah is placing the bags on the floor and pulling me into a back-slapping hug. “Fuck, man. I haven’t seen you since Malfeesance went on their first world tour. How the hell have you been? When the fuck did you chop off all your hair?”
I cringe, knowing Lacy just heard all that, and the jig is up.
“I knew you looked familiar. Micah showed me all his old photos from when he hung out with you guys. But you do look so different without all that long hair.” Marci comes out into the hall with us, bumping Lacy’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell me the Scott you’ve been seeing is a rock star. Wow, you really have changed, Lace.”
“Wait, a rock star? What the hell are you talking about? Scott is a studio artist barely scraping by. That’s why he has to renovate his place himself.” Awkward silence fills the space around us as Lacy looks from Marci, to me, to Micah. “Right?”
My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. I need to explain, tell her I was just scared. But the fear of revealing myself these past few weeks is nothing to the fear of how Lacy is going to react to my lying to her for weeks.
“Lace,” Marci leans closer to her friend and whispers as if we all can’t still hear her words. “Scott is the lead guitarist for the band Malfeesance. He’s won Grammys. Played around the world. He’s probably got more money than you do.” Marci says the words gently as if she knows the truth is going to sting, so lowering her voice might soften the blow.
“You’re famous?” Those beautiful brown eyes of hers look at me with such disappointment and sadness, I want to rewind time to that first night and tell her then.
But I also don’t, because the last few weeks just being Scott and Lacy, with no pretense, have been the best days of my life. “I can explain.”
“You can explain why you’ve been lying to me for weeks, hell over a month? When you are the only person I thought I could trust? Please do explain that.” I stand there with my mouth opening and closing. Justifications rush up, and I slam them back down before they can tumble from my mouth.
“Lace, do you want to stay here for a while?” Marci rubs her friend’s back, and I want to snatch my girl away and carry her back home. To our home.
Glancing over to Micah, I can see he is not much fonder of the idea.
“Thanks, Marci. I’ll be fine.” Lacy turns to her friend and my old high school buddy, which is just weird as all hell. “Sorry about all the drama I’ve quite literally brought to your doorstep.”
Marci smiles, pulling her friend in for a hug. “I’m glad you came over. We’ll talk later this week. If you need anything”—Marci shoots me a death stare— “I’m here. We’ll figure it all out.”
I shake Micah’s hand and promise to give him a call to catch up, then before I know it, we’re in the Uber I had waiting downstairs. Silence isn’t something I’m used to experiencing from Lacy. She doesn’t do the silent treatment. Under normal circumstances, she’d be yelling and stomping, slapping those glorious thighs of hers. I’d give anything for one of her tantrums right now, because this, the quiet sadness radiating from her right now, is killing me.
“I’m honestly kinda surprised you never tried to Google me. Isn’t that standard operating procedure nowadays?” My attemptat a joke falls flat as Lacy slowly swings her angry brown eyes around to glare at me.
“I figured if you were someone important, I would already know who you are.” She turns back to stare out the window.
“Right.” It’s killing me not to reach over and pull her into my lap. Everything about her closed-off posture and expression is telling me to stay to my side of the car though. Thankfully, it’s a short drive to the apartment, and in no time, we’re back home.
The second we’re back in the place, Lacy stomps up the spiral staircase to the loft and into the closet. Slowly, I follow her up. Eyes going wide, I watch as she throws every single piece of the clothing she’s been collecting since living here onto the bed. I haven’t paid for a single one. I offered. She refused. How could I have thought the fact I have money would change things?
Wait. Is she packing?
Oh, hell no!
“You aren’t leaving,” I say calmly, but the danger in my voice is unmistakable. Crossing to the bed, I pick up the pile of dresses she just flung from the closet and take them back in to rehang.
“What are you doing?” Lacy screeches, stomps her foot and slaps her thighs.
My goddamn cock is trained to harden at the first hint of her little tantrums and begins to length in my jeans.
Not the time, dude.
“I’m putting your fucking clothes back in our fucking closet because you are not moving out. You belong here. With me.” She takes the clothes from me, I swear growling a little when I don’t immediately relinquish my hold on them.
“You think I’m packing?” Lacy laughs, but there is sadness and anger still simmering just beneath the sound. “Oh no, buddy. You aren’t getting rid of me that easy.”
