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“IN MY DEFENSE, I don’t think he cried.” I raise my hands in mock self-defense when addressing Bret.
“What are you talking about?” Bret looks at me quizzically.
“Oh, um, nothing.” I turn away from him and sign in at the reception desk. I’m not sure if Peter is coming back today, but I need to work on my own songs either way.
“Mia?” Bret says my name sternly, and I grimace as I turn around to face him.
“How is Lisa?” I brightly ask, trying to change the subject and mention the woman Bret has been dating seriously. I met her recently when she stopped by to pick him up for lunch.
“Do not deflect. I know you way to well.” He pierces me with a gaze.
“What?” I say innocently, hefting my bag over my shoulder as I walk down the long hallway to the studio.
“What did you do to Peter?” He trails after me, his Vans squeaking on the cheap linoleum, alerting me of how close he is behind me.
I stop at the door and turn to face him. “Peter’s a big boy. I’m meeting him today to get some work done.” Hopefully, I say under my breath.
“What was that?” he demands and cocks an eyebrow.
“Shit, did I say that last part out loud?” I open the door and burst inside, throwing my bag down on the coffee table, the contents partially spilling out.
“Please tell me you did not scare him off!” Bret asks, scratching his head. “And I realize what a ridiculous statement that is while looking at you.” He mimics the height difference.
“Hey!” I say, offended. What I lack in height I make up for in attitude.
“But you can be very scary when you want to be, so I wouldn’t be surprised,” Bret finishes his statement and I nod appreciatively.
“I need coffee. I forgot to stop on my way in.” I brush past Bret and he follows me to the break room. “Consider me having to consume break room coffee as my punishment.” I grimace as I take a sip, pouring an extra spoonful of sugar in to take away the bitterness.
Bret groans. “You’re going to take a year off my life expectancy,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of seriousness in there.
“You are so dramatic.” I jut my hip to the side, resting it against the counter. I notice a coffee ring stain next to me and I snap a picture.
“Do I want to know why you’re taking a picture of that?” Bret looks at me skeptically.
“It’s for Wade. He has this weird thing with coffee ring stains. It gives him the hives.” I send the picture to Wade.
“So you’re sending him a picture of the very thing that bothers him so much?” He raises an eyebrow at me in question.
“Duh.” Sometimes I think he doesn’t understand the weird relationship Wade and I have.
Bret shakes his head and laughs. Before he leaves the break room, he turns back and says in a serious tone, “Peter better show up today.” I guess he’s more perceptive than I gave him credit for.
I gulp. “Noted.” I give him a salute that turns into the middle finger as soon as he turns his back.
When I head into the studio I’m relieved to find Peter, but when I see what’s in his hands, heat travels up my neck and into my face.
“What the fuck?” I snatch my notebook from him.
Peter gives me a fake smile. “What? So you can dig into my personal life but I can’t dig into yours?” I want to smack his cocky grin. Everyone in the fucking world knows about my personal life, I scream on the inside. But that notebook is just for me.
“I’m not the one whose last album tanked and need someone to help revive my career.” The words come out of my mouth faster than what my brain can register. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but seeing him with my notebook rattled me.
“I don’t fucking need your help,” Peter denies, kicking the table with his boot.
“Could have fooled me.” I don’t quit while I’m ahead, and Peter is getting more upset.
“I know all about you,” he says, pointing a finger at me accusatorially.
