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“You wouldn’t be lying about how busy you are to avoid your job, would you?”
“Fuck off, Jameson.”
He sighed. “Look, I know we don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but—”
“But nothing. You and me, we’re not the same by any stretch of the imagination. This co-write is a stupid fucking idea. I don’t even like your music.”
His eyes flared. “That’s too bad. You’re stuck with me, unless you want to throw in the towel and shovel shit for the rest of your life.”
“I don’t need you to make it.”
“You probably don’t. But this is what we’ve got. Your band ditched you, a stupid move on their part, but it’s what happened.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, I do. I spent my time doing research about you last night. You can learn a whole hell of a lot about a situation on social media these days. The theories fans have are wild.”
Dread crept up my spine. My stomach churned. I’d stayed away from most social media. Especially after the band broke up.
“Oh, yeah? And what did you piece together, Sherlock?”
He leaned against one of the stall doors, sipping his coffee and wincing a little as the temperature burned him, too. Good. I hoped it hurt.
“Your band couldn’t take it when you became Killian Wilde. They knew you didn’t need them, and their egos got the better of them. Biggest mistake of their lives right there. Those three don’t have what you have.”
Gritting my teeth, I opened the tack room door and stepped inside, grabbing a pair of work gloves for each of us.
“And what’s that?”
“Presence. I watched you on stage. When you performed that solo song at Red Rocks, the crowd went fucking nuts. Something magic happened up there. It was probably the final nail in the coffin for them, honestly.”
“So, you’re saying it is all my fault?”
He shrugged, the infuriating man. “I’m saying, if you’re going to be who you’re meant to be, you can’t let jealousy weigh you down. They either rise with you or get left in the dust.”
“Wow, you must be real loyal to your friends.”
“I’m just a realist. I have friends. I also have enemies. You can’t be in this business without both.”
A brown muzzle poked through the bars behind him and knocked his hat off his head.
“Hey, what the fuck?”
I laughed. “That would be Luke’s favorite horse, Turbo.”
“He’s a menace.”
“Yeah, he is. He likes to play dead too. I think we’ll get you up on him first.”
Jamie arched one eyebrow. “You trying to get me killed? He clearly has it out for me.”
“Nah, he’s a big softie. We put all the old farts and kids on him because of it.”
“Well, I’m not a kid.”
“Guess that makes you an old fart.”
He held out his hand. “Give me the gloves and that fucking shovel. I’ll show you just how old I am.”
