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“Why bother getting to know me?”
Reed sits down on the arm of the couch, his flat stomach barely crinkling at all with how lean he is. He looks so big and imposing in my tiny apartment. I know I should look away, but my eyes have other ideas.
They roam over his inked flesh like they’ve never seen a man before. Well, let’s face it, they definitely haven’t seen anything like Reed before. I always thought Dean had a decent body from all the football training he does, but Dean’s body is nothing compared to Reed’s body.
Reed Devlin is all male.
There’s a tight scowl on his face, and I wonder if he’s having trouble thinking with just how crowded it is in here. “How do you plan on getting your car back?” he suddenly asks.
“It’ll have to wait until after I’ve paid my rent.”
“How do you plan on paying your rent?”
“I’ve got work coming up. I’ll get paid.”
“How do you plan on getting to work without a car?”
“I guess I’ll just have to take the subway.”
“What have you got booked? Gig wise, I mean.”
Geez. What is this, twenty questions?
I stare back at him. Paranoia swarms through me, making me feel a little giddy. Is he just asking out of polite conversation, a mild interest in what I’m doing musically? Or does he have an ulterior motive? I don’t know this guy from a bar of soap, so I shouldn’t trust him.
Right?
That would be the safest move, the smart choice. But no one has ever accused me of either of those things, so I say, “I’ve got a few jobs lined up. I’m singing at a private function this afternoon, a fiftieth birthday. I’ve got a restaurant booking for Saturday night. And Sunday, I have a gig at the Zion Club. The guys are a little handsy over there, but the pay’s good.”
“Why do you book such shitty gigs?”
I’m a little offended and also a little defensive. “They’re not that bad.”
“Yes, they are,” he snorts. And then he scoffs. “You shouldn’t have to put up with guys touching you or making lewd comments at you just to earn a living.”
“I agree. But you know how it is, just waiting for my big break.” I laugh with a derisive tone, because come on, we both know he’s worth millions, and I’m not worth anywhere even close to that.
I’m actually worthless.Wow.
That sudden realization stings a little.
“Or maybe you don’t know how it is? When was the last time you couldn’t afford your rent? Ha! When’s the last time you even had topayrent?”
I don’t know why I’m taking this out on him, but whatever.
Reed doesn’t respond. He mumbles a few things under his breath, but he says them so softly he almost sounds like he’s talking to himself and not to me at all. He looks torn all of a sudden, like his mind is in two places at once. Like he can’t seem to decide which side of the coin he’s hoping for at the toss or which way is up anymore.
Eventually he meets my eyes. “I guess it’s been a while,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t remember what it’s like to struggle. You think I don’t remember what it feels like living gig to gig, paycheck to paycheck, because I do. Things haven’t always been like this for me. I’ve worked my ass off for everything I own, and I’m not going to apologize for that.”
Sometimes my tongue has a mind of its own, my words the only weapons I own. I regret speaking to him in such a judgmental way, and I should just learn to shut my mouth.
But hey, where’s the fun in that?
Reed Devlin eventually leaves my apartment.
I watch through the front window as he jogs back across the parking lot toward his big, black Jeep. The lights flash orange when he pushes the remote. It beeps twice, and then he climbs up inside and kicks the engine over. Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, he hesitates for a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
He looks to have a headache. Or maybe it’s something else altogether?
