DeWitt’s phone dinged.
“You should get that,” I said, allowing myself a small smile.
He reached for his phone and pulled up the message. His eyes widened, and he bent at the waist, vomiting into his fancy trash can.
Sending a picture of Chase’s amputated pinky had been DB’s idea, and it was a nice touch.
A tiny part of me hoped that DeWitt took me seriously. The rest of me, however, wanted him to test the waters. He had intentionally run Hendrix into the ground, and I wouldn’t think twice about having him spend a little time with Anders.
“As you can see, Mr. DeWitt, this is no joke. And I’m sure we can do better than this afternoon. If I don’t see the paperworkreleasing Hendrix from his contract by lunchtime, I’ll arrange for you to receive a very different kind of visit.”
On that note, I walked out of his office, feeling like a badass. As I made my way to the elevators, my boss exited a bathroom on the same hallway.
“You had way too much fun with that,” DB said, laughing at me.
I removed the lapel pin he’d given me that morning and handed it over, returning the bit of spy tech to its rightful owner. “That man has been terrorizing queer kids for decades. Fuck him.”
“I’m telling you, you have a talent for this work. If you ever want to get out from behind the computer, just let me know.”
“I have a punk god to care for, DB. I simply don’t have the time.”
He grinned, fist-bumped me, and walked off in the opposite direction.
CHAPTER 23
hendrix
Sawyer and I found seats in Seguin’s newest downtown offering, a gourmet hot dog restaurant. This spot had been made possible by a grant from the Syrup project and was run by a local queer guy with a wiener and a dream. The hot dogs were delicious, but Sawyer looked happier than a dinner out should warrant.
“What’s this whole face about?” I asked, gesturing in a circle.
He was wearing a suit, which I always appreciated, though I was glad he no longer wore them all the time. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a white envelope, and slid it across the table to me.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
I slid my finger under the flap and withdrew a folded sheet of paper.
“More documentation will follow, but this is the important one,” he said, way too proud of himself.
I opened up the page and saw that it was from the desk of Richard DeWitt, DeWitt Enterprises. I flicked my eyes to Sawyer’s, and he lifted his chin.
“Read it.”
Dear Mr. Cavanaugh,
This is to inform you that you have satisfied the requirements of your contract and are no longer under contract with Big Music. These contract adjustments apply to Sago Torres and Robert Sparks as well. Your remaining seven tour dates have been canceled, and the profits from the completed tour dates have been split equally, per the language of the contract, between the three band members.
This concludes our business in its entirety. Please contact my lawyer directly should you have any questions.
Sincerely,
Richard DeWitt
I read the words again, not quite believing them. Then I looked at Sawyer. “What did you do?”
He rubbed his hands together. “Maybe it’s best not to ask too many questions.”
