I’m confused.
It should be a media circus—cameras and reporters everywhere, Tillie floundering, not knowing what to say—but instead, everyone’s leaving, and there’s nothing.
What the fuck?
I get out of my car and walk up to her as she says her final farewell to the last reporter. She’s smiling and looking calm and collected. Not the frazzled, crying mess I was expecting.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“I told them all you’re working on your health. You’ve started a fitness regime, and your diabetes is off the radar. Your blood pressure is under control, and your fatty liver is being managed with diet, exercise, and no alcohol. The band is behind you one hundred percent and helping you with your new lifestyle. Oh, and every Wednesday, we’ll be posting progress reports on your achievements, including clips of you practicing yoga to center your energy and tone your body.”
I scoff. “You what?”
“Your fans are signing up for a subscription calledRecovery of Ryan. We already have two thousand people on board, Ryan, so we can’t let them down, can we?”
“Here you go, off on one of your tangents again, doing stuff without our permission.”
She shrugs. “The rest of the band said yes. So majority rules.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”
Her lips curl into a smile, but there’s a sharpness in her eyes—a hint of sarcasm hidden behind the sweetness. “Nope. And seeing as it’s Wednesday, our first post is going live today when I take you to yoga and live stream it.”
“You can’t make me do this, Tillie!”
“No… I can’t, but like I said, we already have fans signing up to witness your transformation. You don’t want to disappoint your fans now,do you?”
“You’re a witch, Tillie Marks,” I state and storm past her.
“So, I have you under my spell then, Ryan?” She giggles.
“Not. Fucking. Likely!” I hoof it inside, leaving her giggling behind me.
This was supposed to test her skills, not backfire, and turn it around on me.
Fuck!
She is good.
Too damn good.
When I walk inside and head to the kitchen, I find Nate making coffee.
He looks at me and smirks. “Tillie certainly owned you.”
I huff. “Yeah, maybe she did this time. But don’t you worry, I’m gonna get her back. Just wait and see.”
Nate snorts. “Man, you two together are hilarious. A great source of entertainment. Keep it up. I’m loving the back and forth between you two.”
“Fuck off, Nate. Go find someone else to piss off.”
He frowns. “Wow! You’re so fucking grumpy. What’s got up your ass and died? What happened to the usual guy running around in his briefs, yelling and laughing at the world? Where’s that guy gone?” he asks, and I wonder the same thing.
“I don’t know, man… I don’t know.” I turn and walk out without a coffee and head to the place that always clears my mind—the fire escape.
Making my way to the rooftop eases my nerves.
Just by opening the door and letting the sun’s rays beam down on my face, I feel like I can breathe again. I’m so on edge lately, and I don’t know why. Yes, Tillie being here is annoying, but there’s more to it. I just don’t know what yet.
