And then I turn, stand, and point straight at Jeremiah.
“You motherfucker,” I growl so loud, it breaks into a yell. “Shut your fucking mouth when you’re talking to my boyfriend!”
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, dick!” Jeremiah yells back.
I’m so angry I’m shaking, but when I see Matty, I totally boil over. His face is pink and sweaty, and there’s anxiety strung through his eyes. All of his limbs and muscles are scrunched in, like he’s trying to protect himself, to become less vulnerable.
Jeremiah did this. It’s one thing for him to mess with me, but to mess with Matty?
“I’ll tell you who I’m talking to,” I answer, striding forward as I rear my arm back. It’s been a few years since I got in a proper fight, a bad habit I’ve tried to break, but I’m ready for anything this prick throws at me. “I’m talking to the biggest, smelliest, ugliest—”
“Both of you!” Caesar’s voice barks out. “Here, now!”
I freeze with my fist reared back and my heart thudding in my ears. Jeremiah glares at me like I’m a piece of shit he’s ready to stomp on, and when I glance back and see my client, frightened in her chair, I feel that way, too.
Oh fuck.
I try to catch Matty’s eye, but he’s talking to Billie, who is thankfully taking care of him. My stomach twisting, I slink over to Caesar, who stares at us with fire in his pupils.
“You’re both off your chairs today,” he says through gritted teeth.
“What?” Jeremiah objects. “I’ve got appointments all afternoon.”
Caesar’s eyes widen as he glares between us. “You’re. Both. Off. Your. Fucking. Chairs.”
His voice is terrifying, like thunder crashing in my skull. “I’m real sorry,” I say, but before I can get a proper apology out, he turns and storms away.
I feel sick to my stomach. I’ve hurt the shop and disappointed Caesar, and I probably just blew any chance I had of making it in this industry.
“You’re dead,” Jeremiah growls, looming over me.
I look up and hold his eye to show him I’m not scared. We stand like that for a minute, glaring at each other, until we both turn away.
When I get back to my booth, I see that Billie is finishing up the flash. Appropriately humiliated, I hurry over to apologize to the client, then find Matty. He’s waiting anxiously off to the side, his hands shoved in his pockets just like mine are.
Seeing him like that causes a storm of emotions to roil through me. I’m pissed at Jeremiah again and disappointed in myself, dejected that I couldn’t keep Matty safe.
But mainly, I just want to pull him in my arms.
At least that would make things feel a whole hell of a lot better.
“Sorry,” I say as I step by his side. “You okay?”
He glances up to me. There’s still pain on his expression, but he nods quickly. “Yeah, I’m okay now.”
I let out a breath. Even if he’s just lying to make me feel better, hearing his voice helps, and I extend my arms to take him into an embrace.
Matty relaxes against me, his tension easing as the sweet, coconut scent of his shampoo hits my nose.
I stroke my fingers gently down the back of his head. “I could use some air. Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
Out the back of the convention center, an open lot is being used to stage some bands. As soon as Matty and I get out in the crisp air, I grab us each a beer from the bar. Away from the booth, I’m finally able to relax a little and shake off some of the anger.
I hand Matty his plastic cup. “How bad was Jeremiah? I only heard some of it.”
Matty lays his hands on my chest. “Jeremiah issuchanasshole,” he answers, drawing the words out. “How do you handle him every day?”
