Page 306 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

The coffee drips into the pot.

He shifts,

crossing his arms over his chest,

looking down.

The silence stretches.

He clears his throat.

“Don't forget your jacket today.

“Says it’s gonna be low of 38⁠—”

I groan. “I suck at business stuff,” I burst out, lifting the lid on all this pressure that’s built up inside me. “I’m talkin’ paperwork, contracts, budgets, assets, liabilities, profit margins, investments⁠—”

“You sure know all the trigger words,”

he mumbles, playful.

I look at him,

arm falling to the table, annoyed.

“Like, what even is a shareholder?”

“A shareholder is someone⁠—”

“I don’t care, Drew. That’s my point.

“I don’t know. And I don’t care.”

I can’t believe I’m even getting into this with him.

I don’t talk to anyone about this.

“I just care about the artists. The music. But if I don’t get my shit together for this board meeting today? If I don’t go in there and kill it? The board will look at me like I’m a joke. Raymond’s title of CEO will become permanent, and I’ll lose the label.”

The machine beeps, and he kicks off the counter. “What’d be so bad about him runnin’ it?” He lifts a brow as he turns to the machine. “All I’m sayin’ is if you don’t care about none of that shit, why not focus on the music then? You do you, what makes you sane, and let him worry about all the CEO shit?”

“Because,” I grit out, “he’s a fuckin’ snake. He can’t be trusted. He’d stab you with your own knife, then ask why the fuck you bleedin’ all over his floor. He doesn’t care about the artists or the music. He only cares about the money. Do I need to keep going?”

He’s standing frozen,

mug raised halfway to his mouth.

“So Everybody Hates Raymond.”

My deadpan gaze falls on him.

“…A dad joke? Really?”

He shrugs. “Just slipped out.”

“Embarrassing.”

He sucks in a breath. “Little bit.”