Page 531 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

I try to pretend this dread is bass⁠—

this doom is boom.

I reach behind me,

gripping the back of his neck,

my hips rolling slow.

His mouth ghosts my throat, then my ear as the song turns obscene, “Rich Baby Daddy” pounding through the speakers.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes hot, rough.

He grips my hip, holding me as I grind back into him, the whole rooftop disappearing around us.

// 10:45 PM //

Seven of us end up back on the Deck of Death around the fire pit, the music low as a server takes our drink orders, a black tray tucked against her hip. “You?”

“I’m good,” Andrew says from the corner of the couch.

Ty hooks a thumb toward the bar behind him. “You sure, bro? We got a premium bar.”

Andrew lifts two fingers.

“Yeah, nah. Don’t really drink.”

From the fire pit glass, Linc lifts his rocks glass, ginger ale glowing whiskey-gold. “Respect. One year sober over here.”

Ty raises his glass from where he’s sprawled across the couch, his head in Kate’s lap. “Soda water. Goin’ on four years.”

Andrew looks between both of them.

“Damn,” he says, impressed.

“Good for you guys. For real.”

“Thanks.” Ty lifts his eyes to Kate, the reason he’d changed his whole life around. “Label hates it. Harder to rob a man who remembers shit.”

Linc eyes his brother from the fire pit.

“You know the dumbest part?”

Ty sighs. “Please don’t start.”

Linc starts—“You don’t need them anymore.” Linc’s pointing at Ty with two fingers around his drink. “Bro, you got the money. You got the studio. You got the following.” He grins, like—c’mon now. “You post a black square, no caption, and people show up.”

“Yeah,” Ty answers. “And one bad play, shit falls apart.”

“Signed doesn’t mean safe,” Linc says.

Roxie nods. “Bianca Vega was signed. Look how that worked out.”

My eyes slip to the ground,

staring blankly at my heels,

like if they see my face,