Page 152 of The Comedown

Obviously, Bodee’s been keeping track of me—no, spying on me—but for how long? And to what extent?

“You will step down,” Bodee says, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

I’ve always been extremely careful to keep a low profile where my sex life is concerned. Unfortunately, Julian doesn’t even know the concept of low profile. He’s loud, obnoxious, colorful, crazy, fun, and The Family Julez Tour has emulated that to perfection.

“How’d you get these?” I ask, pointing at the lap dance photos. Whoever took them had to have been inside the club that night after Julian paid the bouncers at the front. It was a hefty stack of cash he handed them, too.

“I have friends everywhere, blondie.”

“Can they really be considered friends when you coerce them into compliancy?”

He steals the glass right out of my hand, and takes a swig before shrugging a shoulder, saying, “Those make the best kind of friends.”

So he’s threatening to leak the photos if I don’t turn down The Mousais. Besides the fact that none of them show me technically doing anything overtly sexual, mostly hinting at it, the truth remains, I do like sex. I’m not going to be embarrassed or apologize for it. One of the men in the photos, I’m with now, and Julian wouldn’t be upset at all if these ended up in the tabloids. Some of them are already public anyway.

“Well, as unpleasant as seeing your face at such a close proximity was, I must excuse myself to go do…literally anything else.” I close the folder, then slide it over in front of him. “If you want to leak these, leak them, but I’m not stepping down from The Mousais. I’m not scared of a few slightly scandalous pictures, Bodee. I’ve dealt with, and came back from, far worse. I was married to you after all.”

I’d leak the pictures myself before I let Bodee control me or where my career goes again. At least my demise would be at my own hands for once.

Over the top of my glass, he says, “You know, you’ve changed since you’ve been away. Much more…spirited.”

Away? He makes it sound like I went on a spa retreat for the last fourteen years.

I take my Michelada back and place it on the bar top a little too aggressively. I’m not touching my lips where his were, and he doesn’t deserve my drink. He doesn’t deserve anything from me, including my time.

“If by spirited, you mean I’m a lot harder to break, then yes, I’ve changed,” I say, pushing away from the bar.

“Finally, a challenge worth taking,” he says so calmly, too calmly, before brandishing another folder from behind his back and balancing it on top of my discarded cocktail glass. “You always were a little too sure of yourself.”

I eye the folder, dread filling my gut. What does he have? What did he do?

“Is that why you’ve made it your life’s work to constantly bring me down? I do nothing to you.”

Bodee slides forward, too close for my own comfort, and I have to fight my body’s natural reaction to him for the cameras that are still aimed directly at us. We may not be in earshot, but we are in full view like this.

“Wrong,” he grits between his teeth, his anger getting the better of him as his brown, almost black hair shakes. “You do nothing for me, Collette. You’re a gnat that served her purpose long ago. If you weren’t the mother of my child, I would’ve squashed you the second you walked out my door.”

I can’t hold back my scoff. Oh, that’s where he draws the line? But having his child’s mother raped, that was okay?

“The only reason you’re able to continue to buzz around the globe, performing your pathetic music, is because I allow you to. But I can end it. I can put a stop to the pathetic tours with pathetic ‘musicians’ you’ve managed to procure from the pile of no-names I’ve left for you to dig through.”

It’s no wonder I tour nonstop. It’s an obsession in itself chasing after, then landing someone who’ll actually dare to work with me. Any act big enough to draw Bodee’s attention is out, leaving me with mostly up-and-comers to choose from. I can’t walk away from touring, it’s all I fucking have.

“Now,” he says, collecting himself with a tug on his shirt’s collar. “Open the folder.”

I shake my head. “Fuck you and fuck your orders.”

A commotion behind Bodee has my eyes scanning the crowd, but I can’t see Julian and Holter anymore, only hear them as Holter calls out, “Mom?” making my heart rate spike. He’s so close to this. He’s too close to this.

Julian’s tearing someone a new asshole about not letting him by while Bare’s voice booms the same sentiment, and I can tell they’re both facing off against Bodee’s security team. Bare was merely a pawn in all this. We’re all pawns.

Bodee shrugs like he’s unaffected, but it’s so forced I see right through it. Why is it so hard for him to accept I’m succeeding? Why does it even matter anymore?

“Don’t open it, and we’ll let Holter see what’s inside.”

I smack the folder off the glass, causing it to fall open. All I see, all I need to see, is Julian holding a rolled up hundred-dollar bill to his nose, and judging by the blue tips in his hair, it was taken during this tour. Every person within Julian’s orbit has signed an ironclad NDA for this exact reason, so pictures like this don’t make the gossip circuits.

I don’t bother asking how Bodee got these because he’d give the same vague answer. I only stare at the face of the man who I wish was by my side right now.