Page 74 of The Comedown

Julian doesn’t break the connection either when he tells the man, “Merge outta this lane and the next car you’ll see the inside of is a hearse.”

“Please excuse my associate. He has the manners of a feral cat thrown in a bathtub full of water.”

Julian’s head jerks back. “Associate?”

“What’s the matter? Are the drugs kicking in already? Or are you just unfamiliar with the term? If that’s the case, allow me to enlighten you. An associate is a fucking work colleague. That’s. It. It’s just business.”

“What was today?”

“A mistake.”

“Collette.”

I shake my head as I return my stare out the window. As well-intended as my attempt to help Julian was, it was misdirected. There are other, far more deserving people in need of help right now. I should put my efforts there.

I use the rest of the silent ride to send out a few emails. The first to my board of financial advisors asking if my idea is even possible, then one to Sue and the hospital director to get their opinions as well. The last one goes to my producer, David Yonko, who also happens to be my landlord. Holter’s at his house right now, hanging out with David’s son, Tai, so I make sure to send the email to his work address in case he’s busy entertaining the boys. David’s a huge producer in the music industry, but his main priority is family, so he works from his home studio and shapes his hours to fit around his family’s schedule. I can’t think of a better person to co-chair a charity for the children’s hospital with.

The tour buses come into view as soon as the driver pulls into the abandoned mall’s parking lot where we’re parked for the night, and my hand’s already on the door handle.

The moment the town car slows enough, I’m out the door, slamming it shut behind me.

“Collette?” Julian roars, but I ignore him in my dash up my bus’s steps, slamming that door, too…and locking it.

Julian

I can hear the crowd and feel their weird-ass energy as soon as I pull up to the outdoor venue. It’s restless, like mine. I know what my problem is though. I’m about to go out and listen to my associate sing her dumb fucking lyrics about getting railed, knowing she has every intention of actually getting railed afterward. And I’m supposed to keep performing after she walks off to get said railing? I’m supposed to lean on my own dumb fucking lyrics about fucking someone else to make me not think about Collette getting railed?

Fuck. That. Shit.

This day fucking sucks. So does Collette. I hate her and her lyrics and her ditching me to go do who-the-fuck-knows.

Who the fuck cares?

Not me.

The bottle of vodka in my fist knocks my front teeth when I try to take a swig and walk at the same time, and after a long drink, I throw it against the partition keeping me out of view, laughing when glass shatters everywhere.

Someone flinches beside me, and I do a double take, making sure it’s really who I think it is.

When’d she get here? I missed sound check completely—whoops—but I tried to get over here as soon as I could to catch the last of her set. She didn’t finish already, did she?

How late am I?

“You done then?” I ask, but she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t glare at me, threaten me, hit me, nothing. Just full-out ignores me like she did earlier, which makes me hate her even more.

She hates me, too. That’s why we’re fucking perfect for each other.

The king and queen of scorn.

Scorn me,

adorn me,

just don’t fuckin’ ignore me.

God, she’s such a stuck-up bitch. She talks like she isn’t, but she is. I should fuck someone right in front of her just to see if I can get a rise out of her. I think she’d have a pretty hard time ignoring me then. It almost worked at the strip club.

Almost.