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His gaze follows the movement before returning to my face.
Then Cal exhales and looks away, breaking whatever dangerous little thing just formed between us.
“I’m messing with you,” he says, although his voice is rougher now. “You don’t need to do me for the creative process.”
I clear my throat. “So, apart from sex?”
“Friends. Movies. Seeing other bands play. Going somewhere new.” He rubs a hand over his jaw. “Anything that catches me off guard, I guess. Something I didn’t know I needed until it’s happening.”
An idea sparks.
I sit up straighter.
“I know exactly what you need.”
Cal looks at me, then deliberately lets his gaze travel down my body and back up.
My stomach flips.
“No,” I say. “Not that. I’ll text you details.”
His disappointment is immediate and completely theatrical.
“Shame.”
I laugh, but something small and reckless inside me sinks. Maybe, a small, tiny, miniscule part of me wanted his disappointment to be real.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cal
Iwalk to The Crane because I’m not sure how many drinks I’ll be having tonight and I don’t want to leave Sheila in town. A few minutes in, and I am regretting my decision to not wear something warmer.
Mountain Springs in February is fucking brutal. The cold cuts straight through my jacket, and I shove one hand deeper into my pocket.
Danny calls. I answer mostly because arguing with him will distract me from losing feeling in my hands.
He gets three sentences into the conversation before bringing up Apex again.
“A couple of public dates with Violet Marlowe would make the whole negotiation easier. She’s in Denver for a show tomorrow. How about you do your first public appearance? She wants to meet you for advice on her album anyway.”
“Still not happening.”
“You’d have to eat dinner with a beautiful woman. Stop being such a diva.”
“Then send her your number.”
“My face doesn’t sell records.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure it would sell one. Surely your mother would buy it?”
“My mother is dead. Good riddance, the bitch.” Ouch. “Your drummer’s been taking sessions, by the way,” Danny says. “Studio work. Filling in here and there. Nothing major.”
My grip tightens around the phone.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Thought you’d want to know.”
