“Yeah, I’ll stay put. Don’t worry. You can head home.” From out of the glossy double fridge, Adam retrieved two beers and set them on the white stone countertop. The rest of the kitchen was navy. Very dramatic.
On silent feet, Bon exited the apartment, locking the front door behind him.
“This sure is a change from my crappy little apartment.” I took the beer he offered, taking a long gulp. My throat was still itchy from the totally unnecessary tears. “You must love it here.”
He shrugged.
“Did you buy it already decorated?”
“Yeah. Some financier asshole lived here last.” He sprawled out on the white couch. “Pretty sure Mal annoyed the dude into moving. None of them liked him. Apparently, he complained about the bodyguards coming and going, the fans out front, and all that.”
“Guess it would take some getting used to.”
He took a swig of his beer.
“Are we going to talk about the check?” I asked, slipping into one of the armchairs. Very comfy. “I think we should.”
“What’s there to say? You deserve the money, Jill. As far as I’m concerned, you earned it.”
“Adam—”
“No one
supported me and my music like you did. Showing up for every gig you could, helping to lug equipment, giving me space to write my songs.” He stared out a window at the lights of the Pearl District. “Even if it was too much for you in the end…”
I downed some beer. The less said about ye olde days, the better. It would only lead to more fights. And what was even the point of rehashing the past yet again?
His sneaker tapped out a beat against the floor and he pulled out his cell. Soon enough, Howlin’ Wolf played over the sound system. Blues had always been his go-to when stressed. “Too damn quiet in here.”
“Is that why you go out all the time?” I crossed my legs, waving my foot in the air. Guess we were both a little wired. “Heard Martha say something about it when you got in the car. And then there’s the tea being served in mighty amounts. Did you really trash a hotel room? Isn’t that a bit clichéd?”
“Everything worth doing eventually becomes a cliché.” He put the beer to his lips again. “So you are keeping tabs on me.”
“I don’t need to. Certain people are only too happy to tell me everything and anything when it comes to you.” I stared at the wall. “You should have seen the messages I received when you were photographed with that model, Mae Cooper.”
He snorted. “She’s a neighbor.”
“How handy.”
“She’s also engaged to Bon’s brother. Who’s almost as intimidating as Bon is. Not a family you want to mess with.”
I paused. “Oh.”
He just watched me.
“What?” I snapped.
A small amused smile curled his lips. “Not like you to be jealous.”
“Go fuck yourself.” I set my beer and the check down on the coffee table, hauled my ass out of the chair and made for the door. Stupid. I was so breathtakingly stupid. With a bit of work, I could have found an address for Martha and just mailed the damn money to her. She’d have passed it on to him. But no. I had to see the big jerkwad for myself. “This is getting us nowhere. I never should have come.”
My fingers no sooner gripped the doorknob than he was there, hands flat against the front door, blocking my exit. I looked up and growled. “Move, Adam.”
“Go pick up the check.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Yes, you do. You dumped me over money.”