He put the piece of paper into my hand.
“That’s got my number on it,” he said. “I know you don’t want that. The other number is what you really want. Look at that and make a decision. Then text me. I’ll give you until tomorrow.”
“Oh, so you’re a fucking hero now?” I asked.
“No. I hope I don’t hear from you, honey.”
“Fuck you, Reed.”
He nodded. “It’s nice to see you too.”
“You just gave me your number,” I said. “Who’s to say I won’t post it online?”
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll just change the number. Or maybe I’ll use some of that rock star cash I have hanging around and get a lawyer and ruin your life.”
“You’ve already done that.”
“Hey, if you decide not to take the gig, I’ll book an appointment so you and your quartet can come sing to the guys. Can you do that? Sing something like so sorry but in a sliding harmony?”
I opened the door to the building and finally went inside.
I stood there for a minute.
When I peeked back outside, Reed’s car was gone.
I looked at the piece of paper and quickly closed my fist.
It was a lot of money on the table.
To go into the studio, sing a song, and then leave.
That was it.
I walked to the apartment and opened the door to find Valerie in her bra and panties, butt in the air, head upside down, looking at me from between her legs.
“Hey, Abby,” she said. “I’m just stretching my back out.”
I had nothing to say to that.
I walked around her and blinked really fast, hoping the image of what I had just seen would go away.
“Oh, Abby, before I forget,” Valerie called out. “Someone else called for you. Don’t you tell people your cell phone number?”
I looked at the table.
It wasn’t Clementine that called me this time.
It was Harriet.
Another fake name.
But a real reason to call me.
I looked back at Valerie. She bent her legs and threw her head back. There were parts and skin that was twisted and sagged that I never wanted to see ever in my life.
I opened my hand and unfolded the piece of paper.
I looked at both numbers.
Reed’s cell number.
And the number with the dollar sign in front of it.
I shut my eyes.
I already knew what I had to do.
My phone started to ring.
Reed told me to text him.
So I did.
And now he called me.
That was him being an asshole.
As usual.
“Reed,” I said.
“So you’re in?”
“I want the exposure,” I said.
“And the money.”
“Who doesn’t want money?”
“I’m not judging you for it,” he said. “Money is great.”
“You told me to text,” I said. “Why are you calling?”
“My hands are a little full,” he said with a laugh.
In the background I could hear music playing.
I heard the occasional voice.
“No, no, no, honey, don’t leave yet,” he said.
“What?”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Abby,” he said.
“Is that your girlfriend or wife?” a voice asked Reed.
“Are you serious?” I asked. “You have some whore with you and you call me?”
“She’s a Line Whore,” Reed said. “There’s a big difference.” Then he groaned. “Fuck, right there, honey. Just stay right there.”
“Goodbye, Reed.”
“Don’t hang up,” he said. “You need to know where to meet the band.”
“I know where the studio is.”
“We’re not going to the studio.”
“What?”
“We have to run through the song a… ahhhh… a little bit.”
I gritted my teeth. “What is she doing to you right now?”
Reed laughed. “You want to know? You want to be part of this?”
“Sorry I asked,” I said. “I’m hanging up.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Forget it then, Reed. I’m not going to play games.”
“I’m not playing a game,” he said. “You bothered me. I was in the middle of something.”
“You told me to text you.”
“I didn’t think you were going to go for it. Everything okay in life?”
I laughed. “Fuck you, Reed. You’re not saving me. It’s not like it was before. I want the money. I want my name on the song. I want to be paid every time it gets played.”
“And the live shows?”
“What?”
“The lives shows, honey,” he said. “You’ll get paid for those too.”
“Live… I didn’t realize…”
“I’ll text you the address to our practice space,” he said. “I better go. If I come while on the phone with you, it’ll be like we hooked up again. No need to make that mistake one more time, right?”
The call went dead before I could tell him to go fuck himself.
I put my phone next to me on the bed.
I pictured Reed in his house. Sitting in a chair. With women and music, booze and drugs everywhere. With some woman on her knees, her mouth on his…
And I was in my crammed bedroom.
Alone.
He did this to me.
“Live shows,” I whispered.
I hadn’t realized that was part of the gig.
Did that mean going on tour? Did that mean being on a tour bus with Reed again?
If so, that was a deal breaker for me.
Last time I did the whole tour bus thing, I ended up on the side of the road in the middle of the night. Stranded with nothing but a little bit of money in my pocket.
That was supposed to be the end of Reed and I.
But the band went on to become bigger by the day.
I had to hear the songs. See the videos. Get offered to go see them live.
It was in my face, all the time.
I could still turn the offer down.
That would mean dressing up in pinstripes or as a princess or in a costume… singing for… what? Most of the time it was just a big joke to those paying for the entertainment. It would mean coming back home to Valerie. She was a sweetheart of a woman, but the bra and panties stretching was going to make me lose my eyesight.
And that was nothing compared to the phone calls.
The random texts.
The laughter at the other end of the phone line.
My darkest secret in life.
The dollar amount on the piece of paper Reed gave me would be a hell of a start.
Being near Reed could end up making things worse.
Or maybe I could finally get my revenge on him.
I could hit him where it hurt.
I could leave him on the side of the road.
I fell back to my bed and shut my eyes.
My phone notified me of a text message.
It was from Reed.
The address where the band practiced.
He wanted me there around noon.
Then he sent another text.
Bring coffee and pills… we’re all going to need it.
I put my middle finger to the screen.