Page 14 of The Comedown

“They’ll be called fish food if you ever touch me again because I’ll be throwing the pieces off the fucking pier after I’m done carving them from your hand. Got it?”

We hold each other’s stare, nothing else around us registering until Julez calls out, “Ayo, Collette, let’s go!” from across the lobby.

I break the connection to glance at my tour mate standing in the open doorway. “Where?”

“Far from here,” he echoes my words from last night.

Far from here sounds good right about now. And in a McLaren Spider? Even better.

Ignoring all the stares and flashes around us, I approach him, asking, “Is that yours?” while gesturing out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He holds out his hand for me again, saying, “I just bought a couple days with it,” but I sidestep both him and the doorman to go outside.

So that’s what he was doing—trading, essentially. Whatever company loaned it to him did so in exchange for the photos he just provided them with.

Julez catches up to me easily, opening the passenger door by lifting the scissor-style door not only up but also outward, and I climb inside the low-to-the-ground car, trying to keep a hand in front of my crotch. Once again Julez takes matters into his own hands by perching down in front of me, blocking my lap with his body.

“Good?” he asks, and I roll my eyes even though I do find it cute. Annoying, but cute.

Alone inside, I admire the sleek, minimalistic interior, rubbing my hands over the smooth surfaces. Sexy, sexy.

Finally seated in the driver’s side, Julez asks, “What was that in there?” and using my most practiced voice, I question, “What was what?”

“With Slade.”

I tear my eyes from the leather dashboard to look between his.

“I took care of it myself, so why do you care?”

“Stop asking me that,” he snaps.

If he cares?

“I just…fucking do.”

If that were true, he wouldn’t have the kind of man he feels the need to question around, now would he?

Sadly, I already know the answer.

“What’d he say to you?”

I sigh, relaxing into the seat that could fit a racecar.

“Nothing worth repeating.” It’s not like I can anyway.

“Want the top down?” he asks, and I grin so hard my cheeks hurt.

“Absolutely not.” I can only imagine what would happen to my hair.

With a push of a button on the center console, the McLaren rumbles to life beneath us, making it hard to make out Julez saying, “I shouldn’t have left you with him.”

“Slade?”

“Yeah. Don’t go near him anymore.”

“You’re the one that told him to stay with me.”

“It won’t happen again.”