“Maybe we could apologize-” Garrett began but Jose cut him off.
“An apology ain’t gonna cut it, son. You and this tour are parting ways. Now, you have seven days until you have to be in New York to meet with the label. I suggest you pack your shit and you go home to wherever it is you fucking came from and get yourselves sorted. Take a break. Regroup. Do some yoga or something. And come to the table next week either with your heads in the game or with an understanding that this shit ain’t gonna work. But this petty bullshit is at an end.”
Jose slammed his hands down on the table, knocking over his empty coffee mug.
“I suggest you not making me regret taking you on. I don’t like to be made a fool of. And last night, you made me look like the biggest idiot on the fucking planet.”
None of us said anything else.
What was there to say?
It looked like we were going home.
I loved Sunday mornings. They were my favorite part of the week. Gracie usually slept in and I was able to monopolize the television for hours.
We had gone out last night, though I had refrained from getting wasted for Gracie’s sake. I knew how hard it was for her to hang out and not drink. We had gone to a small club downtown and listened to some live music. It was a local punk band called Shake and Shiver.
They sucked.
The Rejects would be able to show them how it’s done. It had been weeks since I had seen Cole. And he was still in every corner of my mind.
I had thought our relationship had lacked substance. That it was about nothing more than two people sharing a bed.
Then why did everything make me think of him? I went into a convenience store and found myself picking up Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups out of habit because they were Cole’s favorite after show snack. He particularly liked to eat them off my bare stomach.
I was driving past the movie theater and saw an advertisement for their science fiction Saturday. And that inevitably reminded me of the time Cole and I stayed in bed for an entire day watching a marathon of Star Trek movies.
Other times I would hear a joke and pick up my phone to text him, because I knew he would appreciate it.
How had he, without my realizing it, invaded every facet of my life?
Gracie and I had come home early, neither of us in the best of moods to be out socializing.
The reasons for my funk were well known. But Gracie had been in a horrible mood for almost a week now. When I asked her what was wrong, she attempted to reassure me that she was fine.
But I had heard her talking on the phone until the wee hours of the morning several nights in a row. I had recognized the angry cadence of her voice through the thin walls. And I knew that whoever was on the other end of the phone was the source of her crappy attitude.
I stretched out on the couch and blew on the top of my piping hot coffee. I had gotten my first paycheck from The Claremont Center on Friday. And while I wasn’t thrilled with how much my good friend Uncle Sam took for his pockets, it was still a heck of a lot more than I had ever earned on my own in the past.
To celebrate I went out and bought myself a fancy gourmet coffee machine. Complete with a mixed assortment of flavored drinks. I was currently indulging in a caramel macchiato.
I flipped through the channels until settling on my all time favorite movie, Dirty Dancing, for the thirtieth time. It was the perfect way to prepare myself for another week of work. Though I couldn’t complain. I had a dream job. And even though it had picked up to crazy levels in preparation of the Kimble Project Gala in two weeks, I was having a blast.
And then there was Mr. Theo Anderson and his refusal to relent in his persistent wooing.
And woo he did.
He made sure to bring me coffee several days a week and he called me throughout the day under the pretense of an asinine piece of information he needed to relay.