Page 26 of My UnTrue Love
“Hey,” Bill held up the yearbook to the page with Johnny’s senior picture, “how come you never mentioned your real name is ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer-Schmidt’?” There was a lot of frozen wrath in his usually impassive expression. “Why, that’s got a real catchy rhythm to it. I just wanna keep on saying it, now. Toeveryone.”
“I only go by my stage name.” How could Clementine have allowed this outsider to peer into the embarrassing parts of his history? It was a violation of his privacy!
Clementine ignored the angry glare he slanted her way, focused on herself. “Johnny, it’s not a matter of budgeting. Affording my medical care is ahugechallenge, so I don’t have much extra to save for emergencies.”
Johnny waved aside her attempt to deflect. She was always talking about her health issues, like that excused hergeneral flightiness. He couldn’t keep carrying her forever. “Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Bill closed the yearbook with an annoyedsnapof its covers. “Shehasthought of something.” He said in a flat tone. “She’s gonna move.”
“You’re not going to move.” Johnny scoffed, his eyes on Clementine. “We’ve lived together for years. You and I chose this house because it was so spacious and modern and perfect for us. You love it here!”
Clementine had marred the purity of the sod architecture’s lines with silly knickknacks and frilly pillows, but she surely saw thequalityof the place. Fashionable neighborhood. Great yard for parties. Plenty of space for Johnny’s instruments. It was the ideal house for the number one, up-and-comer in Red River Valley. Everybody knew it.
Clem sighed and rubbed at her forehead. She did that whenever they argued, right before she gave in. Clementine didn’t like conflict. Now, she’d apologize, and tell him she’d figure it out, and she’d stop this nonsense. He crossed his arms over his chest, ready to forgive her.
“Is this the only room where you keep your stuff, Clem?” Bill asked, lazily getting to his feet. He tossed the yearbook into a box labeled “Photos & Memories.” Clementine had written the words, because there was a looping, scribbled flower dotting the i. Disregarding Johnny, Bill started taping the cardboard flaps shut, as if Clementine really was going to move away. “We might hafta get more boxes.”
Clementine blinked. “No, everything I own is right here. Johnny doesn’t like it when I keep my stuff in the common areas.”
“Huh.” Bill said mildly.
Clementine frowned, like she heard a lot in that single syllable. Green eyes flicked back to Johnny, and she no longer seemed on the verge of backing down. “Bill makes a great point. I’ve been paying half the rent here, but onlyyouget to make the decisions about this house. Why is that?”
“Because I’m Johnny Jacobs!” He flattened a hand over his chest, pushed past his usual limits of good humor. “We wouldn’t haveanyof this, if it wasn’t for me and my hard work. You don’t understand how tough it is to be the onecreatingthe art and not just ‘inspiring’ it.” He added air quotes around the word.
Clementine stared at him.
So did Bill. The coyote’s gaze reflected some inexplicable combination of anger, and revulsion, and glee. Like he was furious that Johnny had said what he said, but also perversely pleased by it.
It was that evil, satisfied delight that clued Johnny into his misstep. Anything that made that asshole happy was sure to be Bad news.
Silence filled the room, for a long moment.
Johnny cleared his throat. He didn’t like the way Clementine kept watching him without saying anything. Her gaze seemed… different, all of a sudden. Like she was looking at a complete stranger.
“Listen Clem, we’re both upset. Let’s just forget this whole thing. What do you say? Put your stuff back and we can have some dinner together. I was thinking you could make chicken and dumplings…”
She interrupted him, her voice more assertive than he’d ever heard it. “I’m moving out. My half of the rent took too much of my paycheck, and now I don’t evenhavea paycheck.”
Johnny was stunned that she’d spurned his offer of compromise. “You’re trying to make me feel guilty?” Wasn’t that just like a woman to manipulate. “Transitioning you out of the band was justbusiness. Nothing personal. Why can’t you see how this is hard for me, too?”
Bill made a derisive, scoffing sort of sound and began packing up the contents of Clementine’s bottom dresser drawer.
Johnny glowered over at him. “You got something to say to me?”
“Oh, I’ve gotta few thoughts, but I’m somehow refraining. Smarter to just let you do the talkin’, for now.” All Clementine’s long flow-y skirts were heaped into a box. Then, Bill moved up to the next drawer, grabbing stacks of vividly patterned blouses and packing them up, too.
Why didn’t Clem tell him to stop?
“This is insane.” Johnny ran a hand through his shiny, black hair, his attention swinging back to Clementine. “You’re already paid up for September and it’s only the fourth. You have plenty of time to find a job and make the rent for October.”
“I’m moving out.” She said again, stubbornly inflexible. “Today. I considered waiting until the end of the month, but Bill pointed out that it wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Billpointed out?” He scowled over at the coyote.
Bill gave a shit-eating grin in response. “This side of town’s expensive, John. And all the big stars,who can afford half the rent…? They’re gonna want more space than onebedroom, in a four-bedroom house. I thought you could use some extra time to adjust.”
The idea of looking for a new roommate and rearranging all his stuff sent a shock of horror through Johnny. He didn’t know how to live with anybody but Clem. Everything was perfect, just the way it was. Why was she trying to ruin it?
