Page 48 of My UnTrue Love
“I didn’t offer her an arrangement! Is that what she told you?”
“It’s whatyoutold me. About thirty seconds ago.”
“Oh. Well, that happened days ago, before I knew she was yours.” Woody’s laugh was too high and too fast. “It was really just a joke, anyhow. You know what a kidder I am. And I did it in a totally respectful way. You can’t blame me for any of that.”
“Should I blame you for upsetting hernow? Because she looks upset.”
“I’m upset.” Clementine agreed, playing along.
“She’s upset.” Bill told Woody. It was a spectacularly menacing delivery. Clem now understood how he’d managed to persuade people around here that he was a hardass.
“She’s butting into my business!” Woody jerked his chin towards Luke’s door so forcefully that the curly-cues on his handlebar mustache bobbed. “Ihaveto evict that coyote kid. I’ve already got someone else lined up to rent the place. Your girl’s gotta be reasonable.”
Bill didn’t deny that she was “his girl”. “Clem says the boy’s not home, so the boy’s not home.” He stated that like it wasn’t even an argument.
The curtains shifted again. Luke peered out, his attention on Bill. Pale-brown eyes were full of surprise.
Clementine grinned and gave him a furtive wave.
The curtain swung closed.
She sighed with tolerant affection. How could everyone fear coyotes? She’d only ever met two members of their species, but they were both so non-confrontational. It was probably taking all of Bill’s thespian skills to intimidate Woody.
“Yeah, but I heard music in there.” The naga whined, pointing towards Luke’s apartment.
“I’ll keep an ear out for it.” Bill promised.
“But…”
“Bye, Woody.”
Woody took a hint and made a break for the stairs, as quick as a winged-jackrabbit.
“And you still haven’t repaired the leak in our bathroom!” Clementine called after the manager, while he was still within shouting range. “The drywall behind the cabinet is all mushy, now. Just like I warned you would happen!”
“I can fix the sink.” Bill volunteered, in his usual accommodating way. “Been meaning to get to it.”
Ofcoursehe could do home maintenance. He was so proficient in everything. It was no wonder Clem wanted to have his babies.
“Woody’s supposed to handle repairs, according to the lease. I checked.” She said, before Bill headed off to get his tool belt and sent her lust spiraling even higher. “What if you hit your thumb with a hammer and it impacts your guitar-playing?”
Rosalee let out a sudden shout of rage. “You son of a bitch!” She came marching out onto the walkway. “You call that a retraction?”
Bill’s gaze swung towards their unwelcomed visitor.
Clementine blinked, because she’d forgotten the other woman was even there. “Why are you yelling at…?”
“Look at what Bill just put out!” Rosalee interjected, holding up her phone. “He’s made everything worse.”
Clementine scanned Bill’s post.
Quit the band. Had no choice, given John JacobJingleheimer-Schmidt’s recent actions. The Yellow Roses no longer represents my values, as someone who supports women in the music business.
Beneath the three sentences were dozens and dozens of messages from Bill’s multitude of loyal followers. Speculating on what Johnny had done. Expressing solidarity with Bill’s impassioned moral stand on whatever it was that had happened. Offering their own stories of egotistical lead singers behaving badly. LOLing about Johnny’s real name.
Clementine looked up at Bill through her lashes and arched an amused brow. He wasn’t a verbose man, but he was a musician. A poet. All his words were carefully considered. He knewexactlywhat he was doing when he’d typed such a strong statement about Johnny’s bullshit.
“That band was just as much yours as his.” Bill said seriously. “I don’t appreciate how he claimed he did all the work, while you just sat around inspiring him. He disrespected your contributions.”
