Page 67 of My UnTrue Love
“And your roommate.” Luke said with no intonation.
“And her roommate.” Bill murmured, draping an arm on the back of Clementine’s chair. “Clem’s quite a fan of yours.”
“I made her talk to me.” Luke claimed, which was just a downright lie. “This is my doing. Not hers.”
Clem rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly. I have to drag every word out of you.”
Luke flashed her an aggravated look, like he wanted her to be quiet and not draw Bill’s attention.
“Did shemakeyou speculate that I was sleeping with Rosalee?” Bill asked in a too-calm tone.
“I volunteered my educated guess. I know how coyotes operate.”
“You don’t know how I operate. And I don’t operate like a fucking idiot.”
“You’re the smartest of us all, I guess.” Luke mocked.
“I might just be.” Bill leaned forward. “You show me another coyote who’s got what I got.”
Luke’s brow furrowed, his eyes shooting over to Clem and then back to Bill. “Well, if therewasone, he’d just fuck it up.” He grumbled.
“That’s what makes me the smartest, I suppose.” Bill’s smile wasn’t very friendly. “I don’t fuck things up. I fuckpeopleup, when they get between me and what’s mine.”
Luke’s mouth compressed into an unhappy line.
Clem had had just about enough of their random animosity. “Is this a boy thing or a coyote thing?” She asked, looking between them.
“Both, I reckon.” Her voice was enough to dissolve the tension, however. Bill finally took his gaze off of the kid. Blue eyes instantly slipped to Clem’s shoulder, where Harry had touched her.
Luke’s tone became even more defensive. “Nothing happened. That guy was just bringing a pizza.”
Bill nodded. His thumb brushed over the same spot Harry had touched.
The movement caused Luke to flinch.
Bill went still.
“Luke is phobic about touching, because the scent of other people bothers coyotes.” Clementine explained. “Is your nose really that sensitive, Bill? Is being in here overwhelming for you?”
“No, I’m fine. Coyotes have a strong sense of smell, but it’sourissue to deal with.” His attention was back on Luke. “Only weak, paranoid assholes make it about the women who sit beside us.”
Luke’s scowl didn’t fade. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Bill said with utter certainty.
Luke cautiously went back to eating his dinner.
Clem decided to take that as a truce. “Wild Horses Runwas a big hit.” She told Bill, eager to discuss his stellar debut. “But just imagine how much more fulfilled you would feel right now if you sang.”
It didn’t take a muse’s intuition to know that Bill wasn’t totally satisfied with his performance. It had been gorgeous, but it didn’t engage his creative energies. In retrospect, that was probably why he hadn’t experienced any stage fright beforehand. He’d felt no vulnerability, because he knew his performance was going to be technically flawless and emotionally safe.
It was also why she’d sensed him wanting more, even as he left the stage to enthusiastic cheers. “Safe” wasn’t enough for a real artist. They needed to experiment, sometimes soaring and sometimes falling. They needed to give it their all. Bill wouldn’t be fulfilled until he could play his own songs.
And sing.
Clem supported whatever felt right to him. …But he was supposed to be a singer. It seemed inevitable to her. Whatever happened between his parents, it couldn’t stifle Bill’s path forever. If he was singing his own songs, it would make him a lot happier.
“I don’t sing.” Bill said.
