Page 27 of Composed at Randy's
Hey, that asshole wasn't mine this time. Assholes pop up left and right whether I want them to or not, but currently, it’s the bad kind and not the good kind.
Pity.
“Are we lying?” Brent asks. “Because I seem to remember a certain someone who insisted that we not let anyone leave other than her if she didn't give us the go ahead.”
“Ha! Your mom is going to have to sign one too, Shay!” Travis laughs so hard that he tips over and rolls right off the couch.
“I'm not signing shit, sweetie.” Laura blows a kiss to Harvey, and I swear he ages even more. I’d say he’s gained an entire decade since we got back.
“You're not making my mom sign an NDA just because she fucked Mel.”
“Seriously. You didn't make my mom sign one when she fucked Shay.” Mel is just goddamned shameless, and I love the slut.
Mel and Shay make eye contact, and for a second there, I think they might be about to scrap, but then they both laugh and give each other a high five. Travis's head almost becomes a casualty because he tries to climb back up onto the couch just as they do it.
It’s a narrow miss though, and I'm glad for it because I don't want Gwen to get dragged away from Wren just because Travis got a concussion due to terrible timing.
“I'm still not sure why I'm here,” Travis says grouchily. He crawls over Shay’s lap and nudges him closer to Mel, probably to stay out of the potential concussion zone.
I nod in approval. I told you my band was solid. It's the admin side I’m concerned with.
“As for you two,” I tell the guards, “neither of you are allowed to touch Wren ever again. If he wants to leave, he can leave.”
Oh shit. What if Wren wants to leave? How will I get him to stay if he really wants to go? I might need to revisit this issue with Brent and James later. There must be a polite, non-scary way to keep somebody from leaving the penthouse, right? I’ll google it.
“Bael?” Gwen enters the room and comes up to me. “Wren asked me to have you come back in. He’s sleepy, but he’ll be okay.”
“I gotta go. Feel free to argue amongst yourselves. And Harvey? Get her the fuck out of here.” I point at Allie and jerk my thumb towards the front door.
I'm out of the common area and down the hall to my room without another word. Wren wants to see me, and I want to make a good impression.
Chapter 9
Wren
“I’m fine!” I laugh and hold out my hands to ward off yet another stuffed cat. How many of these does Bael have?
After a quick check up and the all clear from Gwen, I was finally able to convince her to let Bael back in.
He's visibly relieved when Gwen reassures him I didn’t have a major setback, and that I just shouldn't be exerting too much energy for the next day or two unless I want to take forever to fully recover.
This information puts at least half a dozen of my fantasies out of the running, but I keep that to myself. Moderate amounts of activity though… No. Nothing is going to happen, so I can keep those fantasies where they belong. Fantasy Wren is perfectly fine, after all, and can do whatever he wants.
Even though Gwen assures Bael several times that I won’t explode if someone sneezes near me or a light breeze hits me the wrong way, he's still adorably anxious. I think he might be afraid that I'll die if he doesn't do everything in his power to make me happy. Gwen finally washes her hands of us when she realizes that none of assurances are affecting Bael’s actions. She gives mea “Good luck.” accompanied with a grimace and leaves me to my fate.
“This is a nice change from how Kai treats me,” I comment after I accept a fifth stuffie. “He likes to boss me around and make me do things I don't want to do.”
Bael pauses his cat piling activities. “Who's Kai?”
Uhhhh… How do I spin this? I refuse to admit that I have a babysitter because I’m complete garbage at taking care of myself.
“He’s a guy… that I live with sometimes.”
“Not all the time?”
“No. I only live with him when I really need to. He’s gone right now or else I probably wouldn’t have gotten so hungry.” It’s already more than I can bear admitting, and I know it makes me sound unbearably useless, so I stop talking.
Bael doesn’t need my life story. He had to live through actual poverty. What does he think now that I’ve admitted to being too pathetic to remember to eat?
