Funny Feelings (68)

I take care of my business and change into gym clothes before I look back at her one last time, still sleeping soundly. I clock the steady rise and fall of her chest, body curled tightly into itself. So quiet and delicate and unnervingly different from herself. It does nothing to quell the rage still floating through my system.

She rolls and the shirt rides up in the same movement that pushes the duvet down, revealing the slope of her bare hip. I smother a groan.

I scrape a palm across my jaw before I leave, closing the door as quietly as I can before I stomp my way to the elevator. I slap the button as I’m hitting call on Clay’s name.

“Meyer?” he answers groggily.

“Meet me at the lobby Starbucks in ten.” I hang up, too agitated for niceties.



He has the good sense not to look annoyed when he strolls through the elevator doors. He looks like he’s been expecting it.

He holds up a placating hand my way. “Meyer—“

“No. Clay, there’s no fucking excuse. You said you were up for being the sole acting tour manager for the real thing and on night one— night one— of the pre-tour you didn’t make sure security was arranged?”

“I didn’t think we needed security arranged for stage exit in a club that size. Obviously, for bigger venues that will not be the case.”

“You fucking thought wrong, didn’t you?”

“Apparently, yes. I suppose I did.” He flops into the chair adjacent to mine. I level him with a glare.

“How was she? Before that, I mean? Did she have fun?”

He shrugs with a frown. “From what I could tell, she was having a fucking blast. She was reveling in it, man. She did seem off before the show, so I just gave her space, like you said. She accidentally called me ‘Dad’.”

“What?”

“Before she went on stage. She got this real determined look and said to me ‘I’ll kick ass, Dad’. That was a bit off.”

I start to chuckle. My God, that woman will never cease to amaze me. Delight me. Drive me insane.

I look up to his confused expression. “Don’t worry about it. It was an inside joke.”

He sighs with a lift of his brow. “Look, Meyer. You know I respect you. And last night was a freak thing. It will not happen again. But I hope you can relax on some of the helicoptering. I actually have more management experience—“

“Let me stop you right there, Clay. You might have more management specific experience. But I have years on you when it comes to this business. On multiple sides of it. I know what it means to put yourself out there for public consumption and how that makes people think they’re entitled to consume every bit of you. I also know how to be more protective of myself and the people I love.”

“Is that why you agreed to put yourself back out there, too? All so you can stay protective?” Clay asks, knowingly.

I snort. “It’s part of it, yeah. I’m sure it’s obvious that that’s not the only reason.”

He sighs. “Can I ask you, then, why were you so against it when I first suggested it— God, what was it, seven or eight months ago now? When I brought it up at the Funnybones party. And then again when Kara wanted to do the tour? You still acted irritated.”

“Because it shouldn’t have taken an excuse for me to act, I guess. And for the same reasons I told you again. She was good enough on her own. She didn’t need me, I’m hardly relevant.”

“It was just good business, Meyer. You came off of a really successful show and she—“

“She’s a fucking good comedian, Clay. That’s all there is to it. I don’t even see how your whole scheme has played a role at all.” I get up to leave. “Tighten up your security plan for the rest of this mini tour, okay?”

He looks like he wants to say more, but refrains. “Okay. We don’t have to leave for a few days. Kara has some local places to pop into the next couple nights. You guys don’t need to go to a game. She doesn’t need to go on again anywhere until after Shauna’s premier, really.”

“Perfect.” I stand, already putting my headphones in for the gym

“Uh, Meyer?”

I turn back to him, a headphone suspended midair.

“Should I cancel your room?” he shrinks in his seat.

I cough. “Sure. Yeah. I think. I’ll, uh, let you know later today,” I reply, before I jettison in the direction of the gym.



I push myself through the weights, thinking about that night all those months ago when I ran into Clay, someone who’d just been a friend of a friend of a friend in the business at the time. He’d tossed a stuffed mushroom in his mouth and told me everything he knew about Farley Jones, about how his biggest client, Kara Wu, loved her stuff. That she was planning an all female tour at some point and expressed an interest in her.

“You know how you could give yourself, and Farley, a leg up?” he asked. Then proceeded to answer before I could reply. “Stir up publicity. You’re just coming off of this. You should start dating. Capitalize on people’s nosiness. I could help you with the social media stuff…”

I’d dismissed him, simply excited for the confirmation that Fee was making it. I’d felt more successful that night than I ever had for any of my own achievements, had felt fucking glory on her behalf.