Untamed (Thoughtless #4)(95)
We moved into my parents’ place with only a week’s worth of clothes each and a handful of toys for the girls. All of our stuff fit into four boxes that I stuffed in Dad’s minivan, since all of my cars were gone. Most everything of real value was gone. But surprisingly, Alfred was the hardest thing for me to part with. I’d gotten attached to having someone on hand to satisfy my every whim. I’d maybe even grown fond of the quiet, obedient ghost of a man himself, who seemed to appear out of nowhere right when I needed him the most. I teared up when I told him his services were no longer required. His only response was a curt nod goodbye. Damn my bad luck. And bad choices.
After the last of our boxes were shoved into my childhood bedroom, Anna sat on the bed and sighed. While Gibson jumped on the mattress and Onnika took halting steps around the room, I sat on the bed beside Anna. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I told her, “It could be worse.”
As the kids started fighting over a toy sticking out of a box, Anna tilted her head at me in question. “Really? How so?”
I opened my mouth to answer her, but before I could, Onnika threw up over everything inside the box. Well, that could happen.
Or you could find out just how f*cked we really are.
Chapter 19
Not That Awesome
Almost every day, someone seemed to ask for more money—my songwriter, my producer, the guy designing my album cover, the recording studio, and even my family. They were all siphoning me dry. The house in Seattle finally sold, but with what I still owed on it, my bank account was hovering in the mid-four-digit mark. That wouldn’t last long in this city.
“What do you mean you need another five thousand,” I asked my songwriter when he upped his price yet again.
“I had to pay out of pocket for the musical arrangement. I just want to be paid back for expenses that are rightfully yours.”
I ran a hand down my face, discouraged. If I paid him five grand? I’d have nothing but pocket change left. “Musical arrangement? I thought I paid you for that shit. Why do I have to pay someone else?”
He sighed like he’d explained this to me a dozen times already. I wasn’t sure if he had or not. Dude had a tendency to talk like he was Shakespeare or something. “Like I said before, my genius is combining words into flowing art forms that glow with life and pulsate with sound. But I need a partner to make the words take flight. And five grand. Per song.”
“Per song? Are you f*cking high?” When he didn’t respond, I growled, “Fine. I’ll get you the f*cking money.”
Hanging up the phone, I cursed and refrained myself from chucking it against the wall. I couldn’t break my dad’s handset too. “Well, great. What the f*ck do I do now?” I asked Onnika, standing at my feet. She only stared up at me with her dark eyes and gave me a tooth-filled smile. “Being adorable won’t help.” I told her.
Closing my eyes, I groaned and considered my options. My parents? My brother or sister? The guys? No, none of those were doable. If I was going to get the amount of money I needed, I would have to do something stupid. Because I couldn’t let Anna know how screwed we were. The only reason she was still on board with any of this was because of the TV show. The ace in the hole, or so she believed.
Deciding to just do it before I could think too much about it, I called my credit card company and had them raise my limit. Then I called the bank and set up an appointment to get a loan. I had to. I’d never get out of this mess if the album never got finished. And if I didn’t finish it, my marriage was over. I just knew it.
Tossing the phone onto the mattress, I reached down for my daughter. The house was oddly quiet for a change; the peace was nice. Onnika was in that busy stage where she didn’t really want to be held, she just wanted to be free. As I suddenly felt a collar being shackled around my neck, I understood, and I released her so she could do as she pleased. Scrambling over to the phone on the bed, she picked it up and start punching buttons while saying my name.
“Don’t let her fall off the bed? babe.” Appearing in the doorway, Anna pointed at Onnika.
Walking over to me, Anna sat herself in my lap. My cock instantly twitched in excitement. Our sex life had dwindled some, since we were sharing a room with the kids. And sneaking off to have sex in the shower, while great, was starting to wear thin. I just wanted to f*ck my wife senseless on a king-sized mattress with no child within earshot. God, I missed those days.
Lacing her arms around my neck, Anna asked, “Have you heard back from the producer? Can I hear the first song yet?”
A twinge of guilt ran through me so fast, it instantly killed my arousal. I hadn’t wanted to lie about leaving all the time to record the album, so a few days after we’d moved in with my parents, I’d told Anna a half lie—that a record label had picked me up. She’d been excited to hear that, and proud, which had made me feel pretty goddamn shitty. Honestly, it still made me feel shitty. But having hope on the horizon had eased Anna’s mood and her mind, so the lie was almost worth the regret. Almost.
The song that she was curious about was the first single. I’d recorded it last week, but the guys I’d hired were still tweaking it. Seemed odd to me that they needed to. Once a D-Bags song had been laid down, it was good to go…no alterations required. But I’d heard the raw cut of the single, and I agreed with my producer. It needed…something.