Page 90 of Sing Your Secrets
“Hurts?” I ask, fighting the urge to stroke the top of his cornrows to comfort him. Ex-boyfriend or not, it’s not fun seeing anyone like this—weak and in agony. He nods as he taps against his windpipe, aka his money maker. If Petey was on tour, this would be a DEFCON five emergency. No one makes money off him if he can’t perform.
“I’ll be okay,” Petey whispers. “Text me tomorrow and we can talk, okay? I’ll explain everything.” His heavy lids fall shut. I almost forgot what I barged over here for. When I saw how sick Petey was, I decided my verbal assault could wait…as could his explanation.
“Petey, will you text me if it gets hard to breathe? There’s a nasty respiratory thing still going around.” As long as I’ve known him, Petey’s been susceptible to illnesses like this. The rest of us would get through with a day or two of coughs and sniffles, but when Petey goes down—he goes down hard. During one emergency trip to the hospital, he had to be put on a respirator for two days.
“Reese,” he mumbles sleepily, “the blue stuff, I got it. I’ll be okay. You can go.”
Shit.“I’m going to order you some soup,” I grumble under my breath, but I doubt he hears me. I resign to my fate tonight. Hung jury—and I’m the tiebreaker. And I’m going to choose to be a gracious person. I send a quick text message to Eli, letting him know I won’t be at work tomorrow. I need to make sure I don’t get sick before spreading this at the office, and at any rate, I have a feeling I’m going to be exhausted after playing nurse all night.
After Eli’s understanding return message, I make the call that I’ve been dreading.
“Hey, baby.” Miles sounds cheery as usual.
“Hey.”
“What’s wrong? Oh, are you with your dad?” He clears his throat.
My chuckle falls short. “No.” Please, please, please just be cool. “I need a pass.”
“What?”
“I need you to be a trusting, cool as fuck secret boyfriend who knows I would never do anything to betray you, and that the minute this album is done I’ll be screaming from the top of every high rise in this city that I’m your girlfriend.”
“Okay…” He lets out a deep breath and is silent for a brief moment. “All right, I’m ready. Lay it on me. What do I need to be cool about?”
“I’m at Petey’s hotel.”
“Fuck,” he gripes. “I had a feeling…”
“Obviously, nothing happened.”
“Baby, I’m not your keeper. You said you were going to clear things up with Petey. I understand. I don’t love the idea of you being there at night, but I meant it when I said I trust you.”
“Thank you.” I sigh in relief, and I wish the conversation could end here. “But you’re really not going to like this next part.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles again.
“Am I testing your patience?”
“A little…”
“I have to stay tonight. He’s so sick, and he’s a total masochist when it comes to this stuff. I’d feel really bad leaving him, but I don’t want you to think it’s just about Petey. I wouldn’t leave a homeless person on the street in this condition.”
He lets out an audible growl of frustration. “Is this your thing? Playing Florence Nightingale to every wounded man, down on his luck?”
I smile into the phone. “If I remember correctly, that ended up working out in your favor.”
“True.” His laugh is breathy and soft.
“I just want to make sure he takes his next dose of fever reducers and eats something.”
“Eat what?”
I purse my lips at his response. This better not be an eating pussy joke.
“Soup, Miles.”
“Obviously, Reese,” he says, his sass surprising me. “What kind of soup?”