I clap my hands together and laugh. “That’s what I said!” I shake my head, serious again. “She’s not.”
“Dude, that would’ve been f**king righteous. You know you just got robbed of some killer stories?”
“I know. I’m kind of sad about it myself. I still may end up with some good stories though, because she is built for the profession and this morning she left for the day wearing a see-through white tank top sans bra.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Damn, what’s your address again? I may have to come for a visit sooner than later.”
“Perv.”
He shrugs. “Guilty. I’m a guy, it’s embedded. So, what else? What about these two guys across the hall?”
“Clayton and Peter?”
“Yeah. What are they like? Do I need to be worried about your virtue?”
I roll my eyes. “Dude, you know that ship sailed years ago. But, um yeah, there’s a better chance of hell freezing over than me getting it on with either of them.”
“Why do you say that?” he says, looking almost hopeful.
“Well, Clay and I play for the same team, and I think Pete is one of those people who will either be a forty-year-old virgin or he’s kinky as hell and into some weird shit but uses his super uptight persona as a front so no one suspects it. Any way you slice it, I’m out.”
Gus nods and smiles. “If I were a betting man, and you know I am, I’m gonna say Pete’s a role-playing sex addict that gets off on S&M. Possibly bondage. Do you think he’s the dom or the sub?”
I cover my ears and shake my head. “Eww, you know I’m going to picture Pete wearing only leather chaps and holding a riding crop every time I eat lunch with him now, right?”
He smiles wide. “You’re welcome.”
I stick out my tongue at him. “Bastard.”
“Yup. So your roommate’s a clandestine stripper in training and you’ve been hanging out with g*y men and gimps. I had no idea Minnesota was so progressive. That’s an impressive mix. Maybe I should’ve gone to school. What else? Tell me. Tell me.” He motioning his hands like bring it on.
I think for a moment. “I saw Maddie yesterday.”
“Dude, don’t tell me … she got her food groups mixed up again and you found yourself on the wrong end of the food pyramid. Second round of meat shits this week?”
“No, but food was involved. To tell you truth, I’m a little freaked out.”
“Freaked out? What happened?”
“Dude, she’s bulimic.”
His voice softens. “What?”
“Yeah. We went to breakfast. She ate like a champion and then ten minutes later she’s tossing it.”
“Dude.”
“I know. So, I walk in on her yodeling her breakfast. I confront her. She brushes me off. I appeal. She gets pissed. It was awful. I don’t know what to do.”
“Wow. She’s pissed huh?”
“Yeah, she totally deflected the intervention and asked me to leave.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“She’s pissed. I’m going to let her cool off and then I’m going to try to talk to her again.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks, I need it.”
It’s quiet for a few moments before Gus changes the subject. “Bright Side, do you have enough money, you know, for everything you need with school and food and—”
I interrupt. “I have a job.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me,” I insist, even though I’m not sure it’s true. I don’t know what I’m in for during these next few months. My small savings may not last. I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.
He huffs. “It’s my job to worry about you. Do you need money? We got an advance on the album. I can send you whatever you need.”
I smile. “Damn, what did I do to deserve you? Thanks but no, I don’t need any money.”
“Would you tell me if you did?”
I shrug. “Probably not. I can handle it.”
“Damn it, Bright Side. If you need anything you call me okay? I can afford it now. I know you and Grace had it pretty rough … God I wished I’d known at the time. I guess I always thought your mom was loaded. I still feel bad about that. So let me make up for it now. Let me help.”
“You know how you can help me?”
His pained expression relaxes. “How?”
“You can wake up tomorrow morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that, and work your ass off to make sure this album and tour are epic.”
He smiles.
“You’re new motto is this: do epic.”
He laughs. “I can’t do epic. It’s an adjective. I can be epic.”
“Look at you Mr. Smarty Pants. You, my friend, can both be and do.”
He grins, and looks down with an embarrassed huff. “If you say so. That’s a lot of pressure.”
“I’m serious; you’d better blow my f**king mind.”
“You’re pushy tonight.” He raises an eyebrow. “I like it. It’s kinda hot.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. That’s the sleep deprivation talking. Go get some sleep, Rock God.”
“Yeah, I should probably do that.” He yawns. “Good luck with your first day of school tomorrow.”