Untamed

A

Just when I was thinking that maybe I should have another talk with Gibson, O

Gibson didn’t feel the same. She shoved O

A

Girls. The tiniest things sent them into hysterics.

I held O

A

I shrugged. “Yeah, I think we should. It seems like a waste of money, making payments on an empty house. And we’re trying to cut back, you know?”

“Oh, well I guess that makes sense,” she said, surprised but looking pleased. “Okay, yeah, make it happen.” She didn’t ask what we should price it at, and I was grateful. From what the agent had said, we were going to lose money on the deal; we’d paid way too much when we’d bought it.

Knowing I had to break the news to her sooner or later, I inhaled a deep breath, then said in a rush, “And actually, I was thinking…it’s stupid to waste money on renting a place right now. We should just save as much as we can until the show launches in the fall. I called Mom and Dad, and they said we could move back in with them. So…I told them we’d move in next month.”

A

Setting O

“I know. I fucked up.” On so many things. “But the album will get us through until the fall. And then everything will be okay. I promise. I promise this will all work out, A

Her eyes widened, and the fear in them was unmistakable. “You don’t make promises.”

Nodding, I told her, “Exactly. But on this…I am. Just don’t give up on me. Okay?” Please see this through with me.

She was silent so long that I was sure she was going to tell me my crazy antics were finally too much for her and she was out of here. Jesus, I really hoped she didn’t say that. I couldn’t handle the sudden uncertainty of my life without her by my side, which was why I was selfishly piecemealing the truth to her. If I told her how fucked we really were, she’d be gone.

A

The sudden relief made me light-headed. Thank God. I at least had until the fall to dig myself out of this gargantuan hole I’d created. Hopefully that was enough time.

It didn’t take much to convince A

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, A

As the kids started fighting over a toy sticking out of a box, A

I opened my mouth to answer her, but before I could, O

Or you could find out just how fucked 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 fucking high?” When he didn’t respond, I growled, “Fine. I’ll get you the fucking 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 fuck do I do now?” I asked O

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 A

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.