And I have exactly one week to keep these idiots from jumping right in their own way.
NINE
KYREN
I adda cartoon slip-and-fall sound effect to my queue and bite back a smile. The actor playing Spider-Man—some trust fund kid named Blake with zero talent but plenty of daddy’s connections—is about to do the big swing across stage. He’s slipped out of his harness three times this week. Three. The director keeps saying it’s a “harness issue,” but we all know it’s because Blake can’t follow basic instructions.
My finger hovers over the button. One press and Blake’s inevitable fall will be accompanied by a Looney Tunes slide whistle and splat. I’d be fired immediately.
Might be worth it.
My life wasn’t supposed to be this. By thirty-four, I should be touring with my band, or at least scoring legitimate productions. Not babysitting this theatrical disaster where the lead can’t even stay in his harness.
My phone vibrates against the soundboard, making an unholy racket among all the expensive equipment. Matheo’s name and photo light up the screen. I silence itwithout a second thought and turn back to the train wreck unfolding on stage.
Blake is now arguing with the harness tech about how the equipment is faulty. The tech—a competent beta woman who deserves hazard pay—is explaining for the hundredth time how to properly secure the locking mechanism.
My phone buzzes again. Matheo. Ignore.
It buzzes a third time. Then a fourth.
I snatch it up before it can vibrate itself off the soundboard and hit answer.
“This had better be Amara calling from Matheo’s phone to tell me he fell off a cliff while chasing hummingbirds.”
“Kyren! My favorite misanthrope.” Matheo’s voice is irritatingly cheerful. “I need a favor.”
“No.” I watch as Blake finally gets strapped in properly. “Whatever it is, I’m busy, and the answer is no.”
“I’ll pay off your student loans.”
My finger freezes above the cartoon sound effect button. “All of them?”
“Every cent. Plus I’ll throw in that vintage Stratocaster that I had hanging on the wall of our dorm room freshman year.”
I lean back in my chair, mildly interested as I watch spider boy continue to flail on stage. “What’s the catch? Need me to help hide a body? Because I charge extra for that.”
“Nothing so dramatic. I just need you to pretend to be part of my pack for a week.”
“Your what now?”
“My pack. With Cash and Lucas. We’re helping an omega who needs to bring a pack to her sister’s wedding.”
I snort. “Cassius Matthews? The human calculator who almost got me placed on academic probation senior year? That Cash?”
“For one, no one calls him Cassius and you know it. Second, you did try to copy his whole thesis…” Matheo sighs. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I need your help.”
Even a debt-free lifestyle isn’t worth partnering up with that little bootlicker. “Sorry, I’m on a job in Phoenix for the next month.”
“It’s a week, man. You’ll net more money for a few days than that entire gig is paying you.”
I glare down at the sound board, genuinely wishing I could set the whole thing on fire. “Money isn’t everything.”
“Fine. Let me send you something.”
The phone blips in my ear, and I pull it away to look at the image he just messaged me. I’m half-expecting a picture of one of those novelty checks because throwing money around is always Matheo’s communication method of choice. Instead, there’s a picture of a woman. It’s a candid shot, taken in what might be a cafe or diner from a low angle, like Matheo had to get it quick before she caught him.
A spark of recognition has me zooming on the picture with a spread of my fingers. My eyes catch on her face.
