Page 23 of A Daddy for Christmas 3: Matty
Thankfully, he hadn’t left any dirty laundry. I made my way to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He hadn’t left anything in there either. But there was still a lot of shit to pack up, and I would need some boxes. Tomorrow.
I ordered a food delivery and sat down to call work. I wasn’t surprised that Andre answered. “Diamond Lux—”
“Andre. It’s Matty.”
Andre squealed. “Matty! Hon, when you coming back? I miss you.”
“Uh, no, I’m not coming back. Kind of why I’m calling. I am in Vegas, though. Want to come over and help me clean up Drake’s place tomorrow?”
“Not really. Ugh. What the fuck?”
“Okay, how about I’ll pack and clean, and you can come over after your shift and bring drinks.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“Perfect. I’ll text you his address. And I’ll tell you everything when you get here.”
“You better, bitch.” That had me laughing. Andre was probably the only person I would miss.
The next twenty-four were frustrating. This was a lot for anyone to do. I was glad Drake trusted me, but mother fucker, I was not meant for paid labor, let alone the free kind. Midnight Hunt had given the guys small advances while they recorded, but not enough to hire anyone to do this shit.
But by the time Andre showed up in the wee hours of the next morning, I had all Drake’s shit separated into piles for donations and keep, and all the trash was gone.
“Look what I have…” Andre sing-songed as he waltzed in, holding two giant Thermos containers.
“Better be alcohol, or you can head right the fuck back out.”
“What? Sheesh, Mat, you forget who you’re talking to. Also. Potty-mouth much? You been hanging out with those wannabe rockstars too much.”
I took one of the Thermoses and pulled out a couple of glasses. “Not so much wannabe anymore. I think.”
“Really?”
“Well, yeah. They’re putting together some incredible music, and then they’ll tour. They’re even going to play at that big festival in the desert.”
“What? The one at Blackrock? Rocktoberfest?”
“Yep. That’s the one.” Sure, I was hedging a bit, but I knew they’d get there eventually, especially with Midnight Hunt backing them. “And a major US Tour. They’ll be opening for Bramble Punk.”
“I heard of them. Hey. That’s great, Matty. But…that’s why you’re not coming back to work, right?”
“Yep. We’re finally officially in a relationship. And I’m moving to Miami with him.”
Andre looked around at the evidence of my hard work. “You sure he didn’t just use you to do all this?” He waved his hand around, taking in the entire main room.
“Pffth…No. He had me clear out my place, too. And terminate my lease.”
Andre’s eyes grew wide. “Well. I’m…fuck. Give me that drink.”
“What is this?” I took a sip. Woah. “Margaritas. And strong.”
“Yep.” He held his up. “Cheers.”
We talked about what I was doing in Miami and what my future might look like as the boyfriend of a rockstar. Andre told me about some of the club shenanigans. There was always plenty of that drama. And we killed both boozy containers, which was actually way too much for me. We crashed with him on the couch and me alone in Drake’s bed.
I was going to miss my friend, but not enough to not leave. Nothing was holding me here, and I had all the hope in the world that my future with Drake would be fantastic.
Except. What the hell was I going to do? I wasn’t going to work in a strip club. Drake made that clear. And I’d already been so bored. I was going to need something else to keep me going. But what?