Page 1 of Goode to Be Bad

1

Lexie

Listening to someone talk on the phone is just plain annoying, especially when you’re out shopping or in a restaurant, but I had to admit that even my short attention span was pretty engaged with the one-sided conversation I could hear from my spot on the sofa. Apart from being impossible to ignore, it was not your everyday exchange. How often do you hear your boyfriend talk about buying a jet?

“No, Mick, listen, I don’t want a stupid Learjet. I don’t fly anywhere near enough for it to be worth shelling out twenty-some million. I ain’t that fuckin’ flush yet, my man.” Myles was on the phone with his manager and his money guy. “Yeah, I get that I can take out a loan, but I’m not throwing that kinda money around for fucking shits and giggles. And Tony––you’re my money manager. I figured you’da been on the other side of this argument…awhat?Cirrus? Show me.” He pulled the phone away from his ear, put it on speaker, and flicked through photos. “Fuck that. It’s goofy looking. I’m not cheap, you know that. If I’m gonna spend money on something, I’m gonna do it right. I’m just saying I’m not sold on the need for a private jumbo jet or whatever the fuck you’re pitching. I want to get to Alaska without flying commercial. That’s it. Why not charter something?” He winced. “I don’t know what I’m doing long term, guys. I don’t. I’m sorry. I’m not planning beyond the overseas leg of this tour…because, Mick, I got a feeling shit is changing for me. Not going into details because I ain’t got details. But yes, I do imagine it will entail more time here in Texas.”

I was on his couch—our couch—in his…our…condo in Dallas. How complicated. It was his—I owned nothing. But I had a key, half his closet, and the place felt like mine. Which was the scary fucking part.

I waved my arms to get his attention and said, “Let’s just fly commercial, Myles.”

He shook his head, not even looking at me. “No, babe. You don’t get it. I can’t.”

“You’re too famous, huh?” I knew I sounded snarky, but I was feeling irritated. “We can just skip the trip.”

He glared at me. “We’re going to Alaska. I’m meeting your mom and sister, and you’re spilling your guts. It’s happening.”

“There’s no reason for you to spend millions of dollars on this dumb trip.”

He muted the phone and came over and sat beside me. “Mick and Tony have been after me to get a plane for a while now. The crew and equipment drive around like usual, but the band and I travel separately in the tour bus. I’ve been resisting the whole flying bit. I like being on the road. I like the bus. I like being with the crew, hanging out, partying with them. Also, I’m kinda cheap, and jets are big money.”

“I know you’re, like, doing really well, but can you really afford a twenty-million-dollar jet?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

He shrugged. “I could get…well, Tony, my wealth manager, says I could get an essentially unlimited line of credit. He’s got fancy ways of talking about finances and finagling things. I don’t like thinking about money, honestly. I’m like Crow in that regard—I don’t think that putz has a clue how much he’s worth—how much I’ve paid him over the years, or how well his wealth manager has done for him. I’ve always had Tony look over Crow’s finances once a year, just to be sure things are on the up-and-up. I still do, even though he’s out on his own now—best thing he ever did was leaving the band.”

“How well off is he?” I ask.

“He’s a New York real estate tycoon and he don’t even know it, or at least not the extent of his holdings or how much they’re netting him.” He snorts. “Plus he’s pulling in thirty-five percent of the royalties my songs earn.Oursongs, I should say. I get thirty, fifteen goes to the other guys in the band, and the rest goes back into our company. I was with a big-name label for the first few years, but they wanted to push me more commercial, more pop-flavored and we weren’t fuckin’ havinganyof that, so we started our own label. I’ve got all of Dad and Grampa’s music, meaning I own the rights to their entire combined estates and everything, and someday I’m going to remaster and rerelease their stuff. Do some covers of it, shit like that.”

He glanced down at his phone.

“Oh shit, I forgot I had them on mute.” He unmuted the phone. “Sorry, fellas.”

“I got other clients, Myles,” Tony said, his voice deep and gruff and Brooklyn-accented. “I don’t have time to sit around on hold.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Myles sighed. “Okay. I’ll give you five million to play with. Whether you buy something outright or use it as down payment on something fancy, I don’t care. But don’t pauper me on this, yeah? I don’t need a twenty-passenger fuckin’ airliner. I ain’t Kanye or Jay-Z. Small, luxurious, fast. Nice. But not ostentatious and glitzy.”

Tony sighed. “Fine, sounds good. When do you need it by?”

“Yesterday, I guess. I want to be up in Alaska by Wednesday, I might as well get it sooner than later since I gotta be in Japan by the end of the week after, and then we’ve got the international tour after that. Might as well travel in style.”

“It’s a short order, but I got it.” Tony tapped away at a keyboard on his end of the line. “I’ll have something for you in a day or two. I’ll send you a package to look over.” A pause. “You want a full crew?”

“Like flight attendants?” Myles said. “Nah. Just stocked with the same kind of stuff my bus would have. I can take care of myself, and so can the guys. I do want a full cockpit crew, though, and the best available. I ain’t crashing because a half-rate pilot got tired and had no backup.”

“Smart. Heard some stories, I’ll tell ya.”

Myles snorted. “Yeah, me too. Scared me shitless. Make sure the pilots are vetted ten ways to Sunday. Perfect records, lots of flight time. I want Jesus himself flying that jet, yeah?”

“I got you, Myles. Flying out of Dallas?”

“For now, yeah. I’ll let you know if and when that changes. First flight will be Dallas to Ketchikan as soon as it can be arranged, so make sure that gets filed and we’re ready to go the second the jet and the pilots are ready.”

“Will do. Okay, boss, I’ll talk to you in Tokyo, if not before.”

I waited for Myles to end the call, and then he turned to me and I said, “So. You bought a jet?”

He laughed. “Not quite yet. Knowing Tony, he’s gonna ignore me and get me something stupid. As long as I can afford it, I guess it’s fine. He knows I don’t like debt, so he won’t go too bonkers. Hopefully.”