Page 2 of Goode to Be Bad
I laughed. “You just gave him five million dollars to spend. That’s bonkers.”
“Nah, jets are stupid expensive. Especially if you want to fly international, which I do. But I only need it big enough for the band, and maybe a few extras. Ten-person max, I’d say. Tony ain’t stupid, and he knows my taste.”
I sighed. “Five million dollars.”
He shook his head. “Don’t wig out about it, Lex. It’s just money. I’d be doing this gig if I was still in a beat-up old church van hauling my gear in a trailer. I don’t mind admitting I like the fame most of the time, and the money all the time, but I ain’t fixated on it. I’m just me.”
“How muchareyou worth?” I asked out of curiosity. Getting to know Myles over the past couple of months, I never saw him be stupid with money, nor flaunt it in gaudy or ostentatious ways.
He shrugged. “Ten? Fifteen? I don’t know. I had Tony take a big percentage of my income and invest it from the very beginning, so that if this gig ever fizzles out, or some sort of crazy shit happens, I’ll be okay. He’s a wizard with money, so he’s done really well by me. I still give him at least fifty percent of my total net income after taxes to invest, and I try to live off of twenty-five percent or less, putting the rest into savings. So I’ve banked a lot, and invested a lot, in diverse areas—real estate, stocks, shit like that. I’m part owner of a minor league baseball club here in Dallas, and I’ve got a few used car lots, a handful of strip malls, some condo buildings. Lots of business, lots of diversity, lots of various streams of income, so if my music stops earning, I’ll have income.”
“Smart.” I gestured at the building. “So what about this condo building?”
He grinned. “I own it. Actually, I bought the land it’s on, and invested in the builder who built it, and funded the project. I didn’t design this condo itself, and I never planned on living here full-time, so it’s notmine, in that sense. It’s just a penthouse condo and it hasn’t sold to anyone else yet so, until it does, I use it as a home base when I’m in town. If it sells, I’ll use one of the others. And actually, my local real estate guy says he’s got somebody sniffing around.”
“So just from music, how much would you be worth?”
He frowned. “I dunno. Not that much, but not chump change.”
“Must not be if five million dollars for a jet is something you can do.”
He nodded. “It’s an investment. I’m gonna lease the bus to another act, and when I’m not using the jet I’ll charter it out and make bank on it. Might even end up with another one and run a little line out of the DFW airport.”
I shook my head, laughing. “I would never have thought of you as a businessman.”
He shrugged. “Well, it’s a result of my upbringing. I grew up dirt poor. Dad and Grandpa didn’t make shit. Grandpa did the grind for fifty years, saved enough to buy a little spread to retire on, and Dad did a little better, but he never invested, never saved, and turned out he had a gambling problem, so by the time he died he was broke as shit. Living with Crow when Dad was touring, I wasn’t…poor, per se, because the club had money and so did his parents, but it wasn’t mine. They just fed me, clothed me, and housed me out of the goodness of their hearts. Dad would send money once a month, but it was never enough to really keep me the way I needed. But he had a drinking issue and the gambling issue, and was grinding the honky-tonk circuit for a few grand a night plus tips. I had nothing of my own, is the point. So when I started making money, I vowed I’d be smart about it. Save, invest, and have plenty to retire on.”
I laughed. “And here’s me with barely two pennies to rub together.”
He tilted his head, eyeing me. “Is there something you need, Lex?”
I snorted. “Yeah, actually. I need to figure out my fucking life.” I smiled at him, going for sweet. “I’m not asking for money, Myles. And I never will.”
“You can, though. If you need anything just let me know.”
I fought back irrational anger. “Iknow, Myles. You give me whatever I ask for and then some. But I’m not a sugar baby. I don’t do handouts. I’m uncomfortable even living here with you, if that’s what you call this thing we’ve been doing the last couple months. I should be paying you rent.”
He sounded angry. “That’s fucking stupid, Lex.” He twisted on the couch, grabbed my hands, and squeezed. “We aren’t, like, athing, yet, and I get that. Not putting labels on anything. Don’t have to talk aboutus,none’a that shit. But, just bein’ clear as I can here—we aretogether, at least in some capacity. I got plenty, okay? I just fuckin’ told you how much. I’m as confident as I can be that you ain’t a gold digger, especially if you’re talking about paying me rent for crashing at a condo I own—when I own the fuckin’ building, babe. I could sign the deed and give you a whole fuckin’ unit if I wanted. This very one.” He arched an eyebrow. “Say the word, and this penthouse is yours. My agent might shit his pants if I gave it away, but hell, it’s mine and I can do what I want.”
I sighed. “I appreciate the gesture and the idea, Myles, but I don’t want your condo. I don’t take handouts, freebies, spending cash, none of it.”
“You’re not a sugar baby, Lex. You’re my girlfriend.”
I winced. “I thought we weren’t doing labels.”
He growled. “I mean, shit. You been in bed with me night after night for two months. If we’re not seeing anyone but each other, that’s a thing, ain’t it? I ain’t askin’ you to go tell all the world you’re my girl, and we don’t have to put that boyfriend-slash-girlfriend label on it if you don’t want. I get you may not want that right now. It’s a scary step for people like us. But at least acknowledge that we’re a thing.”
My gut flipped. Heart squeezed. “Myles, I…”
He shook his head. “So we’re just sex, then.”
“NO!” The sadness, the disappointment, the anger in his voice hurt, and I wanted to assuage it. “No, that’s not—” I paused, and tried to find some kind of words. “Myles, I like you. As a person, I like you. I like spending time with you. Being around you. The sex with you is…out of this world. You’ve pulled more of…me…out of me than anyone else, like ever, including my sisters and mom. But I’m just not ready to go there, yet. I may never be. I’m sorry if that hurts you, I just…commitment is something I don’t know if I’m capable of.”
“I ain’t askin’ for a commitment, Lexie.” He eyed me. “You lookin’ for an out in case you find someone else you’d rather fuck?”
“No, Myles,” I said, feeling another bolt of irrational anger. “I’m not looking for anoutto go fuck someone else.”
“Then what’s the holdup?”