Billy Jeffers: Rockers of Steel by Mj Fields Page B

looks over her shoulder. “I promise to try to be gentler than you were.”
    “Opposite ends, Madison, or I won’t get through this.”
    She nods and sits down, drawing her knees up tightly to her chest.
    I sit down, my knees bent and feet on either side of her ass, looking at her.
    “I’m not sure what part of the conversation you overheard.”
    “Where he sold a house without your consent that you paid off.” She looks down. “I know Angel has something to do with it, and that”—she swallows hard—“you mentioned investors and a scheme.”
    “All right, then,” I grumble, she knows everything. I am so fucked.
    “I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional.” She cups water in her hand and pours it over her body.
    “I know that.” I laugh uncomfortably. “Well, I know that now. Two days ago, I would have thought otherwise.”
    Fuck, this is not as easy as I thought.
    “Fuck buddies and secrets, Billy,” she says as she rubs both hands up and down my shins.
    “Noted. But this … This is horrible.”
    “You can tell me anything.” She shrugs. “Anything.”
    I open my mouth, and it all falls out. “After college, they almost lost the house. They lost one before, and then we lost everything.”
    “What do you mean everything?”
    I shake my head, some things I would and could never tell. “The house they just sold … It was almost foreclosed on. I paid it off in full. I didn’t want them to lose everything again. He worked hard; he gave me everything, fucking everything.”
    She scoots up closer, and I grab her around the knees to stop her. “Billy, you did the right thing. You always do.”
    “I did what was expected of me; that’s what I always do. I have spent years feeling like I owed them, and what does he do? He fucking sells a house that is paid for. He could have retired, Madison.” I slam my fist down on the side of the tub in anger, and she jumps. “Shit, I’m sorry. I am so—”
    “No. It’s okay, Billy. Please, just talk to me.”
    “He re-mortgaged the damn house so he could invest the money, which is code for fucking blow it. I signed papers so that couldn’t happen again. I told him I would never do it again. He promised I would never have to. The papers I signed weren’t to a deed. I actually signed partnership papers for Jeffers Investment Company. He fucking screwed me hard. Used me. Then he stepped over a line and collected one million dollars in investments that he can’t return, and it’s a bullshit scheme—I know it is. ‘ Trust me, Billy boy,’ he said.” I look at her. She’s looking at me with pity, which rubs me the wrong fucking way. “I don’t want your pity, Madison. He didn’t just fuck me; he fucked Memphis, Finn, River, and about three others to the tune of one million dollars.”
    “Wait … what?”
    I turn away. I can’t even look at her. I stand up and step out of the tub.
    “I only ask that you honor the promise.”
    She doesn’t respond, so I grab a towel, wrap it around my waist, and walk out.
    I have no clean clothes, and I know not a damn thing is open right now.
    I throw on my jeans, grab my phone, and sit at the desk. I open up Google and try to login to my investment accounts. The fucking internet is slow.
    I hear her get out of the tub, and then she walks out wrapped in a towel.
    “Billy? I think you need to know something else.”
    “I would like to be the one to tell them if you could just see to keep it to yourself.”
    “Will you look at me?”
    I turn the swivel chair around to see her pulling a sweatshirt out of the suitcase and putting it on over her towel. It speaks volumes that she is keeping herself covered.
    “The bungalow is not really a bungalow,” she says, pulling on a pair of pajama pants. She turns around and grabs one of the bags I carried in and pulls a shirt and warm up pants out of them then brings them over to me. “I’m pretty sure you can get more than one million dollars for the sale of the estate they