Chapter 34 – Lumen
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lumen
Iforgot how annoying it is to have to wait for laundry to be done.
It’s part of life, so maybe I’m just in a shitty mood.
My birth control implant has basically eradicated my periods, so it’s very on par with my life at the current moment that the first one I have on tour is an extra special kind of awful.
On the plus side, Riser is dream boyfriend material. The man remembers that we need quarters and laundry soap, which I probably only would have thought about when walking into the laundromat.
We wait for the two loads of laundry to finish washing and move them over to dry. Hopefully no one steals my stuff because we head to a big box store across the street.
I have no idea why anyone would want it, but I was always paranoid when I left my clothes in the laundry facility in my apartment to go back home and chill while it was washing or drying.
Riser is going to be a good shopping buddy. I can tell. He keeps hold of the cart, and his motto seems to be I’m following you.
I probably should have stopped here first, bought ugly period-worthy underwear, and washed them with the loads of laundry we started, but hindsight is twenty-twenty. I’m definitely not wearing any of the panties Kincaid bought me at the boutique shops.
We make it to the aisle, and I start looking around for underwear I can toss if they get destroyed.
Riser disappears for a bit, but it feels more like he wants to give me some privacy and less like he’s hating every minute of being in the store with me.
I finally just grab something, turning around to search for Riser, but he comes my way with the cart filled with clothes hanging on the baby seat part of the basket.
Those were not there the last time I saw him.
“Did you go shopping?” I ask, crossing the distance and tossing my purchase into the buggy.
“Maybe. Well, if you like it, yeah, I did a little shopping.” Some days his hair is more wavy, but today he’s sporting curls. He shoves his dark hair back from his face and smirks. “If you hate what I picked, I have no idea how it ended up in the cart.”
He leans over, plucking a few of the hangers off the rail and holding them up.
The one on top is a spaghetti strap dress in a pinkish-mauve color. It looks like it has a built-in bra, and it’s really cute.
Huh.
It’s kinda like a tennis dress.
“I looked at this in a romper, but I figured that would be inconvenient every time you needed the restroom.” He shrugs.
“Still, I loved how soft it was. I eventually found the dress version. You could pair it with a cardigan and leggings once it gets colder or just wear it around the bus.” He hangs that one back up and moves through the small pile of clothes.
“There are two skorts, some long sleeve T-shirts, a few sweaters because it will get cold soon. Then I found this set. It’s a hoodie, skirt, and sweats.
All you have to do is add a T-shirt, and you’ll be set.
I mean, it’s not name brand or anything, but it’ll be comfortable. ”
As he clips it onto the cart, I circle around to him. His dark olive complexion hides some of it, but his cheeks are red.
I have no idea why he would be embarrassed about being thoughtful. Maybe he’s afraid I won’t want the clothes because they’re not designer? Or maybe he’s concerned they don’t match up to what Kincaid bought at the boutiques?
I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest. “You’re amazing. You picked things I would pick for myself, and you managed to find the softest pieces of clothing in the entire store.” I smile and stretch up, kissing his jaw. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, grinning. “And don’t worry about money. All of this is my treat.”
Jesus.
I like him so much.
Multiple people stare, following us with their eyes until we disappear from sight.
At first, I think they recognize Riser, but after four or five people all watch us shamelessly, I start to worry that maybe I’ve bled through my clothes.
I wiggle around, trying to test if I’m leaking, though that feeling is hard to miss.
It takes a while to find the feminine care aisle, and once we do, I turn to Riser.
“Am I bleeding through my clothes?” I whisper. “Do I have something on my face? What the hell is up with the people around here?”
“I don’t think they’re looking at you,” he admits, shrugging. “This is a pretty affluent area. I don’t look like any of the other shoppers.”
“Oh,” I say, frowning. “Fuck them.”
He chuckles. “Exactly.”
I get to work picking out everything I’ll need to be comfortable. This time, Riser leaves me with the cart as he meanders away, but I don’t mind. It’s convenient to be able to toss everything in, rather than needing to carry it around.
Back home, I was a big fan of a reusable period cup and, more recently, menstrual discs. This store has a brand that’s disposable, and it says it can even be worn during sex. I’m not sure I’m that brave, but I grab a box, mostly because they’re convenient to wear overnight.
Meandering down the aisle, I check around for pain relievers, but apparently, they’re not on this one. I somehow end up in front of the condoms and lube, so I stop to examine the options.
Although sex isn’t on my wavelength at the moment, they do have condoms specifically made for alphas.
Knotting is a no-go with condoms in general because there’s too much friction, making them unreliable. From what I remember back when Theo and I were using them, they’re basically just like the ones for betas, but significantly bigger.
My face heats.
I grab two different kinds of lube, tossing them into the basket. My philosophy on that is, it’s better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.
When it comes to condoms, the guys should probably pick those if they want them. I don’t want to grab the wrong size and have it be a disaster.
Noise comes from behind me, and my head tilts as Riser stops at the end of the cart.
“Heating pad, pain relievers, heat patches, in case you want something to wear when you can’t plug in the heating pad.
” He holds out his left arm, and a bunch of shit falls into the buggy.
He moves to his right arm next. “Small garbage can with a foot pedal and lid, solely because I realized we’re disgusting human beings who don’t have a trash can in the bathroom. Then bags for said garbage can.”
I grin, shaking my head.
People judge this man based on the exterior package, and they have no idea what they’re missing out on.
Too bad.
Their loss is my gain.
Mr. Hawthorne’s office calls back while we’re in the SUV on the way to the bus after picking up the laundry.
My heart stutters as I answer the call, unhooking my seat belt to move closer to Riser. He frowns, grabbing the middle strap and buckling me back in as I wait for the receptionist who always calls to transfer us to the lawyer.
“Sorry, beautiful.” Riser tosses his arm around the back of the seat. “I know it’s weird, but in an accident, you’d go right through the front window.”
Mr. Hawthorne comes on the line, and it gets hard to breathe.
“Lay it on us,” Riser says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. His arm is still around the back of the seat, which helps me catch hints of his chamomile scent. Unfortunately, it’s not helping me relax.
“Overall, it’s good news,” Mr. Hawthorne says.
“We have a new offer. They came in at nine thousand per song where you are owed full writing credit. Three thousand for collaborative effort—that number is low, but since only two songs qualify as such, I focused on upping their offer on the songs that fall under primary writing credit.”
My brain short-circuits.
Seven songs at nine thousand dollars each, plus two songs at three thousand…
I’m not the best at math, but I could normally figure that out in my head. I flip over to the calculator on my phone, and I swear all the air in the SUV disappears.
That’s almost seventy-thousand dollars.
“Holy shit,” I whisper as my mind starts spinning.
“Are you happy with that?” Riser asks.
I nod frantically.
Even with Hawthorne taking a cut, that’s as much money as I would make in a year.
I’ll be able to pay off my old apartment complex, get into a new place, pay all the utility deposits with no trouble, and I might even have enough to cover rehab for my dad.
He has really shitty insurance and couldn’t come up with the difference between what they would pay and what the facility fees were. There was also a deductible or something.
Shit.
My brain is done for.
Alcohol withdrawals are one of the most dangerous.
They can actually kill a person, which isn’t true for most substances.
There are, of course, a few others like opiates that can be serious, but in the majority of cases, it just sucks.
A person feels like shit and has cravings, but alcohol withdrawal can cause hallucinations, fatal arrhythmias, and some other really dangerous stuff that I can’t remember because I’m too frazzled to think properly.
My dad was so bad off when I saw him last that his kidneys were shutting down.
He had to have a paracentesis to have the extra protein-fluid drained off his stomach.
It was gross and scary, but even then, they wouldn’t keep him in the hospital to medically supervise his withdrawal.
So as soon as he went home, he was drinking again.
It was my breaking point, and it happened only a few weeks before Theo was signed to Ruined Records.
My relationship with my dad has always been strained, and I felt guilty, but I couldn’t stay in Florida just to watch him drink himself to death. If I were being truthful with myself, I’d probably admit that it was a big reason why I agreed to go on tour with Theo.
“I want to take the deal,” I choke out.
“Wait,” Riser says calmly. “Are there any stipulations or conditions she should know about before signing?”