“All right,” Tyrone conceded. “We’ll do it your way. But I think you’re making a mistake. You can do this, AJ. Everybody knows that. I just gotta work on convincing you of the same thing.”
He clapped AJ on the shoulder and let him go, retreating to Kira with an apologetic smile and a ready excuse. AJ didn’t hear it. He didn’t want to. He wanted to get out of Heat Wave and hide until the show the next night. 2
When his intercom buzzed at four-thirty, AJ ignored it. That was one of the downfalls to living in an apartment building with front door security. When people came stumbling home after a night on the town, they didn’t really care who they woke up to get inside.
When his mobile phone started ringing right afterward, though, he knew it hadn’t been a mistake. He fumbled blindly along the top of the nightstand until he found it, and hit “talk” without opening his eyes.
“Are you sleeping?” Tyrone’s chirpy voice. Of course. “You can’t be sleeping, man. Let me up.”