Yes. No. All he had to say was that he was part of BENT and I would’ve known.

“Hawkin Play or Vince Jennings, you would have known off the bat, right?” he asks, mentioning the band’s lead singer and guitarist. “But not Gizmo. You see, drummers never get any love.”

There’s certain truth to his statement, a raw honesty in it, but I don’t sense any animosity in the words. Rather it’s more playful, much like his demeanor was earlier.

“Oh, I have a feeling you get plenty of love, Gizmo.”

He chuckles. It’s low, loaded with warmth, and does something funny to my stomach. “Please. Call me Jase.”

I pause, wondering why it feels so intimate for him to ask me to call him a name no one else does. At least it seems so by the screen scrolling in front of me.

“You know I feel like a total ass right now, right?” I ask.

“For?”

“You let me believe that you were some wannabe trying to reel in the women because of it—”

“You believed that all on your own, Hendrix. You assumed. I simply chose not to correct or argue with you over it.”

“Well, you should have,” I state definitively.

“Really?” He chuckles. “In our short interaction, you seemed so taken with the male species in general, I’m not exactly positive you would have loved a man you’ve never met before arguing with you over your very assertive opinion.”

I open my mouth to argue but then shut it because he’s right. Nail on the head, annoyingly right. “You still should have told me.”

“I’ll remember that for next time I meet you for the first time.”

“Funny.”

“I try,” he murmurs.

Silence stretches between us as I let it sink in that Jase Gizmodo is on the other end of the phone. And not just on the other end, but the man actively sought out my phone number to call me. But why?

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have any stunning revelation to share with you as to who I am. I’m not famous. I don’t do any surprising parlor tricks to wow your friends and make them like me. Hell, I don’t even know what I’m saying right now . . .”

“No tricks needed. I like who you are or I wouldn’t be calling.”

“And why is that again? The you calling part.”

“Because you mentioned needing money to save your business—the cookie bakery, I presume.”

“You’ve presumed right.” Those words are so hard to say. Failure isn’t an easy thing to admit.