I perk up. “Oh? What are the theories?”
“Bren thinks he’s a closeted accordion player and in a mariachi band,” Karl says.
“And you?” I ask Adrian.
“I think he’s involved in some dark shit. A cartel, maybe. Maybe he’s a drug mule.”
I wrinkle my nose. I highly doubt that. “What’s your bet, Karl?”
“I think he’s going down there to party. He’s probably just taking a break from everything and lying on a nude beach somewhere enjoying the view if you know what I mean.” He waggles his eyebrows, and I roll my eyes.
“How much is this bet?” I ask, thinking I want in on it because I already know what Fritz is going to Mexico so often for. I have a gut feeling based on what they’ve said. And I can get it out of him when he takes me to Mexico when I’m ready to go.
“Five k,” Karl says, and I can’t hide my disappointment. “Why, Iggy? You want in or what?”
“Iggy?” Adrian asks.
“Long story,” Karl says. “But do you? Want in on the bet?”
“Not for five thousand dollars. Geesh.”
“Care to share your theory anyway?” Adrian asks.
I roll my eyes. “Men can be so dim.”
Karl and Adrian look at each other, then just blink.
“Do I have to explain everything? Fritz is . . . elegant. Polished. Stoic. He’s not out there partying on the beaches. You’re definitely out,” I say to Karl. “He’s a millionaire—”
“Billionaire,” Karl corrects, and my jaw drops.
“What?” I ask.
“Fritz is a businessman first, musician second. He invests his band millions wisely.”
“Even worse. There’s no way he’s involved in any crime or running drugs. Just no way.”
I know my gut is right.
“And the Mariachi?” Karl asks.
I laugh. “Seriously? You know how disciplined he is, how seriously he takes his work. Do you think he’d stray his focus for a mariachi band?”
“I’m out,” Adrian says.
“Me too,” Karl agrees.
I shake my head at the two idiots in front of me. “It’s a woman, you dummies. Fritz is in love, and whoever she is, she’s in Mexico. It’s probably a secret, so the media doesn’t cover it. If he is a wise businessman, he understands his allure is greater to a female fanbase if he is single. Not taken.”
“Why hide it from us, though?” Karl asks.
“That, I’m not sure about.” I shrug. “Maybe she’s famous too, and he’s signed an NDA.”
“Fuck,” Adrian says. “I think she’s right.”
“I’ll find out when he takes me home.”
“What?” Adrian asks.