to ticket them for not having a recording permit, and I’m laughing so hard Milo has to shush me.
“I can see why that went viral,” I say. “It’s good. The song’s good too. But why leather pants? Where did that come from?”
He shrugs and puts his phone back in his pocket. “I went through a breakup last year, and I was writing a bunch of sad songs. The guys got tired of it and told me to write something happy. One day Raf found these ridiculous leather pants at a thrift store, and I started to write a song about them as a joke. But then we put music to it, and it sounded good. It kind of just took on a life of its own.”
“Raf mentioned the sad songs to me,” I say. I am really curious about this breakup and this ex-girlfriend, but I don’t want to ask; it’s his business, not mine. And I know how guarded I can be, so I don’t want to push it. But finally, curiosity wins. “Who was she?”
He takes another bite of his burger. For a second, I think he’s avoiding the question, and I start to feel bad for asking, but then he clears his throat.
“Her name was Imani—is Imani,” he says. “There’s not really much to tell you, to be honest. We went to Brooklyn Tech together. She left for Texas A&M after graduation and didn’t want to do the long-distance thing, so we ended it. Or she ended it, I guess.”
I wince. “That’s rough. I’m sorry.”
“And she was mad that I was taking a year off to focus on music instead of going straight to college,” he adds. “So there’s that.”
“It’s hard to be in love and be a creative,” I say automatically. He blinks, so I explain. “It’s something Gigi always says.”
He nods. “I know. That’s where I first heard it. Your grandma really helped me out during those first couple of months, when I was really down. I moved out of my parents’ apartment in Bed-Stuy because I have three little sisters and there wasn’t enough space in our two-bedroom apartment. That, and my parents can be kind of … overbearing sometimes, you know? They think I’m wasting my time on music, and they never come to our shows. And then I moved in with the guys. But after a while, I thought that maybe I should just quit the band and go to college and major in something that will make a lot of money, and then I could help my parents financially, at least. I didn’t want to give up on my dream, but not everybody has the luxury to be impractical.” He pauses and looks down at the table. “The day I’d decided to tell the guys that I was quitting and moving out, I came by your grandma’s to drop off her groceries, and she could tell there was something off about me. Eventually, I told her my plan to give up on music, and she convinced me not to. She said it would be pointless to waste so much talent.”
I smile a little. “That sounds like something Gigi would say.”
“She told me I could stay with her sometimes if that made my commute a little easier,” he continues. “That changed everything for me. I’ve never had someone like her in my life before. I feel like she genuinely cares about what happens to me. She believes in me. That’s why we got so close.”
He leans forward, looking at me. Earnestly, he says, “I know that she’s your grandmother. You have a place in her heart that I’ll never be able to take, and I don’t want to. I just want you to know that I care about her a lot, and I feel protective of her. That’s why I was so suspicious of you coming to visit this week.”
“I was suspicious of you too,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I still am.”
He smirks, leaning back. “Glad to know we’re still on the same page.”
I take another sip of my milkshake to hide my smile. “So you really want to make it big with the band, huh?”
“I hope so,” he says. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I almost feel like I’d do anything to just get signed.”
“Well, once that day comes and you record an album, maybe you can write a song about me and how we ran from the paparazzi. With the way things are going for you, I’m sure there