“Makes sense.” I could see what he meant. “Music isn’t the main point here like it would be at your place.”
“I might be changing my mind about that,” he said, leaning forward again, his eyes lighting with a glint I was coming to recognize. It meant he’d had another idea about his club. “No other city in the world marries food and music like New Orleans does. Why not be a destination inside the city for both?”
“You really are ambitious,” Chloe said. “Most jazz clubs are after-dinner type places that only serve appetizers. That’s a risk you’re talking about taking.”
“Maybe. But I’ve learned the value of doing things my way, pursuing what I love, not what the market demands. It may not make me a ton of money, but it does make me happy.” He wrinkled his nose for a second. “I sound like either a fortune cookie or a second-rate motivational speaker.”
“Yeah, you do,” Aaron said, speaking for the first time. All eyes turned to him. “If you’re not going to take my business advice, why are you dragging me to business stuff?”
Miles rubbed his lips together for a second, like he was trying to stem the first words wanting to get out of them. “You’re right. Bad idea.” He dug his car keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Aaron. “Take the car. I’ll grab an Uber.”
Aaron didn’t even bother to argue. He took the keys, stood, gave Chloe and me a curt nod, and headed out.
“What is his deal?” Chloe asked. Her tone was curious. I’d have sounded pretty angry.
“I’m sorry about him,” Miles said, running his hand through his hair and mussing it. “He didn’t want me to leave Los Angeles for Louisiana, and he doesn’t want to trade concert revenue for club revenue.”
I blinked at him. “So your business manager’s priorities in no way align with yours?”
“Basically.”
“Why not fire him?” Chloe asked.
“He’s my cousin.”
“Oh,” Chloe said. In Louisiana, everyone had that cousin.
“Yeah. He’s six years older than me, and when I broke out big on Starstruck, he had a business degree in marketing from Duke and he’d been working for a record label in Nashville for a year. My parents wanted someone they could trust managing my career, so they hired Aaron.”
“That doesn’t sound like a lot of experience,” I said.
“It wasn’t. But you know how it is when it’s kin. And it’s been fine.”
I raised my eyebrow, not believing his half-hearted defense, but I didn’t expect him to trash family any more than I would. “How involved is he going to be in this process?” I asked instead.
He sighed. “I don’t know. I’m going to have to talk to him. I better go.” He reached for his wallet as our server returned with our food, setting each plate in front of us. “Or not,” he said, surveying each plate with an appreciative eye. “Someone needs to help you guys eat Aaron’s.”
“Not all heroes wear capes.” Chloe raised her glass in a toast.
He pressed his hand to his heart in a show of mock humility. “It’s the least I can do.”
“I brought crab cake pasta and duck bajeaux,” the server said. “It’s slow roasted and served with bamboo dirty rice, candied yams, pecan gravy, pickled bamboo and black-eyed peas. I hope I picked right.”
“I don’t know how this could possibly be wrong,” Miles answered, eyeing the food. “Does your brother always work this hard to impress you?”
I shook my head, but it was too late.
“Chef is your brother?” the server asked Chloe.
She pointed at me. “Sous chef. And her brother.”
“Your Dylan’s sister?” the server asked me.
“Yes. I don’t usually tell him I’m here until after I’ve eaten,” I explained to Miles. “Otherwise, he...innovates.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” he said.
“It wouldn’t be if he was trying to make her something good,” Chloe said. “But he’ll put horseradish in the mashed potatoes or deep fry weird stuff and send it out. He has the soul of an eighth grader.”
“You can tell him I’m here,” I told the server. “He can’t do anything to me now.”
The server left with a smile and a promise to let Dylan know he had visitors, and we picked up our forks, liked we’d choreographed it. Chloe grinned and picked up her table knife to hold it like a conductor’s baton, her hands held up in the universal sign for “hold it,” then she nodded, and our forks all clinked against our plates in a musical