won’t end with my murder.”
Miles snorted. “No. At this point, you’re mostly in danger of having to watch me eat sick amounts of Brennan’s bread pudding while I punish you with pouting and silence. Broody musician.”
I hid a smile and slipped into the seat. “I might prefer murder to pouting,” I said when he shut the driver’s side door and started the car. “But also, bread pudding? Aren’t you supposed to snort cocaine off a model or something when you’re mad?”
“No, that’s rock star partying. I’m brooding.”
“Right. So maybe whiskey and petulance?”
“I like bread pudding better than whiskey. But I’ve got loads of petulance.”
We lapsed into silence on the ten-minute drive to Brennan’s, although I texted Jay to let him know I would not be murdered. It was lunchtime now, and the main dining room of the iconic pink restaurant on Royal Street was nearly full when we walked in, but the hostess recognized Miles and led us to a quiet corner on the patio.
She left us with drink menus which neither of us touched.
“You’re mad I didn’t tell you that Miss Mary’s place is coming up for lease.”
“Damn straight. It’s perfect.”
I blinked at him. “It definitely is not.”
“Why not?”
“I live there.” That was an answer I could safely give him.
“So? I thought we’d called a truce.”
“We did. But I live over a breakfast café. Miss Mary and the staff clear out by five. I have quiet evenings and wake up to the smell of coffee and bacon every morning. I don’t want to live over a jazz club.”
“You’re saying your idea of a ‘visionary’ is someone who comes in and replaces it with something exactly like what’s already there? You’re only going to lease to someone who sells breakfast and lunch?”
“It’s not that crazy,” I told him. “When Mary leaves, there’s going to be a need for a breakfast place. It would be a smart investment.”
“That’s an extremely narrow potential tenant base.”
“It’s the ideal, but I can live with a dinner place too.”
“I’ll serve dinner. Let me have the property.”
“You’ll serve dinner, then drinks, then I’ll have bass pumping up through my floor past midnight. I’ll have drunks in my alley and whooping at all hours. That’s extremely different.” It was a bulletproof argument and as compelling as the one I couldn’t make aloud. I like the idea of you being close too much to let it happen. “And don’t forget, Chloe and I aren’t the only ones up there. I’ve got tenants in the unit across the hall too. They didn’t sign up to live above a nightclub.”
“That’s what sound-proofing is for. The materials are incredible. You’re giving me easily solvable arguments.”
A server stopped by for our drink orders. When he left, Miles leaned forward and pinned me with a gaze that demanded an answer. “I want to know the real reason you won’t consider me for the café space.” His voice was quiet, earnest. It held a tinge of hurt.
I lied because I had to. “I want someone with Bywater roots in there. Who grew up there or grew up spending time there like I did.”
“Figures.” His lips twisted, and his tone was almost bitter.
“What does?”
“That I don’t fit the profile perfectly.” His fists clenched on top of the tablecloth. “It’s been the story of my life. The music industry tried to force me into prechecked boxes, and I was miserable until I rejected their labels. Literally. And now I don’t fit your boxes, so you won’t even consider that I might understand the Bywater better than you think I do.”
I shifted in my chair, uncomfortable with the emotion radiating off of him. He’d always been so mellow, and for the first time, I saw hints of the anger that must have led to all the tabloid stories about his tantrums and screaming matches over the years.
“Don’t worry,” he said, as he unclenched his fists and pressed them flat on the table. “I’ve had the requisite spiritual retreat to Bali, two years of therapy, and a good dose of humility since I left my label. I’m not angry. Just disappointed.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. Not because I was going to change my mind, but because I’d hurt him without wanting to.
“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” he asked.
I tried a joke to break the tension. “Go back in time and grow up in the Bywater?”
“That’s what it’s going to take?”
“That’s what it’s going to take.”
The server dropped off our drinks, a Coke for me