eight days now? “No problem. What can I do for you?”
“I’m wondering if you have some time tomorrow to swing by a place in Tremé. There’s something I’d like to show you.”
“Tremé? Sure.” It was the neighborhood north of the Bywater and the birthplace of jazz. Like, that’s literally where it was invented. “Did you find a property there you’re interested in?” Tremé was more for adventure tourists who were into the deep history of a place rather than the party and convention crowd. It would be harder to get a new club off the ground there.
“No, not exactly. I’ll send you an address. Would four o’clock tomorrow work?”
“No problem.” I started the car and was reaching for my seatbelt when Miles’s voice came out of my car speakers.
“Do you want this like I want this—” his voice sang.
I cranked the volume down.
“Uh, what was that?” Miles’s tone was amused. Very amused. Sounding-like-he-was-trying-not-to-laugh amused.
“Nothing,” I said, turning off the stereo completely.
“Really? Because it sounded like ‘Need It.’”
“Huh, weird. Nope. I’m just leaving work, so let me let you go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“All right, see you tomorrow.”
I clicked to disconnect then curled my hands around the steering wheel and squeaked out a strangled scream. “Seriously, car/phone/universe? Do you all hate me?”
Was that the kind of thing there was even an explanation for? The kind of thing you could even come back from?
“Call Chloe,” I ordered my phone.
“Hey, Ellie,” she answered.
“I’m going to die.”
“Of?” She didn’t sound too worried.
“Humiliation!” I explained what happened, which she met with a long silence. “Chloe?”
“I’m here.” She made a sniffing sound, and I wondered if she’d put me on mute to laugh. “Um, why was his music in your car?”
“It was on my phone. And it started playing when the Bluetooth synced.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. It happens sometimes if I’m trying to use Marco Polo or GPS. It's never happened when I’m just using the phone.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Okay, but why was his music even on your phone?”
It was her reporter voice, the one where she was looking for answers. “Chloe, what do you want from me here?”
“You know what I want.”
I sighed. “I listen to his music sometimes. His newer stuff. It doesn’t suck.”
“And why do you do that?”
“I told you, it doesn’t suck.”
“Well, your answer isn’t convincing me, and it definitely won’t convince him.”
“I am literally begging you to help me keep my dignity intact. What do I do here?”
She tsked a couple of times, the sound she made sometimes when she was thinking hard. “Tell him it was research!”
“For what? A return to my stalking days?”
“Is that what’s happening here?” Her tone was curious, not judgmental.
“No!”
“Tell him it was research to see if his music could help you figure out the right kind of place to find him.”
“That’s weak at best.”
She snorted. “Maybe, but do you have anything better?”
“No, I do not.”
“Byeeeeeeeeeee.” She disconnected, and I tapped out my lame excuse to Miles.
Confession: caught me being a teacher’s pet. Listening to your music to see if it can help me figure out the right property for you.
Cool, he answered. Thanks for going the extra mile.
I stopped into Miss Mary’s kitchen on the way upstairs to drown my embarrassment in some banana pudding while she and Jerome did the last of the scut work. She joined me at her table when she was done and looked over the empty restaurant.
“Has it sunk in yet that you’re leaving?” I asked.
“Yes and no. In some ways, I’m already gone, my mind living in that RV, imagining trips. And when it’s not there, it’s in my laptop while I’m working on my book. But in other ways...I don’t know. I’ve been here forever, seems like. Hard to imagine a morning where I don’t come in.”
“I understand the second half. Hard to imagine you not here.” I glanced around, sympathetic to why Miles had wanted it so badly. The layout was so good, and my mind began to overwrite Miss Mary’s buttery yellow walls with the rich wood wainscot and burnt umber paint Miles had shown me from his “ideas” folder when we’d checked out other spaces.
Guilt chased the image out of my head. I didn’t want to imagine anything different here until Miss Mary’s last day.
I listened to Miss Mary talk about her book until Jerome was ready to go, then went upstairs and binged The Bold Type until I was too tired to stay awake. As I settled into bed,