stage, I waited for him, my hands in my pockets to keep them from fidgeting while I worked out what I wanted to say.
“Hey,” he said, giving me a curious half-smile when he walked back out to find me standing instead of already claiming the piano bench. “What are you doing?”
“I want to talk?” I hadn’t meant for it to come out like a question, but that had been happening more and more lately. Maybe it was because I was still never exactly certain where I stood with him, but I hated it every time my voice went up at the end of a statement, like I couldn’t speak a straightforward sentence.
“Sure, babe. What’s up?”
“It’s about the opening.” His smile faded, a wariness creeping in instead. “It’s in a week and Jordan says you still haven’t sold all the tickets.”
He shrugged. “It’ll be fine. We’ll give comp tickets to the artists for their friends and family and they’ll fill the place.” He settled onto his stool and strummed an E chord.
“It’s not enough to fill it. You need influencers, people who love music, who are going to come and tell their friends, then those friends will listen and come too. If you’re filling it with friends and family, then they’re only going to come when it’s their person up there.” I took the guitar from his hands, gently lifting the strap off his neck, and set it on its stand. He turned on the stool to watch me. “I know marketing isn’t my specialty, but Aaron is right. You need to trade on your name.”
He was shaking his head before I could even finish the sentence. “Nobody is coming to see a washed-up talent show winner. This might be a slow start, but we’ve got the fundamentals right. Great ambiance, good food, and cool artists coming in.”
“Yeah, but you booked all locals. Lesser-known locals.”
“Because that’s our aesthetic.” He jammed his hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I keep having to explain that to everyone.”
I tried not to bristle at the trace of condescension in the words. He was on edge with the opening so close. “You don’t. But you should listen when people are telling you to reconsider. If you want to do the best possible thing for the Turnaround, you need to start using your name, and quick.”
His jaw worked back and forth, like he had to grind his words down before he could spit them out. “It won’t work like you think it will.”
“Why not?”
“I told you, I’m not that much of a draw.”
“You’re more of a draw than you think. Putting your name out there, offering the artists as ‘Presented by Miles Crowe,’ is going to generate some interest even if it’s only people who are curious but skeptical about what a lineup curated by you would look like.”
“I don’t know.” His shoulders slumped slightly.
I hated seeing him like this. “Think about it, Miles. I know you want to save the spotlight for new faces, but right now, no one is going to see them. If you want to give them the best possible shot at exposure, use your name. Even if you back away from it later, at least it gets the faucet running, you know?”
“I’ll think about it.” He dug his keys from his front pocket. “I’m not up for hanging out tonight. It’s not you,” he said, hurrying to reassure me even though I hadn’t said anything. “But I need to think.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” I didn’t like the vibe between us. I didn’t feel like he was mad at me, but for over a month now, I’d felt like parts of him were off limits to me, times he was away somewhere in his head, or times when he was singing and I’d convince myself that his lyrics were about me, but then he’d blink like he’d just realized I was standing there.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead—a kiss he might as well have been giving a favorite auntie—and headed out. “Oh,” he said, stopping at the door. “Do you mind locking up?”
I shook my head. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks,” he murmured as he walked out, and once again, I was left with the distinct feeling he’d already forgotten he was leaving me behind.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You were right.”
I jumped as I walked out of my apartment to the stairs. Miles was sitting halfway down them, his back against the wall. I hadn’t heard from him at