said—”
“It’s okay. Trust me, we’re all used to the hate by ‘real musicians.’”
“I didn’t mean that. It’s just disheartening being rejected so many times—”
“That’s the business.”
“I know. And you have to have thick skin, which I think I do. It’s not like I cry over bad auditions or anything, but my latest rejection was this morning, so I was cranky. While I still don’t think Eleven had super inventive and touching lyrics, that doesn’t give me the right to whine about it to my seven-year-old nephew, and I’m sorry for that.”
“Apology accepted.” I eye him as a look of relief crosses his features.
The waitress comes over with my coffee, and Lyric slides it over to me.
“Try not to throw this one.”
I huff a small laugh. “Okay, I’ll try.”
I take a sip, but it’s scalding hot, and I spray it all over the table. “Ouch,” I hiss. “Hot.”
Lyric laughs. “Not off to a good start.” He grabs a napkin from the dispenser on the table and wipes down his shirt.
“Sorry.”
“Does this make us even yet? I insult you, you throw coffee at my head and then spit on me.”
I can’t help laughing with him. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting it to be that hot.”
“That’s what all the boys say about me.”
My laughter doesn’t die even though it probably should.
A comment like that would normally have me searching the room to make sure no one overheard. Whether it’s because we’re seated away from others or there’s something about the pretentious nice guy that calms me, I want to keep talking to him instead of doing what I should be doing which is going home.
The longer I’m here, the more chance of being spotted.
I glance up at the tunnels and remind myself that Kaylee doesn’t get to do this type of thing often. She should get to play for as long as she wants without her famous father ruining everything for her.
I turn back to Lyric. “So, you’re a nanny?”
One of Lyric’s eyebrows rises, and it amazes me how people can do that. Kaylee can do it too, but it’s like I have an invisible monobrow or something—like my eyebrows are attached to each other—because I can’t separate their movements.
“Umm, you don’t look like a typical nanny,” I say. “Kaylee used to have nannies when I was on tour.”
“I’m technically Chase’s nanny, but I’ve really gotta find a gig that’ll pay me. Though they do let me crash in their pool house for free.”
“Have you thought about teaching or something?”
Something like sadness fills Lyric’s eyes. “Teaching is a backup. Music is my first priority.”
Wariness replaces the warm, happy feeling I’d had while sitting here with Lyric. If this ends with him asking for help connecting with a label, I’m going to be disappointed.
It’s not every day I meet someone where the conversation flows and they make me laugh. Like honest to God laugh.
I direct the conversation away from music. “I’m sure you’d make a great teacher. Better than the one Kaylee has right now. Then again, a turtle would be better than the teacher she has now.”
“She’s having trouble at school? Already?”
“First year. She’s in pre-K, and it’s not going well. I’ve been getting back into working on music, and I need someone to look after her, but she’s coming home with bite marks and an attitude, and it’s supposed to be the best school in LA. What are the shitty ones like?” Why did all that just fall from my mouth? I don’t know this guy, and he could go and tell anyone.
“What school is it?”
I hesitate.
He holds up his hands like he’s a busted perp. “I won’t tell anyone where your kid goes if that’s what you’re worried about.”
It’s not, but I also don’t want to get into how paranoid I am. How paranoid I always am.
“I worked at some of the best schools as a teacher’s aide during college. I’m wondering where she’s going.”
“It’s, uh, Vista Point.”
“Whoa, dude, no.” Lyric shakes his head. “Most expensive doesn’t mean best. I can give you some names of actual good schools.”
“Really?”
“Really. But hey, if you don’t want her in pre-K at all, I’m available.” Lyric’s so confident in his delivery, it makes it hard to shut down the idea immediately.
“That was really subtle.”
“Like a sledgehammer. I really need a paying job so I can stop mooching off my brother.”
It’s tempting, but again, I don’t even know this guy. “I was told she needs to socialize with other kids.”
“I practically act like a