Page 108 of Sing Your Secrets

Nodding, I say, “Paying that money back drives artists to crazy extremes.”

“Like what?” His wide eyes are glistening under the yellow light.

I put my sandwich down and brush the crumbs off my hands. “Like having to always appear single to sell more meet and greets and VIP tickets to women who just want you to slip up once, have your baby, or at least cause a scandal the record company will have to pay to go away. Or, being encouraged—and by encouraged, I pretty much mean forced—to date reality TV stars or up-and-coming singers for publicity purposes. Doing year-long tours, back-to-back. Losing complete creative control over your songs, your lyrics… Everything just becomes a desperate attempt to crawl out of the debt well they shoved you down.”

“Is that what happened to you and Petey?”

Planting my hands on the curb behind me, I lean back and stretch my legs in the street. “It was a combination of things. Neither of us was prepared for that life.” I suck in the crisp night air. “It took him weeks to notice the promise ring he gave me on his nightstand. I packed up my shit, moved out of his apartment, and I was home in Denver, already moving in with my new friends before he called me and asked if I planned on coming back. That’s how out of it Petey was at the time. It took him so long to realize I didn’t want that life anymore because he stopped seeing me. He was so wrapped up in what he was doing, and I was just floating through my life, waiting until he needed me again.”

“If I take this deal, will that happen to us?”

My eyes fall to my lap as I clamp my teeth together. I don’t know…

“You’re not Petey,” I say as I place my hand over his. “And we’re not teenagers.”

“What do you want me to do? They want me to head out to L.A. soon; they already have a producer in mind. They want to start fresh with a new album and have it ready to promo in a couple months.”

“Goddamn,” I say as I squeeze his fingers. “You just wrote five songs, now you have to write twelve more? You’re going to get burnt out.”

“From what I understand, I won’t be writing them. Just singing… You can say it by the way.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m selling out.”

Biting the inside of my lip, I absorb the news. I won’t say it, but it’s swimming somewhere near the forefront of my mind. “But more people would hear your music this way. With indie, you may reach tens of thousands in the first couple of years. With Elite Records, millions would hear you in a week. Maybe that’s worth it?”

“Would you go with me?” He doesn’t look at me as he asks, he just stares at his shoes. I do the same, noticing the scuff mark on the toe of his white sneakers.

Say something, Reese. Anything.

But, I can’t. I don’t have the answer he wants.

“It’s okay,” he grumbles, “it’s too much to ask—”

“No, it’s not too much. I love you. It’s just…” I wrap my hand around his back. “I lost myself in Petey. That’s why our breakup was so devastating. I only had one purpose—one thing that made me happy, and my entire identity was wrapped up in one person. I need to figure out what I want to do—what makes me happy.”

“Would you consider it eventually? Tour with me?”

“Maybe,” I whisper. The truth is, I need to see what Miles will be like when someone hands him a thick wallet, a flashy new car, and every pretty girl he passes bats an eye at him. That’s the real test. Petey was a knight once upon a time. Then, he fell from grace. I know better than to simply trust spoken promises from a man. We need time.

Miles shifts his weight so he’s leaning back on one hand. He pulls me against his chest, tucking my hair out of his face as my back lines his chest. He whispers in my ear. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you.” He kisses from my earlobe, down my neck and I lean into his lips, letting the warm desire rush through me. “But I don’t want to lose me again either.”

* * *

miles

I’m not sure why she doesn’t just say it. All signs point to the inevitable. I take this deal, and Reese and I are over. Her heart is here. I told her I was staying here. In fact, the first time we met and shared a sandwich on this very curb, I didn’t ask for her number because I didn’t want to lead her on just to leave her behind.

The irony.

“Would you be able to find someone else to manage The Garage, if I leave?”

“Uh, yeah.” She tilts her head back to stare at me upside down. “Me, of course.”

“It’s a full-time job, how are you going to pull that off?”

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