Page 117 of Sing Your Secrets

thirty-four

Miles

With my headphones tucked deep into my ear, I get lost in the EP that, by some miracle, I’m proud of. My lyrics, my voice, packaged by Mac’s beats. It took me over five years, but I’m finally proud of something I’ve created. And yes, Mac’s a genius, Sedi’s a workhorse, Petey is an inspiration, and my girl has what I’m sure is the Midas touch—but I think I’m most proud of these songs because they’re honest. They are exactly what’s in my heart.

And for once, I like the sound of what’s in my heart.

Even though the music is glaring in my ears, I sense the backstage door opening.

“Hey, superstar,” Reese says, poking her head through the backstage door.

I linger on her wide smile from across the room. “Excuse me, miss, you’re really not supposed to be back here. It’s an hour before showtime. Performers only. Unless…”

“No.” She rolls her eyes. I begged her to sing tonight. Begged. But she told me the spotlight belongs only to me. The notion is ridiculous because I’m pretty sure the only reason we were able to sell out tickets is that last minute, Petey agreed to hop on stage and perform a few songs. I’m still a nobody…but a happy nobody.

“Are you busy?”

“No. That guy from Elite will be here any minute though.” I make a move to get up and greet her but she flicks her hand, indicating I should stay comfortable on the leather couch.

Slipping through the door and closing it behind her, Reese spins around showing off her concert attire. Her tiny shorts cover barely an inch below her ass, and her tight white T-shirt that shows off her slight hourglass figure reads MiLo’s Fangirl.

“So, security will just let anyone through, huh?” Security tonight is my older brother, Junior. I’m almost certain he’s already tipsy off the open bar.

“Funny thing—I flashed security and he let me right on through.”

I narrow my eyes. “That better be a joke.” She shows me a playful toothy smile but doesn’t reassure me.

She opens the mini fridge and fishes out a pie covered with Saran Wrap. “Did you see this? Noa snuck this in here for you earlier today. It’s her chocolate coconut pie.”

“The better than sex pie?”

Reese places the pie on the small coffee table, unwraps it, then swipes a dollop of whipped cream on her finger. She takes a step toward me then changes her mind. Doubling back to the pie, she pokes her finger through to the bottom of the dish, satisfied when an entire sampling of all the layers coats her finger. Crawling onto my lap she says, “Open,” before sliding her finger against my tongue.

“Mmm.” I suck on her finger until the sweetness fades.

“Thoughts?”

“There’s no comparison.”

She cocks her head to the side. “The sex or the pie?”

“Mhmm,” I say, wrapping my hands around her hips and tucking her deeper into my lap. Pulling the headphone out of my left ear she inserts it into hers, and the music resumes. She closes her eyes and hums along.

“This song is my favorite by far.”

“You like sad songs,” I say.

“I like songs that make me feel,” she replies. “I’m so proud of you.” She nuzzles deeper into my embrace with her ear pressed against my chest. “Tonight is going to be amazing. The building is already packed.”

I scoff. “They’re here to see Petey.”

“They’re here for The Garage magic. And tonight, it’s coming from you.” She leans back and points to her chest. “All my friends are front row, wearing the same shirt.” Tucking her chin, she looks at the words on her chest. “I believe these say MiLo, not Petey.”

I laugh. “Have I told you how sexy you look in a shirt with my name on it?”

She shrugs. “I mean, once more couldn’t hurt.”

I find her lips and kiss her sweetly. I taste the liquor on her tongue. “Pregaming, I see…”

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