Page 123 of Sing Your Secrets

Reese is still learning the mechanics of the DAW, but her real strength is in coaching singers. With her hands on my chest, she’d teach me to control my breathing in the booth. She’d push my range to hit the high notes and pull me back at the exact right moments to let my falsetto take the lead. My girl could sing circles around me every single day of the week, but her true joy is finding a way to bring out my potential. It’s the mark of a great producer.

“Petey’s bringing the mics, but he says bring your own earpiece. The stadiums are going to be very disorienting, so you want to keep as much familiarity as you can.”

I nod. “Okay.”

Petey finished a new album as quickly as I finished mine. Free from the clutches of Elite Records, it’s his best album since Depth. He and Mac made legendary music again. They found a way to top the charts once more—their way. Funny enough, my own idol called me and my relationship his inspiration. Which is why he invited me to open for him on his sold-out U.S. stadium tour.

“Did the merch arrive?”

Her eye starts to twitch as I continue to question all her planning. “Yes,” she says through gritted teeth. “The Deeper shirts, hoodies, and shorts are all with Petey’s crew. They also got the glass mason jars for kombucha—which no one is going to buy by the way—and they are quite annoyed at you for having to haul glass across the country.”

I chuckle. They told me to customize merch that means something to me…so I did. My mom and dad will be at a minimum of six shows across the U.S., meaning I’ll probably sell at least six of those cups.

“Everything here is set?”

“Yes. Law and Sienna know the ropes. All the performances are confirmed. Law even said his accountant can handle the quarterly taxes. This place will be fine without us for a couple of months.” Reese slides out from around the bar, her eyes fixed over my shoulder at the bright neon sign that reads The Garage. “And it’ll be waiting for us when we get back.” She wraps her arms around my waist.

“And my sound checks are scheduled? I know I’m only performing three songs but I still need a run-through. It’s the biggest stage I’ve ever been on.”

“You’re all set, baby. I made sure Petey’s team knows you need just as much time as he does." Reaching up, she places her palms on my cheeks and tilts my head down so I’m staring into her honey-brown gems. “Miles Lorren, you were built for the big stage. Get used to the size, because one day, this’ll be your tour.”

God, I love this woman. With every fiber of my being.

“And we’re all packed?”

She rolls her eyes as I ruin our moment. “Yes.”

“Flights are confirmed?”

“Yes,” she emphasizes through an exasperated sigh.

“Did my puffy coat end up fitting in the hardtop luggage?”

“No. I ended up taking it out. You don’t need it. It’s blistering in Nevada.”

“It’s February.”

“It’s Vegas.”

Our tour schedule is all sorts of crazy. It’d be smarter to run coast to coast, but there’s a big tribute to hip-hop that Petey’s kicking off with his sold-out concert at Allegiant Stadium. Then, we’ll be doing two more performances at two different hotels.

“Right. So, speaking of Vegas—”

“Yes, I’d consider a strip club cheating, unless I’m there with you. Then we can talk about appropriate boundaries—like tits are fine, but everyone’s underwear needs to stay on, and hands above the waist at all times.”

I blink at her dead serious expression. “I—what?... Why would I—what?” After almost a year of knowing Reese, the stuff that comes out of her mouth still floors me.

She shrugs innocently. “What? You mentioned Vegas, I thought we were laying down ground rules.”

“How about we skip the strip club and get married instead?”

She cackles. “No.”

“Damn,” I say, pretending to be offended. “At least consider it before you turn me down.”

“You’re not serious.”

I squeeze her waist and she wriggles against me, trying to escape the tickle torture, but I don’t let her go. I plant a tender kiss on her lips changing the tone between us.

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