Page 216 of Dangerous Encore
The secret to how he's happily married when his past is as fuckedasmine.
Maybe he's nothappy.
Maybe it's allbullshit.
We're in the image sellingbusiness.
And it's not like I knowtheguy.
I shake it off. Yeah, Miles probably doesn't have any sort of secret. His advice is probably only as good asGoogle's.
But itcan'thurt.
I'm not talking myself outofthis.
I knock onthedoor.
A voice calls out. "It'sopen."
That doesn't sound like Miles. But it's hard to tell with the pianogoing.
It's a beautiful wisp of a song. Sad, butbeautiful.
Composing isn't my forte, but I can appreciate something artfully put together, even when it's not mytaste.
Fuck, after playing Dangerous Noise songs for the last half a dozen years, I'm not even sure what my taste is anymore. I mostly default to what Piper wants to listen to at home or inthecar.
I pull open the door and stepinside.
That wasn'tMiles.
It'sLogan.
The Wicked Beat leadsinger.
I'm not sure what Logan is doing here. Don't care tofindout.
Logan puts the drunk in party and the whore in manwhore. I don't begrudge the man his lifestyle. Whatever makes himhappy.
But I don't want to be anywhere nearthatshit.
He turns to me with a nod. His light eyes are bright. His smileiswide.
It's like he doesn't have a care in theworld.
Bullshit? Or is he thatshallow?
Hardtosay.
Ahem. This isn't my place. I need to bepolite.
"Hey." I nod back. "Youcollaborating?"
"If you could call it that." Logan nods to Miles, sitting on the piano bench. "I'm not sure my inputqualifies."
"It doesn't." Miles nods hello to me then looks back to the keys. He plays another string ofnotes.
It'sgood.
