Page 217 of Dangerous Encore
Fucking amazing,actually.
"You normally compose?" I askLogan.
He shrugs. "Ising."
"I'm more of a ghostwriter,"Milessays.
"Ask him which Top 40 songs he's written." Logan winks at Miles then turns back to me. "He livestobrag."
Miles shrugs. "When you hit number one this many times, you get boredofit."
Logan adopts Miles's breezy indifference. He runs his hand through his air. "Ugh. It's so boring, being rich, talented, and successful. What will I do withmyself?"
"Strong words for someone asking for help," Milesteases.
"This shit isn't my responsibility. You think Wicked Beat keeps me around for my brains?" Logan archesabrow.
"It's not for your charming personality." Miles winks to hisfriend.
Logan flipshimoff.
Mileslaughs.
"I thought I was getting Pete's help,"Logansays.
"He's indisposed,"Milessays.
Logan laughs. "Healwaysis."
"The man has his priorities." Miles plays another string of notes. Something changes in his posture. He shifts into that meditativestate.
The one weallknow.
EvenLogan.
Even if he lives to drinkandfuck.
Not like Icantalk.
I wasthereonce.
"After all this time?" Logan scrunches his nose. "I don't get it. One woman for, what's itbeennow—"
Miles holds up his left hand and wiggles his ring finger. "You want me on yoursidehere?"
"Still…"
"He's coming. Just later." Miles pushes himself up from the piano. He looks to me. "You want to talkprivately?"
"Hey!" Logan feignsoffense.
Miles nods to the piano. "See what youcando."
"Can you play?"Iask.
Logan shrugs, effortlessly casual. Or effortless about appearing effortlessly casual. "Mom made me takelessons."
Miles nods to the kitchen. It's to our right. Everything is in this giant main room. A couch and TV to our right. The pianobehindit.
