Page 101 of So Not My Thing
Miles took Aaron’s place. “How’d I do?”
“You know you were great.”
“Yeah.” He grinned at me. “I just want to periodically remind you I’m awesome so you’ll remember that you’re happy you’re dating me.”
It was a funny way to phrase it. “Have I ever made you think I wasn’t?”
“Sometimes I feel like I talked you into this, and I don’t want you to regret it.”
I stretched my hand across the table to take his. “No regrets. I promise.”
We talked through more of the details for the opening, going over the lineup again and again. It was my job to listen, mostly. Miles had it covered but liked to talk it out to make sure his own head was clear.
He was reviewing the cocktail list when Kyla stepped out from the kitchen with the camera crew behind her. Her eyes lit up as they landed on us in the booth. “Miles, there you are.”
“Hey, Kyla. Did Chef Le treat you right back there?”
“She sure did. But Aaron was filling me in more on your background. Do you mind answering a few more questions?”
“Not at all,” he said, sliding toward the end of the bench.
“Oh, you’re fine where you are,” she assured him. The lighting guy and the cameraman were already maneuvering into place for a shot of the booth. A shiver of alarm skittered down my spine, but they were in place within seconds, and Kyla was already turning to face the camera. The guy pointed at her to talk, and she drew back her shoulders and spoke in her newswoman voice. Why was she keeping me in the shot? I tried to scrunch my shoulders and slouch.
“Miles Crowe started playing and singing in French Quarter clubs when he was a young man, and now he’s come full circle, opening his own New Orleans club to give other young artists the same opportunities. But that’s not the only way he’s keeping in touch with his past.”
Miles wore his usual, pleasant public expression, his listening face, but the dread swelling in my stomach told me exactly where this was about to go.
“Miles rose to fame onStarstruck, but many of you may remember that he captured the national spotlight before he even won thanks to a moment with another familiar New Orleans face.”
I was going to be sick. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.
“During his hometown performance in the semifinals, Gabrielle Jones rose to fame after the producers spotted her in the audience and zeroed in on her reaction to Miles Crowe’s performance. Her emotional response to watching her hometown hero turned her into one of the earliest viral moments of the emerging YouTube era. After Miles Crowe won the show, his appearance onLive with Lauraled to one of the most famous memes on the internet.”
I had no doubt that when this aired, she’d be voicing over a clip of me at my snottiest and most red-faced in the old footage followed by flashing the Meme That Would Not Die.
“Gabrielle and Miles have since reunited, and by the looks of things, she’s very much his thing now.”
It was a hammer to my gut. I shot a panicked look at Miles. Why wasn’t he saying anything? But he wasn’t even looking at me, just watching Kyla with his same pleasant smile.
She turned to face us. “So how does it feel to be sitting here with your teenage crush?” Her voice was so friendly, but I had no words. They had drained out of me along with the blood that was now pooling in my stomach. Definitely none of it was staying in my brain, oxygenating, helping me figure out what to do.
Miles spoke up. “Ellie and I never met back then, so it’s been great getting to know her now.”
Getting to know her. Like we didn’t spend every spare moment together. Like he wasn’t the first person I saw when I got up in the morning and the last person I saw before one of us went home for the night. Like we hadn’t talked music for hours, sung together, traded lyrics and more kisses than I could count.
Why wasn’t he cutting off this line of questioning?
“Ellie has been essential to getting the Turnaround open,” he added. “She found us this property and connected us with so many skilled contractors and local businesses. She’s a major asset.”
A major asset.
All I felt like was a major ass.
Kyla turned back to the camera. “Let me do this outro.” She walked over so the lit neon sign spelling out the club’s name on the stage wall were over her shoulder. She’d made it clear this was going to be a short segment, and apparently she’d decided she had everything she needed. “Miles Crowe and his partner Jordan Goodman took the club name from a jazz term, but it’s a metaphor too. A place for artists to come and reinvent themselves. Hopefully a place that will give birth to the next New Orleans great. It’s sold out for the weekend with a slate of stars to welcome it to The Big Easy, but you can check their schedule for future dates.”
It only registered at the very edge of my consciousness. The loud roar of blood in my ears drowned almost everything out.
“Ellie,” Miles said, and I realized it probably wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get my attention.
