Page 24 of Kiss and Tell
Connor paused, going still. He looked down at his drink, swirling the ball of ice around. He was so silent I thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“My best friend,” he eventually said. His voice was tight, almost strained.
“Can I ask what happened?”
“When we were kids we got stuck in a small cellar,” Connor said. “He somehow ended up locking us in. No one realized we were missing for a while. It was dark and cold and I was still really young.”
“So it stems from a childhood trauma. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t have a terrible phobia,” Connor shrugged. “I just don’t like the feeling of not being able to escape. Mason—” Connor blinked rapidly, looking down into his drink. “Mason always felt guilty because of it. It made being stuck on a tour bus hard on me. Being a touring musician was rough sometimes.” He stopped talking. His mouth trembled, his hand gripping the glass tight.
Every time Connor brought up his past, he reacted like this. He would go silent, avert his gaze, clench his fist.
There was something more at play here. I needed to tread lightly.
“I remember you told me you got sick of the lifestyle,” I said quietly, not wanting to spook him. “The touring got to be too much?”
“The industry has changed a lot in the last few decades,” he said after a moment. “Musicians don’t make a lot of money with album sales anymore, you know?”
I didn’t know, but I sat and listened patiently.
“The best way to make money is to get a dedicated fan base who will buy your merch and see your shows on tour,” he explained. “Touring is where a lot of the money comes from, especially if you’re lesser known and haven’t hit it really big yet. But being on the road so often sucks. Tour buses aren’t exactly roomy and spacious.”
“So that’s why you decided to quit and take over your brother’s bar?” I asked.
Connor paused, taking a small sip of his drink before answering.
“Pretty much,” he said. “Walt needed someone he could trust. I said no at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I came around to the idea. Like I said, my favorite part was the partying and women.” His eyes flashed with mirth. “What better place to drink and pick up than at a bar?”
I snorted before taking a sip of my own drink to wet my dry mouth. I needed to keep reminding myself of this, Connor and his womanizing ways.
“Bet you didn’t expect there to be so much work going into it, right?” I asked.
“I thought it’d be all fun and games.” He held up his drink in a salute. “At least I get to bar-hop.”
“So what other thoughts do you have about this place?” I asked. “You liked the furniture, you said?”
“I like how it’s spaced out,” he replied. “I don’t like the furniture itself. It feels like I’m sitting in some sixty-year-old man’s cigar room. Like this is where business deals go down.”
“And I take it that’s not the feeling you’re aiming for?”
“Do I look like a sixty-year-old man who smokes cigars?” he asked.
“I don’t know, I thought I saw a white hair just now.” I pretended to examine his head. “Are you going grey prematurely?”
I expected him to be offended, but he simply looked smug.
“I could totally rock the salt-and-pepper look,” he said confidently.
“You could rock any look and you know it,” I said without thinking.
“You should see me in leather pants and eyeliner,” he said. “Or wait, didn’t you say you liked the billionaire suit and tie look? Maybe we should go to a fancy-pants, high-end restaurant and dress up all classy. You can see me in a business suit and I can see you in a slinky cocktail dress.”
My mouth spoke before my brain could stop me. “You’d love to see me out of this blouse, wouldn’t you?”
Connor’s eyes flared with heat.
“Is that an offer?” he asked.
