Page 12 of Sing Your Secrets
Law lets out a heavy sigh. “He’s one hell of a dad.”
“Exactly. How do I tell him what I made of myself was nothing?” I implied to my parents that I was on my way. They just didn’t realize I was on my way back to Denver to hide out in my cousin’s home while begging her husband for work.
Law opens his mouth, then presses his lips together in a tight line, holding back whatever he wants to say.
“If Dad knew what was really going on, he’d probably try to convince me to move home permanently. Join the family business. Grow up. But I’m terrified to admit to him—”
I stop myself before I can shove my foot down my throat.
“Admit what?” Law asks furrowing his brows. “Don’t worry. It stays between us.”
“I respect the hell out of my dad. I’m grateful for him and everything he’s done…but…”
“You don’t want his life,” Law finishes for me.
“Yeah.” Dipping my head, I press my lips together. “I feel like an asshole admitting that. There’s nothing wrong with his life. He built a great business for himself. He raised a family. I feel selfish admitting I want more…or different, I guess.”
Law twists his lips and slightly nods as he contemplates the right response. He clasps his hand over my shoulder firmly. “This world takes all types, Miles. We need construction workers and we need singers. There will be a day when your responsibilities are going to outweigh your passions. But today isn’t that day. You’re twenty-six. Chasing your dream is exactly what you should be doing right now. Your dad understands that. You’ll put your big boy pants on when it’s time.”
I scoff. “Thanks. Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Would you consider keeping this place? I know the upfront investment of starting a business is a lot, but I know The Garage will turn a hefty profit long-term.”
Law shakes his head before the words are out of my mouth. “It’s not the money, it’s the time. Do you have any idea how much of a commitment it is to run a place like this? Sienna and I are trying to have a baby. I want to be home for dinner and be with my family. Running a place like this would be sixty hours a week and all the wrong shifts. It’s not for me.”
I nod. “Makes sense.”
He raises his brows. “But uh, I bet you could handle those hours as a venue manager.” Law teeters his head back and forth. “Hm,” he muses mockingly, “if only you weren’t in such a rush to get out of here. If you decided to stay in Denver, it might be a conversation we could have.” He pops his shoulders and gives me an obvious wink.
“Seriously?” Hmm, it’s not quite my dream…but adjacent? It’s certainly not construction. “You could afford it?” I roll my eyes as I look him up and down in his Versace suit on a regular Friday afternoon. “Never mind,” I say. Law paying me a hefty fee for contract work is actually more like a handout. A handout I desperately need.
“Think about it. If it’s a conversation you want to have, we’ll have it.”
I salute him with two fingers. “Thanks, I will.”
“Good. Oh, and one more thing…” Law takes a few strides toward the main entrance. “I’d like to not go bankrupt because of this reno. Call your dad,” he says over his shoulder before he disappears around the corner.
Ah, fuck.
The entry doors open then slam shut, and I make a mental note to replace those with a soft closing door. Hopping off the stage, I hear the door open and close again immediately. Glancing around the room, I check for whatever Law forgot.
“Law?” I call out.
But it’s not my new boss that turns the corner.
Holy shit, she’s pretty.The kind of pretty that makes your palms sweat. Her thick blonde hair is so long it’d probably touch her hip bones if it wasn’t in such natural tight curls. She’s wearing a sleek, blue, form-fitting business jumper that screams three very important things. She’s a professional. This woman has money. And she most definitely would not be interested in a twenty-six-year-old bum.
“Hi,” she says assertively as she makes her way over to me. The click of her heels sounds off the concrete floors. In her hand is a large bag of takeout from one of my favorite sandwich shops around the corner, Out West. The aroma of salty, fresh-fried kettle chips is a pleasant interruption from the musky stink of this abandoned building. “Do you work here?”
“Technically, yes.” I guess now I officially do. “I’m managing the renovation,” I add as an attempt to seem way more important than I am, in the company of what has to be one of the most stunning women I’ve ever laid eyes on. “We haven’t started yet.”
The closer she gets, the more I can see how lit up her light brown eyes are. “Clearly,” she says as she looks around the mess of the main floor. “But you bought it?”
“Sort of.” I exhale and decide to be honest. “My cousin bought it as an investment. You know this place?”
“So well.” She wears a mystified expression on her face as she spins in place looking around. “I basically lived here until I left for college. I was in Atlanta when I heard Dom passed away.”