Page 13 of Sing Your Secrets
“Who?”
She locks her gaze on mine. “Dominic Morales. The previous owner. When he inherited this place, it was an old brick warehouse.” She points up to the exposed metal structure. “That’s why the roof is like that and why it’s always so drafty in here.”
“We’ll look into that,” I mumble. The crisscrossed metal beams are top-of-the-line industrial construction, but the roof tiles look questionable. There’s probably little to no insulation.
She shrugs. “I never minded. The chill was a relief especially when there were hundreds of sweaty bodies packed in here for a show.” She shakes her head from side to side as she stares at the bar area like she’s stuck in a memory. “I can’t believe someone bought it. Wow.”
Still looking up, I eye the dangling stage light which is teetering dangerously right above her head. Without thinking, I grab her elbow and yank her about a foot to the left. Caught off guard, she stumbles.
“Whoops, I’m sorry. You okay?” She nods as I place both hands on her upper arms, ensuring she’s steady before I hastily let go. “I don’t trust those.” I point overhead at the spotlights pointed toward the stage.
“Ah, my hero.” She smiles at me, her pink lips spreading wide as she studies my face. Holding out her free hand, she says a name I’m sure I’ll remember until my dying breath. “I’m Reese.”
“Miles.” I subtly wipe my palm on my jeans before accepting her handshake.
“Nice to meet you, Miles.”
I’m torn. I really want this conversation to continue, yet I want it to end. On one hand, I’ve spent most of my life letting my emotions rule sovereign like I imagine every musician does. Right now, my emotions are telling me this girl is important. This moment is significant. On the other hand, my logic is telling me that she’s a total knockout and so far out of my league, it’s embarrassing. How much more rejection can I take?
“When are you planning on having it open?”
Raking my hand through my hair, I groan. “I have no idea. I’m not even sure what it’ll open as. My cousin, Lawrence, is just selling it as a commercial property. It could become a mega-Starbucks for all we know.”
Her jaw drops so low, she shows off her perfectly lined molars. “A Starbucks,” she deadpans. “You’re shitting me. Do you have any idea what this place used to mean to so many…” She trails off seemingly unable to convey the magnitude of her message. For a moment, I let my eyes linger on her soft, rosy, lipstick-free lips. Their shade of natural pink might be my new favorite color.
Clearing my throat, I break the silence. “Hey, so it’s not safe for you to be in here right now. It’s still a haz—”
“Do you want to share a sandwich?” she asks, cutting me off. “One’s for my boss, but you can share mine.” Holding up the takeout bag in her hand, Reese cocks her head to the side.
“That’s generous.”
She scrunches her face. “And by generous, you mean weird, right?”
I chuckle at her frankness. “A little. You want to share a meal with a stranger?”
She throws her head back and laughs, her thick ringlets bouncing around her face. “You’re Miles—so technically no longer a stranger. Plus, I’ll admit, I’m a pretty forward person. But mostly I’m hoping you’ll let me give you a sixty-minute elevator pitch on why there’s no way in the world you can let this place become a Starbucks.”
I raise my brows. “Aren’t elevator pitches supposed to be sixty seconds?”
She clenches her teeth together before giving me a half-hearted apologetic smile. “Not for me. I’ve got a lot to say.” Her eyes land on the broken neon sign and based on the glazed-over look in her eyes, I know she must have a lot of memories here.
My mind is running.
Now I have questions too.
I squint one eye and nod toward the bag. “Are you willing to share your kettle chips?”
“Yup.”
“All right,” I say reaching for the bag in her hand. “Pitch away.”