Page 14 of Sing Your Secrets
five
Reese
The paint is peeling. There are holes in the wall where the fluffy pink insulation is spilling out. The floors are filthy and God knows what spilled and dried on the concrete floors to leave the disgusting dark brown stains. To a normal person, this place looks like an enormous halfway house. But all I see are memories in every corner.
I look up at the run-down stage and I remember the first time I ever sang for a crowd. Glancing at the falling-apart bar, I remember all the tequila shots I most definitely was not old enough to be ordering. Either I had a fantastic fake I.D. or the bartender didn’t care. Right behind the torn and tattered curtains, I recall all the time I spent hanging out with performers and bands my dad knew.
I think of all the time I spent here with Petey…
“Hey, is it safe to go backstage?” I ask Miles.
He shrugs at me with a sweet smile. “About as safe as it is out here. Just promise you won’t sue me if anything happens.”
“Promise,” I say over my shoulder, walking past the stage.
I was flabbergasted when I saw the chain links around the front doors of The Garage were cut. I’d walked by the abandoned building for years now. I saw a man in a slick suit exit the building, and I just couldn’t help myself. After all these years…
I had to see it.
I certainly didn’t expect the new owner to be such eye candy. He towers over me even in my heels. His sturdy, muscular frame definitely looks built for construction work, and yet he’s got a baby face hiding underneath his short, trimmed beard. The minute I laid eyes on Miles, I realized I might have a type. Holy hell is he distracting. I never thought a grown man who wears a beanie paired with a buffalo plaid flannel, and the teeniest gauges in his ears, would get me going, but today is a day full of surprises.
I also didn’t expect to open the door to the backstage area and see the same green couch on which I had sex for the first time…and so many times after. It’s dusty and presently looks more gray than green, but it’s still there. In the same position, pushed up against the wall by the back loading door. The very door that I used to sneak in through when I didn’t snag tickets to a sold-out show.
“Can you help me pull this out?”
“You sure you want to touch that?” Looking over my shoulder, Miles’s face is scrunched up in concern. “I’m pretty sure you could get herpes from touching that.”
I snicker. “I’ll risk it.” I hesitate before I place my hand on the armrest, feeling the disgusting grimy cloth under my hands. I remind myself I have hand sanitizer in my satchel before I really commit and tug. For a moment, I’m convinced all my Pilates is paying off because the couch hurtles backward with ease. But when I look to my right, I realize Miles has effortlessly yanked the heavy couch from the wall with one hand, refusing to put the bag of takeout down on any of the filthy surfaces.
“What are you looking for?” he asks.
I point at a cluster of bricks that was hidden by the back of the couch. Across four bricks is a black heart in graffiti. In the center, initials. This was the very spot a boy told me he loved me for the first time. It was also the first time I said it back. Then, I lost my virginity, nestled into this couch.
“Ah,” Miles says with a knowing head nod. “So, you must be RR. Who is PM?”
I shut my eyes for a moment, getting lost in the memory…
I was so nervous that night, and so was he—but for very different reasons. I was shaky and in shambles, completely in love and ready to take the big leap with the man I was certain I’d have children with one day. Petey’s palms were sweating because he was about to take the stage at his first sold-out show. He was performing a brand-new song he was so worried about. So, I decided when he was feeling the most unsure about himself to give him every part of me, to show him how much faith I had in him…how much I loved him. Even at seventeen, I was so sure.
Petey was tender and sweet. He didn’t care about the huge crowd waiting for him to take the stage. He took his time with me. The minute his show was over he was right back in my arms and held me on this couch for hours, thanking me for loving him and for the most sacred gift I could’ve ever given him.
Together, I thought we were invincible. If I could just block out all the rest of the bullshit that would follow between us, it is a perfect memory. I miss him…
The version of Petey who used to really love me.
It took a long time to accept that he was gone. The new Petey, or the real Petey—I’m still not sure—doesn’t make love. He fucks. Every other rhyme he writes these days is about a ménage à trois.
“Just puppy love,” I say. “He’s long gone. But RR is indeed me. Reese Reyes.”
“Is Reyes—”
“Puerto Rican.” I cut in to save him from an awkward guessing situation. “My dad’s mother.” Dad was born in the U.S. but once Grandpa passed, Abuela moved back to Puerto Rico. She still hates America. She only came here for my papa.
“You speak Spanish?” Miles asks.
“Not well.” I chuckle affectionately thinking about Abuela. She still refuses to speak a word of English. I know just enough Spanish to wish her a happy birthday, and a merry Christmas, and to tell her I love her old grumpy ass.
Miles reaches out and bats at one of my loose tendrils of hair. “Explains where these pretty curls come from.”