Page 16 of Sing Your Secrets
“Sauceless?”
He nods, his eyes locked on mine.
“Nope.” I dip my half into the salty broth. “I prefer it wet.” I flash him a playfully wicked smile and his eyes pop into wide circles. “Dripping,” I continue and he tries to hold in his chuckle. “Absolutely soaked,” I add before I fill my mouth with Out West’s signature sandwich.
Now, he’s laughing hard. “Okay, I knew it. You are trouble,” he manages through light huffs. “Anyway, I owe you an audience.”
Twisting my lips, I shoot him a puzzled glance. “Huh?” I mumble.
“The Garage…” He holds up the last bite of his sandwich. “You share your lunch and I hear your ideas about this place. Right?”
Chewing as fast as I can, I swallow the lump of bread and tender meat. “This place was iconic. Everyone was devastated when Dom passed. He didn’t have any friends or family who were willing to take it over, so the bank snapped it up and let it rot. But when it was in fighting shape it was the most—”
He holds up his palm. “Believe me, I know. I used to love this place.”
“Oh. So, you know it well too, then?”
He shrugs. “My name isn’t graffitied backstage or anything, but yeah, I used to catch shows here all the time. Actually, not to name-drop but I got to see Petey perform here before he really blew up. Goddamn, he puts on a good show. I caught his concert in L.A. while he was on tour for his album, Radar.An entire stadium—sold out. It was a great show. But I think he was better when he performed right here.” Miles throws his head back toward the brick building behind us.
For a moment there, I was really floating in the high of happy.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “I caught a few of his shows here too.” Every single fucking show. “You’re a fan of rap?”
“More than a fan.” As Miles stretches out his legs, his knee bumps against my outer thigh and I invite the delicious nerves to have an all-out rager my chest cavity. “I love hip-hop. I consider myself more of an R&B singer though.”
Turning my head slowly with bulging eyes, I look at Miles like a shark who got a whiff of blood. “You’re a singer?” I should’ve known. My past is like a super magnet. I knew my attraction to this stranger was rooted in something deeper than his sexy, crooked smile.
He trails his fingers over his beard slowly, buying time, like he’s reluctant to say more. “I’m trying to be. I stayed in L.A. so I could be closer to the labels I’m trying to sign with. I’m back home for a little breather. It’s been hard to get traction.”
His eyes drop to the concrete and I recognize that hollow expression on his face. Poor guy must be getting his ass-kicked by the industry.
I tuck my feet in as a car slowly creeps through the alley as if it could run over my toes from way over there. Grimacing, I watch the driver’s irritated expression when he realizes he’s ventured down the wrong road. No matter, this street will feed right back into sixteenth street if he follows the detour. Downtown Denver is built like a grid. It takes more work to get lost than not.
“Sing something,” I demand, then scrunch my face. “Sorry, I mean—may I hear you sing something?”
His brows arch in surprise. “Right now?”
“Yeah.” I flash him a coy smile. “I’m curious if your definition of R&B is Justin Bieber after he got tatted up.”
Miles guffaws. “Not quite. No shade to Mr. Bieber, but I prefer the older stuff.”
“Older?” I raise an eyebrow. “Are we talking like Marvin Gaye and Midnight Love old?”
He chuckles. “First of all, I will never get tired of the original ‘Sexual Healing.’ None of these covers do it justice. Marvin sang it best.”
“Agreed.”
“But I guess a lot of my R&B inspiration comes from the early 2000s.”
“Ginuwine?” I ask with a grin that starts to take over my entire face. I’m loving where this conversation is going.
Miles nods enthusiastically. “And Usher, Maxwell, Sammie, John Legend, Pharrell—just to name a few.”
“Ten bucks says ‘Bed’ by J. Holiday is your go-to karaoke song.”
“For shame, Reese,” he says with a gasp before he shoots me a wink. “It’s ‘Differences.’ I still listen to that song once a week, I swear.”
“Stop it.”Miles looks concerned at my reaction. After fishing through my satchel still draped around my shoulder, I pull out my phone and hand it over. “Open Spotify and just press play. Guess what I was listening to earlier today.”