Page 26 of Sing Your Secrets
“You know, it’s kind of weird to think you were all in Denver and didn’t know each other before we moved in together. A lot of missed opportunities,” Addie says as she strokes Felices’s furry head.
Technically, Mani and Noa were best friends since childhood. And Addie grew up just two hours South in Colorado Springs. “We found each other when we were supposed to. I don’t think you guys would’ve liked me much in high school. I was wild,” I say.
Quinn raises one brow with a budding smirk. “And you’re not, now? You’ve called me twice thismonth to pick your drunk ass up from the club…on a weekday evening.”
“She called me once this month too,” Addie adds.
“Not a crime,” I sass. “Don’t I get credit for not drinking and driving?”
Quinn squeezes my shoulder affectionately. “Extra credit.”
Despite what people think, the apple doesn’t always fall right next to the tree. Dad and I like to drink and party. He introduced me to the club lifestyle. The only difference is I’d rather walk my freezing ass home after slamming them back. Dad always reached for his fucking keys.
“Anyway, back to The Garage. This Miles guy is restoring it. I walked past on my lunch hour and couldn’t believe the chains around the front doors were gone.”
“Ooooh,” Mani mumbles, still scrolling through my Instagram account. “That’s what this obsession is. Nostalgia.”
“Not just nostalgia. They’re going to pawn it off to the highest bidder when they’re done. The last thing we need is another chain restaurant or convenience store. I didn’t realize how much it still meant to me until I found out it might disappear for good. Then I started thinking about who I was and how many good memories I had there before shit hit the fan with Petey. I miss that girl.” I roll my eyes. “She hated stuffy pantsuits.” I poke Quinn. “No offense.”
“I don’t take offense from the girl wearing lumberjack pajamas,” she snarks back.
“Lately, I’ve been feeling like it’s time to make a change. I’ve been wanting to get back into music. The Garage seems like a sign. I’m going to ask my dad if there’s anything he can do to save it. He might still have some connections to the rich bastards at a few major labels who want to invest.”
Again, I’m met with silence and bugged-out stares. Even Mani pauses her social media stalking plight.
Looking around the room, I watch my best friends exchange obvious glances with each other. I hate when they do this. Because I suck at it. I’m way too blunt and direct to know how to participate in these sneaky, subtle conversations that they’re able to have with just pointed stares and brow raises. “What?” I ask in exasperation when I can’t take it anymore.
Noa clears her voice. “We’ve been begging you to sing for years. We’re just surprised. Suddenly you meet this new guy at The Garage and you’re all about it? That’s…I mean, it’s great. We thought Petey just…” She trails off.
“Just what?” I press.
“Stole that side of you, Pieces,” Addie says affectionately, using her nickname for me. “Quite frankly you refusing to sing is kind of like Michael Phelps refusing to get into a pool.”
“Well, thank you,” I say, “but singing was always just a byproduct for me. I’m more talking about production or management.” The time in my life when me, Dad, and Petey were working on his debut album was the happiest, most inspired of my life. I had purpose. We made plans. I wonder if that train can still chug without Petey on board. “I’m so sick of divorce law paperwork. I’m kind of hoping yours will be the last I prepare,” I say looking at Quinn.
Unwilling to get an annulment and have the record imply that Quinn and Cody got married in a drunken stupor, they opted for divorce. But the way she smiles every time he’s around—the way Cody looks at Quinn like she’s the only woman in the entire world, makes me think they won’t be needing that paperwork after all.
“There’s no rush on that. We’ve got to get through this fake wedding first.”
Mhmm, “fake” wedding.
Cody is swoon-worthy. Joel comes alive around Addie. Chase Ford is a new man with Noa. Honestly, if Mani and I can get our shit together, her prediction about us all being coupled up by our annual end-of-year girls’ trip to the lodge might actually come true.
“Found him,” Mani says, proudly handing my phone back over. “This your guy? Miles Lorren. His stage name is MiLo.”
“Holy shit.Yeah, that’s him. I’ve been trying to look him up for literally two weeks. How did you—” My startled eyes lock on Mani’s. “You only use your powers for good right?”
She shrugs. “Mostly. You’re all safe. That’s all you need to worry about.”
I dive headfirst into Miles’s profile. His profile is public, but he hasn’t posted anything in months. Most of his posts seem to be pictures and videos of live shows at some venue in L.A. They are all taken from what I’m assuming is the bar. He’s always giving shout-outs to other musicians.
But where are you?
Please be a video of you singing.
I switch over to his reels page. I have to scroll past about twenty videos until I see the caption, Cover—Ginuwine Mashup. Bingo.
“I’ll be right back,” I say starting to get up, but Mani grabs me by the elbow and yanks me back down.