Page 4 of Sing Your Secrets
“Yes,” I say.
I’m eager to get started. I haven’t been to The Garage in nearly seven years and it was in rough shape then. Despite its name, the old venue is much larger than a regular garage, and I have a hell of a lot of manual labor ahead of me.
“Maybe relax for a day or two?” He furrows his salt and pepper brows at me. “I’m not on a timeline. And I still need to schedule an inspection before we start doing anything in there.”
Brushing my hands off on my pants, I grab a piece of bacon—my preferred hangover cure. Not that I drank last night, but the long-ass drive was far more taxing than a night of partying.
“Do you have anyone in mind? I can call to schedule or look up some inspectors.”
“I suppose that’d be helpful…” Law stares at me with wary eyes as he pops a chunk of cantaloupe in his mouth. Finally, he rises and fetches a set of keys from the desk drawer in the adjoining living room. He sets them on the kitchen island before sliding them my way and returning to his plate.
“I bought it blind. It’s a prime location downtown and the lot was a steal. But from what I understand, it’s been abandoned for a couple of years now. It’s probably in bad condition. No doubt it needs to be gutted. I’m not even sure what I’m going to market it as. Maybe a restaurant or a potential new location for a franchise business.”
“Franchise business?” I ask.
“Sure,” Law says, “like a Starbucks.”
“Ooh, I love Starbucks,” Sienna says clapping her hands together. “Maybe we should keep it. We could open a Starbucks that serves holiday drinks year-round. Pumpkin spice lattes in March. We’ll be rebels.”
“I think that’s against franchise rules, honey.”
“Are you serious?” I can’t help my voice cracking. Law and Sienna both look at me wide-eyed. “Guys, there are enough Starbucks in the world. The Garage used to sell out every single show. They couldn’t keep the bar stocked. You should sell it as a music venue. Whoever buys it could make a small fortune if they restored it to its former glory.”
“In this economy, I don’t think there’s going to be a lot of people lining up to drop millions on a music venue, Miles. I have to keep the property versatile to get a return on my investment.”
“It’s not just a venue,” I explain. “The Garage has history in this city.” One of my many jobs was in a club in L.A. Sure, there were live performances, but nothing’s ever come close to the energy at The Garage. I used to be a frequent ticket holder growing up in Denver. Some of my favorite performances were there—Rumi Marshall, Petey, and Le Bonet all performed at The Garage before they blew up and topped the charts. It’s like the place was a lucky charm.
Maybe I should’ve tried to perform there when I had the chance…
“I can do the reno work to make it the best music venue in a thirty-mile radius, I promise. Please. Let’s just give it a chance and see if anyone bites. And if not, I’ll transform it into whatever you need it to be.”
The renovation shouldn’t be problematic as long as there aren’t major foundational, plumbing, or electrical issues. My dad and brothers own a commercial construction business. Dad says the proudest moment of his life is when he and my brothers officially went into business together. I was supposed to be the fourth signature on that business agreement, but I couldn’t do it. Lorren Family Construction was not my dream. I tolerated laying floors and putting up sheetrock during my high school and college summers, simply to save up enough money to get out of Denver. Dad still has two sons he’s extremely proud of.
Two out of three ain’t bad.
A low grumble of debate bubbles in Law’s throat. “Miles, I’ll keep an open mind. But promise me you won’t go overboard and work yourself to death as some sort of penance. You don’t owe us anything. And you are welcome to stay as long as you like.”
But I do. Law has agreed to pay me way more than I’m worth for this reno.“I won’t be in your hair for long. I am grateful for the job, guys. I’m not going to sit around and be a mooch.” I grab the keys off the counter and dangle them in the air. “I’ll make sure your investment doesn’t go to waste.”
“All right, if you’re that confident.” Law checks his watch and widens his eyes. “Shit, I have to run. My morning meeting is with the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“The heiress to that real estate empire that’s a spoiled bitch?”
Law raises one brow. “Isn’t the saying spoiled brat?”
“I said what I said.” Sienna stuffs another bite of syrupy waffle in her mouth.
“Well, yes that’s the one,” he says, then kisses her cheek. He nuzzles into her neck and mumbles way too loud, “How about tonight I pick up dinner from that Chinese restaurant you love, grab your favorite wine, we can light a few candles—”
He stops mid-sentence, eyeing Sienna up and down as he registers what she’s wearing. “Dammit. The period robe.”
“Sorry.” She scrunches her nose at him.
“Don’t be. Love you, honey. Have a good day, guys.” After draping his suit jacket over his arm, Law disappears from the kitchen. Sienna immediately takes off her robe revealing her SpongeBob pajama set. She could afford Vera Wang pajamas and yet she has a goofy yellow sponge on her shirt.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“As long as it’s not about your—”