“If I ask you something, will you give me an honest answer?”
“Maybe.” Adam crooks a smile and nods. “Shoot.”
“Why do you want to sign Dempsey?”
“What do you mean?” He’s gone sort of shifty, no longer holding eye contact with me.
“You don’t even like their music,” I accuse. “So is it only because you know they can make you money?”
His gaze flashes back to mine. “No. That’s—of course I like them.”
I raise my eyebrow. “I tried to sign Dempsey for Exeter years ago,” I say, pacing my words deliberately. “You said they were unoriginal. And I believe the word you used to describe Curtis’s drumming was ‘sloppy’?”
I know he remembers his comments as well as I do.
He takes a long drink of water, stalling. “I always liked them,” he says eventually.
“You said Freddie Dempsey sounded like an off-brand Kurt Cobain.”
Adam sighs through his nose, sounding sheepish. “When you brought in their demo I was just being…”
“Jealous?” I supply with a goading smile.
His jaw ticks. “Pretentious.”
“That too.”
No good can come from continuing to pick at this scab, so I pointedly shift my attention to the stage. The dancer fireman spins down the pole and squats when her heels hit the stage. Her hair is cropped into a blunt bob with bangs. It may or may not be a wig, but either way she’s rocking it. And I know for a fact that haircut is not easy to pull off. Iris tried it last summer and spent the entire month of July looking like a thirteen-year-old boy who had just rolled out of bed. She’s been desperately growing her bangs out for the wedding ever since.
Adam is still staring at me.
It’s a heady thing, holding Adam’s attention when there’s a topless woman dancing fifteen feet to his left.
I grab my tote bag and push to my feet. “I’m going to use the restroom. Why don’t you start looking through any pictures you have from last night, see if you can figure out the name of the bar we went to after the chapel.”
Unsurprisingly, since I haven’t seen a single woman on the floor besides those who work here, the ladies’ room is unoccupied. I pee and wash my hands, and then press my damp palms to my neck. I linger a few extra moments in front of the sinks, if only because it’s a momentary escape from theheavy bass and flashing lights and Adam’s not-altogether-unflattering attention. It’s not exactly an oasis in here, though, so I give myself a stern reminder that Adam is the competition and it’s wholly irrelevant that his stare makes something spark across my skin, and then I head back to the table.
When I get there, Tyler is in Adam’s seat. “Where’s Adam?”
Tyler gestures behind him. “He needed to make a few calls to follow up on the ID. No phones allowed on the floor, so he went outside.”
I nod and slide into the chair across from him. It’s far from silent in here, but it feels distinctly uncomfortable all the same, now that Tyler and I are alone and without any specific business to discuss. He’s ditched his tie and rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, making him look decidedly more laid-back than I feel.
“Wow, I sort of wish we could get stoned right now.”
“Technically, we could,” Tyler offers, but he seems to know I’m not actually up for it.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a moment. “That I didn’t let you know I was going to be in town.”
Tyler gives an easy shrug, slouched low in his chair. “No worries. I know you were here on business.”
That may be true, but it’s also pretty obvious at this point that if this bullshit with Adam hadn’t happened, I would’ve had plenty of downtime. I should’ve called. But the truth is, Tyler never even crossed my mind until I needed something from him, which makes me feel supremely shitty.
“Still. I should’ve reached out sooner.” I should have reached out a long, long time ago.
But again, Tyler waves this off, because he is too nice.
“How’ve you been?” Something about the way he tips his head tells me he already knows the answer.
