Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
SALVATORE
Keeley marches into my office Friday morning with a notebook in her hand and a Cheshire-cat grin lighting up her features.
Meaning... I’m totally fucked.
She hasn’t mentioned our little outing all week, most likely because I spent the last two days in New York, and I thought—hoped—she’d forgotten.
Wishful thinking.
It’s not that I don’t agree with her. How can I not, when everyone else is telling me the same thing? Paige. Easton’s mom, Rochelle. Even Camilla said it again jokingly. Making light of the breakdown in our marriage.
I should have a better work/life balance. The problem is I don’t even have time to think at the moment, let alone have fun.
Though when Keeley bounces her eyebrows, excitement reflected in her eyes, it’s impossible to deny her.
“This isn’t work-related, is it?”
“Nope.” Her smile widens, as if that’s possible.
“Okay, what are we doing?”
“I know I said to keep tonight clear. But what about tomorrow? I was thinking we could learn to surf. Unless you already know how. I just assumed you didn’t.”
“You assumed?” Should I be offended?
“Something about you screams ‘I can’t surf.’”
“Wow. You’re right. But I’m not sure how I feel about it. What is it about me?”
“Does it matter? Are you in?”
“You know I’m fifty-two, right?”
“What? Since when? I could have sworn you were only fifty-one.”
“Ha. Ha. That was my way of saying, I’m not surfing.” Face-planting in the waves and getting sand in places that should never see sand is not my idea of fun.
“Lucky for you, I have back-up ideas.”
“Of course you do.” I bite back a smile, but a little of my amusement sneaks through. “I’ll bet you added our little outing to your to-do list and blocked time for it.”
“I did. It was color coded purple for ‘fun.’” She uses quote fingers for “fun” and I chuckle.
“How often do you use that color?”
“Every day. Work is…” She trails off when I cock an eyebrow, her lips thinning as she suppresses a laugh. “Fine. Never. It’s new. But I plan on using it a lot more in the near future.”
“Good for you. What other ideas do you have to torture me with?”
“Bowling.”
My face contorts without my consent and I find myself apologizing. “Sorry, bowling is?—”
“Not it. Moving on. What about live music?”
My brows lift as the idea of that sparks excitement in my chest. “Live music. I’m listening.”
“Oh, yay. We’re getting somewhere. Amelia, Luke’s wife, is working with Poetic Nightmares on their new album. She’s creating music videos for their first two releases. She mentioned they’re performing their last album in its entirety this weekend and she can get us tickets.”
I stare at her, racking my brain to see if I’ve ever come across the name Poetic Nightmares, but I’ve got nothing. I love music. Only now that we can stream everything, I tend to listen to music I know I’ll like—bands or singers I’m familiar with.
I’m lost in thought when Keeley throws her head back and laughs out loud. “You’ve never heard of them, have you?”
“Nope. I couldn’t name a single song.”
“Okay. Poetic Nightmares is out, but music is in. Progress.”
“I didn’t say that. I said I haven’t heard of them before. That doesn’t mean I won’t like their music.”
“Do you like rock?”
“I do.”
“With an emotional twist.”
“Isn’t all music emotional?” I frown, confused.
“I wouldn’t say that. Surely, you’ve heard the very famous song ‘Who Let The Dogs Out’?” Keeley bounces her eyebrows and I stifle a laugh.
“I’d say that’s highly emotional to someone who lost their dog because someone else left the gate open.”
Keeley snorts before covering her face in her hands.
“How about I try a different approach? What music do you like? Actually, don’t answer that.
Let me guess.” She stares at me intently, her eyes wide as she twists her lips, drawing my attention to her mouth.
I watch her as she thinks, her bright red lipstick bringing back memories that I should not be conjuring.
“Elvis?” she asks, pulling me out of my head.
“Elvis?” I balk. “I have nothing against Elvis or his music, but he’s not exactly my jam.”
“Your jam?”
“Yep. Try again.”
She giggles softly before staring at me some more, this time with her pointer finger trapped between her teeth. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she was doing it on purpose.
“I bet you love “Summer of ’69” by Bryan Adams.”
Dammit. She got me there. “What’s not to love? It’s a good song.”
“I knew it. Is that your era? Do you like the older stuff?”
“I may be old, Keeley.” A lot older than you. “But I’ll have you know I listen to a lot of different eras. Only I’m not familiar with anything that was released after streaming began.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I use music to lift my mood, and it’s easier to choose something I know I’ll like, rather than try to find a diamond in all that new music they’re producing daily.”
“You’re right. You’re old. That’s such an old man thing to say. You’re practically saying ‘in my day.’”
“Guilty.” I roll my eyes and Keeley once again hits me with her infectious laughter. “Music was just better back in my day. In fact, I bet I can play five songs from the different eras I enjoy, and you’ll not only know them, but love them. Maybe even get a little emotional.”
Keeley raises a single manicured eyebrow, her lips quirking in intrigue. “I’m up for that. Where’s your phone?”
“Uh-uh. You said we had to have an outing, right? Let’s make this an outing.”
“Oh-kay.”
“I’ll meet you downstairs by my car at eight p.m. tomorrow. Assuming you’re going to be here.”
“I’m always here. But tomorrow?” It’s her turn to frown, only hers is in confusion.
“Yep. It’s my turn to do some planning.” I have to find a decent cover band, and I have to find it fast.
My driver, Jeffrey, stops in front of an old dingy-looking bar, and Keeley’s eyes dart to mine, her gaze puzzled as I help her out of the back seat.
“This is not where I pictured you taking me tonight.” As she stands, her eyes rake over my body and she huffs out a laugh. “Although, I should have guessed considering your casual attire. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything other than a suit.”
“Where did you think we were going? The ballroom at the Ritz?”
“Something like that.” She smiles as she shrugs and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Oh, Keeley. You are about to get schooled on music.”
“Schooled? Really?”
“Yep.”
“Bring it on.”
With my palm resting against the base of her spine, I guide her past the entry and the line of people hovering outside, leading her to a weathered metal door at the side of the building. Keeley gasps quietly, her eyes once again flashing to mine. “Who are you?”
“I’m the same man you knew earlier today.”
“Just more fun.”
“The fuck? I’m fun.”
“Yeah, okay, Mr. Workaholic.”
“It takes one to know one, Ms. Workaholic.” Jesus. What is with me? If Paige heard me talking like that, I’m pretty sure she’d disown me again.
Keeley laughs so hard you’d honestly think we were drunk, but I’d say it’s more likely that we both need to get out more. Maybe then, we’d be acting normal right now. Whatever normal is.
“So, Mister? Sir.” She stares at me pointedly when she says “sir” and I bite back a growl. She knows how much I hate that.
“Yes? Miss. Ma’am.” I raise a brow in triumph and Keeley rolls her eyes.
“How do we get into this fine establishment?” She gestures to the door and I bounce my eyebrows.
“Allow me.” I step around her and knock on the door, waiting patiently for the band manager to open up.
The band I found was incredibly agreeable to my plans.
Turns out, they’re San Francisco born and raised and huge fans of The Storm.
All it took was the promise of six tickets to the season opener, field level, and I had them eating out of my hands.
“Sal, my man.” Nick, the band’s manager, holds his fist out for me to bump it, and I don’t need to look at Keeley to know her eyes are alight with amusement.
“Nick. Thanks for hooking us up tonight. We’re looking forward to it.”
“Anytime, man. Come on in.”
I turn to Keeley, gesturing for her to walk in first, and find her biting back a grin. “Hooking us up?” she mouths, unable to suppress the sparkle in her eyes.
“Shh.” I hold a finger to her lips before grabbing her hand and leading her inside, ignoring the warmth of her palm in mine while we follow Nick as he guides us to the main bar, seating us at a table near the side of the stage.
After a self-introduction to Keeley, one that’s a little flirtier than I would like, Nick disappears backstage and Keeley turns my way.
“We couldn’t line up like everyone else?”
“No.”
“Why? Because this saved us, what? Five minutes.”
“Nope.” I chuckle. “Turn around; I think you misjudged the line.”
Keeley turns and her eyes bulge as she bursts out laughing, grabbing my hand in the process. “Who are we seeing? I thought it was a little cover band. How did I not notice how big this place was?”
I stare down at our connection before following her gaze to where hundreds of people are filing in. My eyes drift back to Keeley’s awed expression as she watches the huge warehouse quickly fill up.
From the outside, this place looks tiny, but looks can be deceiving.
And this “little cover band” is about to tour with one of the biggest names in the country.
They’re performing tonight as a thank you to the fans that were there at the beginning of their careers.
Before they wrote their own music. Music that, like Poetic Nightmares, I had never heard before this morning.
“This is Time Persuasion. You may have?—”
“Bullshit. I thought you liked older music?”
“I do. Tonight, they’re doing a covers set with a few of their own songs thrown in.
I heard two of them today. They’re not bad considering their generation.
” I wink and Keeley laughs even harder, affirming my decision to set this all up.
She needed a break from our all-consuming world, and if I can give her even a night to unwind, I’ll be happy.
“I have to admit, I’m surprised by all of this. By you.”
“I had a life once. I wasn’t always Mr. Workaholic. I just had to remember how that life works.”
“You did good. Did you have help?”
“Of course I did. Tabitha held all my calls and canceled my meetings, while I ran around like I was in my twenties again, trying to find the perfect gig.”
“And you struck gold. I can’t believe we’re here. I love Time Persuasion.” Her eyes sparkle again, brighter this time, and I can’t remember ever seeing her so giddy. If that’s the right word. It’s beautiful to witness.
“Good to know I’ve still got it. I used to be the man with all the plans in college. The guy my friends turned to for a guaranteed good night out.”
A server appears with two drinks that we didn’t order, and I glance toward the bar, finding Nick talking to a much younger bartender, shamelessly flirting without a care in the world. He looks over and waves in acknowledgment as I offer my thanks.
Keeley picks up her glass of red wine, taking a sip before smiling in appreciation. “This is my favorite. How—” She cuts herself off and laughs. “You think of everything, don’t you?”
“Didn’t you hear me the other day? I’m an observant fucker when I want to be.”
“So it seems. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“To like-minded individuals.” Keeley raises her glass to cheers and I follow suit.
“To like-minded individuals and old man’s music that you’re going to love.”