Chapter Eighteen
Malik
Iworried about inviting Spencer into my house.
He barely batted an eyelash. Whether I’d adequately prepared him, whether he’d researched my family, or whether he simply assumed all rock stars lived lavish lifestyles, I couldn’t be certain.
We stopped to feed Moses—who dove into his food and paid us no mind—then headed to my place. On the way, though, nerves got the best of me. “See…this is what we should be doing—noise and chaos and fun. Like this afternoon.”
He covered his laugh with a clearing of his throat. He obviously thought he could fool me.
Not possible.
I was getting to know him. His quirks, his tells, and his emotions. Far more than I ever would’ve thought possible.
At a red light, I gazed over at him.
He smiled. “I half expected you to pick up a guitar and start jamming with them.”
“Ah, you know me well.” The light turned green. I checked both ways before advancing into the intersection. “I didn’t know those folks, and it would’ve been incredibly presumptuous of me to just hop on stage.”
“You do sort of have more talent than them.
I grinned. “Is that a compliment?”
He cleared his throat again—almost like telling the truth was painful. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“And you’ll let me play the song for you?”
“Sure. I guess so. Although I think Bonnie and Blossom should hear it as well.”
“You don’t trust your judgement?”
“I’m not necessarily your target audience.”
I turned right on West 16th Avenue. Soon, I hung a left on Yew Street. Headed south, I tried not to pay attention to how many of the houses were so much bigger than most in Spencer’s neighborhood.
After heading down West 22nd Ave, I cut down Valley Drive for a block and then headed into the back alley leading to my house.
Spencer’s silence unnerved me. Was I supposed to react to his target audience comment?
Was he implying he was too old? I was too young?
Maybe too immature? And, most importantly, what’s he going to think of the house?
I pressed the remote, and my garage door slid open.
Once my SUV was safely inside, I cut the engine and pressed the remote.
As always, I watched carefully until the door was down.
“Are you okay?”
Spencer’s words startled me, and I gazed over at him. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve sat here for the last couple of miles, watching you grip the steering wheel tighter and tighter. One would think you weren’t happy bringing me here. I can hop a bus home and—”
“No.” I nearly shouted the word, and it reverberated in the confined space of my vehicle. “Let me plug in the charger, and then we can head inside.”
He telegraphed his movement as he reached his left hand out to place on my right—still gripping the steering wheel.
Slowly I released my grip, then laced my fingers with his. He can feel my sweaty palms. “I come across as a guy who’s got his shit together. That’s…not always the case.”
“You don’t bring people here.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want them to get the wrong impression.”
“Well, let’s lay our cards on the table—what impression are you wanting to give me?”
His words caught me off guard. What was my purpose for bringing him here? I wasn’t certain. Still, I owed him some kind of an explanation. “Maybe I want to sing you the song in the recording studio?”
“Okay.”
“Maybe I want to show off my house?”
“Sure.” He didn’t sound convinced with that word.
“Perhaps I want to share a king-sized bed with just you? No cat?”
He grinned. “On Moses’s behalf, I should be offended. Alas, I’m not. Even right now, he’s spread across my bed like a king on a large divan. We all know who really runs my house.”
“Your tiny cat?”
“Yep. As many pet owners discover—our companions often rule the roost.”
“Well, that’s good to know. I’ve never had a pet, as I told you.”
“Have you considered getting one?”
“I’m often out of the house for long days. We’ve done a couple of small tours. It’s not like I can take a dog or cat with me.”
He appeared to consider. “That’s probably true. Although if musicians can take their children with them on the road, I don’t see why they couldn’t take their pets.” He squeezed my hand. “Now, are you showing me your house, or am I grabbing a bus back to Moses?”
I grinned. “Okay, come on in.” I released his hand and hopped out of the vehicle. While I plugged in the charger, he retrieved my guitar from the back seat.
Without being asked.
His quiet consideration often got to me. He put others before himself for much of the time. Without expectations of reciprocity. In fact, he was uncomfortable when people offered to take care of him. I want to change that.
Once the charger was set, I beckoned him toward the door.
“The garage faces the alley, and it’s bordered by a high fence—so people can’t sneak in the back way.
” We stepped into the backyard and I set the alarm before I closed the door, ensuring the thing was locked.
“The paranoia was mostly my father’s, but it stuck with me.
Everything is alarmed.” Even as I said the words, the back floodlights turned on.
Spencer shielded his eyes. “Christ, that’s bright.”
I panicked with my heart rate galloping. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t think. I can’t turn them off.” I groped for his hand. “Follow me into the house.” I yanked.
“I’m all right, Malik. Just…unexpected.” Still, he didn’t lower his hand and instead allowed me to guide him. Once we were at the back door, and out of the bright lights, he dropped my hand.
I fumbled with my keys, but managed to get the door unlocked. I stepped inside and killed the alarm. “So sorry.”
The light in the back hallway wasn’t as bright, thank God.
I took my guitar from him.
“You don’t have to apologize. Bright lights don’t always trigger a headache.”
I eyed him. “Did it this time?”
He shook his head.
Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. “Can I get you something to drink? To eat? Lunch was a while ago.” After we’d finished our hot dogs, we’d wandered through the park, taking in all the sights.
We’d even wandered over to the motorcycles.
I knew more about bikes, and would’ve stayed longer, but clearly Spencer hadn’t been interested.
Oh, he’d feigned interest—but I knew him better.
In the end, as dusk had set in, we’d made our way to his place.
Moses had a huge stuffed squirrel to play with and a full belly.
I had Spencer.
Somehow, I got the better end of that deal. “Do you want to take your coat off? I don’t keep the place too warm, unless it’s freezing out, but—”
He shrugged out of his coat and hung it in the coat closet.
I put the guitar case down on the hardwood floor and did the same thing.
Then I straightened. “So. Uh…food? Tour? Music?” Why do I feel so nervous?
Oh, right. Because I never bring anyone here.
Certainly no one I care about. That thought brought me up short.
It shouldn’t have—but it did. I cared about Spencer.
No two ways about it. He’d become important to me.
His opinion mattered. I still thought he was a bit of a stuffed shirt…
but he was growing on me. As time marched on, I saw less of my father and his disapproval.
Spencer…he wanted to make me a better person.
My father had simply wanted to browbeat me into submission.
Spencer placed a hand on my arm. “I’m not really hungry yet—hot dog, cotton candy, and popcorn was a lot.”
“Yeah. Amazing we didn’t get tummy aches.”
He grinned. “Yes, a throwback to childhood. Why don’t you give me a tour that culminates in the recording studio? Then, if we’re hungry, we can eat something light.”
“Uh…” I squinted. “Just about everything’s frozen. If you want to eat it, we might consider unfreezing it or putting it on to cook now.”
“Oh.” He pursed his lips. “What were you planning for dinner?”
You.
Somehow, though, I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he meant. “I don’t have plans.”
“So we could do a salad?” He grinned. “You should see your face.”
“Hey, I eat salad.”
He arched an eyebrow.
I pursed my lips. “Okay, not recently. I mean, I ate healthy from the café.”
“That was days ago.” He linked his arm in mine. “Let’s check out what you’ve got in the kitchen.”
Deciding we could circle back for the guitar, I guided him into the massive kitchen. The family room was part of the colossal space. I pointed. “Dining room is in there. Very formal. I never use it.” Well, almost never. I pointed toward another archway. “Living room. Very formal. I never use it.”
He grinned. “So you like it here? It’s…” He spun around.
“Not cozy?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to say that. I think you could fit my entire condo in this space.”
The kitchen and living room combo ran the length of the back of the house. “You’re probably not off with that estimation. The primary suite is directly above here and the same size.”
He gaped.
“Well, just about. That includes two walk-in closets that are each bigger than your sleeping area, a five-piece bathroom, and a lounging room.”
“You have an entire room for lounging?”
“Northeast corner. You can see some wicked sunrises.”
He pointed to the back of the house. “North facing?”
I nodded. “Still gets plenty of light. The front foyer is two stories with massive glass windows. We look out over Trafalgar Park. My parents bought this house for the prestige—but didn’t factor in the noise of the park. We rarely opened windows on the south side of the house.”
“Sheesh. I love the noise kids…” He trailed off. “I wouldn’t keep the windows closed. Especially if there’s a nice breeze. Nothing like airing the house out.”
I paused, my hand on the handle of the freezer. “Does it feel stale?”
He shook his head. “Far from it. Just…I love fresh air. Admittedly, city air isn’t the cleanest, but when the wind blows in off the Georgia Strait and brings the tang of water? There’s just something to that.”