Chapter Twenty-One
Spencer
Iread the fear in his expression. He was worried I’d say no. That I’d reject him. At least here, I could reassure him. “Yes, I’ll move in with you. We need to talk about Moses and all the precious things in this house—”
“He doesn’t give a shit about any of that.” Creed gestured to the stove with his chin. “Pay attention.”
“Right. Shit.” Malik resumed his stirring. “I should be jumping up and down for joy, right?”
“Did you think I’d say no?”
“I think you’ve got a good thing going. Ten-minute bike ride to the office—”
“And it’s thirty-five minutes from here along the Seaside Bicycle Route.” I shrugged. “Or it’s forty-five minutes and two buses on transit.”
“Or you could take your electric SUV. How long would the drive be?” He scrunched his nose. “I should know this.”
“Peak rush hour? Forty-minutes.”
“It might be quicker to bike.” He continued to stir the hot chocolate.
Reluctantly, I let him go and made my way to the cupboard with the mugs. I gestured to Creed.
He grinned and nodded enthusiastically.
I pulled down seven. If anyone didn’t want coffee, tea, or hot chocolate, we still had water, a few different kinds of soda, and milk.
We.
Funny how I felt so comfortable in this house. Yes, it was ten times larger than any place I’d ever lived in. Yes, it was formal and elegant and all these things I wasn’t. Even my downtown condo, when I’d been working my corporate job, hadn’t been anything like this mansion.
Yet, in this space with Malik, comfort enveloped me. Basically, we stuck to his bedroom, the kitchen and family room combination room, and the recording studio. Those were our happy places.
Move in? Is that wise?
I pursed my lips as I sorted out packets of tea we could offer.
Reese barreled into the room. “Oh my God, what’s up? Freddie texted and said you were being all secretive. Oh, is that hot chocolate?”
Malik added more milk to the saucepan and continued stirring.
Creed slung his arm around Reese. “I might’ve made things sound more mysterious to get Freddie riled up and to light a fire under his ass.”
Not a bad strategy. Freddie was, invariably, the last to arrive.
“I’m home.” Freddie bellowed the words from the front door.
Everyone in the band had keys, and we turned the alarm off when we were expecting everyone.
For all the fanciness of the house, there hadn’t been any break-in attempts.
Surely the multiple surveillance signs and the motion-activated lights would deter anyone.
Someone brazen enough to try a daytime robbery was likely to be foiled as well.
Freddie strutted into the kitchen and dropped his knapsack on the floor.
I pointed. “Pick that up. We’ve got company coming.” I turned to Malik. “Kitchen table or dining room, do you figure? Or something more comfortable?”
“You’re thinking formal?” He cocked his head as he continued to stir the bubbling liquid.
“I think seven people can fit in the family room or the kitchen table. I think if you want a more of them versus us then the dining room makes more sense. Maybe you four on one side, Mickey and Pauletta on the other and maybe me at the head?”
“Switzerland?”
Freddie opened the fridge. “Who are Mickey and Pauletta…” He slammed the fridge door shut. “Pauletta? Like Pauletta Magnum?”
Malik grinned. “Yep.”
Reese, who’d been dispensing the chocolate, paused. “Why is that name familiar?”
“Because she’s Grindstone’s manager?” Creed snatched the powdered chocolate before she dropped it.
“And she’s coming here?” Reese might’ve squeaked that.
“Yep.” I pointed to the coffee maker.
Everyone shook their heads.
Apparently I’d made hot chocolate converts of all of them.
Reese pressed a hand to her belly. “Why? What did she say?”
“She said she had something to present to us and she wanted to do it in person.” Malik turned the burner off. “So that’s five hot chocolates?”
Everyone else nodded.
Reese spooned chocolate powder into each mug and stood back as Malik poured milk into each. “There’s enough for two more if that’s what Pauletta and Mickey want.”
“Who’s Mickey?” Reese snagged a spoon from the drawer and mixed the chocolate five times over.
“Her…” Creed wrinkled his nose.
“Partner.” I prompted him as I eyed Reese and tried to figure out how soon I could get my hands on my favorite drink.
“And they’re a director.” Malik put the saucepan back on the stove, choosing a cold burner. “They directed the Grindstone documentary.”
“Oh wow. That’s so cool. You heard Axel wound up getting together with his teacher, right? How he sang a song to the guy at Rocktoberfest and now they’re a couple?” Freddie sauntered over to snag a mug—clearly having forgotten whatever he’d planned to grab from the fridge.
“They’re going to be here in just a few minutes.” I grabbed my mug. “We need to decide where we’re going to sit.”
“Is this, like, a formal thing?” Reese put the spoon in the sink and swiped her mug.
“She said she’s bringing a contract for us to look over.” Malik shrugged. “She didn’t give specifics.”
“I made it clear no one is signing anything tonight.” I met each of their gazes. “Your entertainment lawyer is one of the best in Vancouver—so you’re going to listen to her.”
Creed rolled his eyes.
Malik swatted him. “This is serious.”
“Hey, I am serious.” Creed appeared vaguely wounded with a furrowed brow.
“Is she offering a representation deal?”
I nodded. “That was my understanding. And something about an executive producer.”
“She was a little cagey about that. Award-winning.” Malik used air quotes.
“Ah.” Even as Reese said the word, she jolted when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.” Malik headed for the front door. Just before he was out of sight, though, he met my gaze. “Family room.”
I nodded. After he left, I turned to the assembled group. “How about you make yourselves at home? Malik and I can prepare the drinks.”
Creed locked arms with Reese and gestured to Freddie with his chin.
The three headed toward the far side of this cavernous room that stretched the length of the back of the house.
I’d always thought the space large and imposing.
With the three of them chatting excitedly—albeit quietly—the place felt less imposing.
This house was meant for lots of people.
I could imagine how it had been with just Malik and his parents.
Equally able to swallow up just Malik and myself.
Add the band, though, and now these two strangers?
The place felt more alive than it had in the entire time I’d been staying here.
And he just asked me to move in. That had to mean something. Tonight? Of all nights? The winter solstice was an incredibly important day for Indigenous people. I wasn’t one, of course, but this had always been Pike’s favorite day of the year.
“This is the family room slash kitchen.” Malik guided two people into the room.
One was slightly shorter with brown curly hair and curious eyes. Likely Mickey, although I’d never seen them in person.
The other was a stunning Black woman who was nearly Malik’s height. Pauletta Magnum commanded presence on television—she was even more stunning in person.
“We have hot chocolate, tea, cola, water…” Malik met my gaze with a touch of desperation.
I grinned, pulling from my years of experience of making people feel at home. “Hot chocolate is still quite hot, and everything else will take mere moments to make.”
Pauletta linked arms with her partner. “We both love hot chocolate and rarely have it.”
“Two mugs coming up. Marshmallows or plain?”
Mickey’s eyes lit.
Pauletta laughed.
“With marshmallows coming up.” I hadn’t given it to the others—an oversight—but they could ask if they really wanted, and clearly they hadn’t. Or had been too nervous to think about it.
The three people moved my way, and I organized the drinks.
Mickey and Pauletta followed Malik toward the family room while I ensured the kitchen was more or less put to rights.
After a moment, I joined the group, taking the seat next to Malik.
The space held two long couches and four comfortable chairs.
Reese, Freddie, and Creed occupied one couch, Malik and I the other.
Our guests sat in chairs next to each other that had been moved closer together. While Mickey sipped their hot chocolate, Pauletta whipped out the contracts. She passed them around.
Everyone except Mickey put their hot chocolates on the coffee table and sat back. Only Malik and I actually started to read the contract.
Freddie waved his copy. “Can you topline this? Spencer says our lawyer needs to look over everything anyway.”
Pauletta cocked her head at me. “Are you their rep?”
“Just a boyfriend and concerned party.”
“You’re a far way from corporate law. Or environmental legislation.”
Ah. You’ve done your homework. Well done. Not that I expected any less—any rep worth their salt would walk in prepared. “And you’ve only ever repped Grindstone. Yet here you are.”
“I spoke to them before coming here. They’ll always be my first clients—and I’m forever grateful—but I am capable of being attentive to more than one band.”
“Your loyalties will always lie with them.”
She cocked her head. “I will ensure you never come into conflict with them.”
“I believe they’re competing for a spot at Rocktoberfest.”
“They’ve gone the last two years without incident. No reason they won’t return if they want to.”
Malik shot me a glance before focusing on Pauletta. “Why would they not want to?”
“Meg, their drummer, just had a baby. She and Big Mac will have their hands full.”
Big Mac was also a member of the band.
“Don’t they have a tour before then?”
“A smaller one, yes. Culminating in a performance at Massey Hall in Toronto.”
“Rocktoberfest is just one performance.” I pressed my knee to Malik.
“That’s true. I believe if they want a spot, it’s theirs. Several other bands won’t be attending, however. Also, they’ve opened up more slots since the event continues to grow in size.” Pauletta held my gaze.