Page 10 of Movers and Shakers

I wouldn’t waste it.

“And what about fun?” she asked. “You never answered that.”

“I tend to the bar. I make sure everyone’s happy. And . . . I play guitar.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“I do. Sometimes I take the stage if an artist cancels.”

“Wow,” she said. “I bet everyone loves that.”

They did, but not because of me. I sanghersongs and no one could deny her talent. Especially when I sang the ones no one knew. “Not as much as they love you, I’m sure. You’ll be releasing a new album soon, right? You do it every few years.”

Her eyes fell to her drink. “I should be. We have another tour set up, but I might not meet my deadlines. I haven’t written anything my agent’s liked in ages.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“Everyone wants love songs from me, but I don’t have any left. All I have arenotwhat fans would like.”

“Can you show me?”

My heart pounded in my chest. I hadn’t been able to attend her concerts in the years since I opened the bar.

“I don’t have a whole song written.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “But I do have some ideas. If you wouldn’t mind sharing your guitar, I can show you those.”

My heart raced as I nodded. I had one in the back that I’d played tonight.

Once she had it in her hands, she walked on the stage, sitting on the one stool I’d left. The lights seemed to dim despite me not touching them, focusing only on her.

“This is what I have.”

She played a chord, which was lower than most of her songs.

And she let out lyrics I’dneverheard from her before. They were angry and spiteful.

And it could only be about one man.

The song stopped abruptly, her face twisting in frustration. “That’s all there is. I didn’t finish it because my agent didn’t like it.”

“Your agent is an idiot,” I said, and she slowly lifted her head.

“You liked it?”

“I did.”

“But I don’t think my fans would. They want love songs. And I’m . . . not in love. So they’re hard to write.”

I sucked in a surprised breath. She wasn’t in love with Blaze? She caught my slip and her hazel eyes trained on me. I carefully placed my calm exterior back on my face. “They would get used to it.”

“Then you haven’t seen all the fan edits.” She handed me the guitar. “He cheated on me, you know. That’s when I wrote that.”

I jerked back. He cheated onher?How did a man have someone like Lila fucking Wilde and then blow it by cheating? And how did she not murder him when she found out?

I’d do it for her if she asked, and the conviction I felt was almost terrifying.

Lila let out a long sigh, looking at her feet. “I’msoangry, Barry.”

“You should be.”

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