Page 11 of Movers and Shakers

“But I still have a job to do. So, we’re pretending everything is fine.”

“Nothing is fine. He cheated on you and you’re allowed to be angry about it. You’re a human, Lila.”

She looked out the blackened windows, where people searched for her. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be.”

“You’re always supposed to be human. That’s the best part about any of us. That’s what’s good about your music.”

Her eyes met mine again, one corner of her mouth lifting. “My old music, you mean.”

“Your new stuff isn’t all that bad. You still write it.”

“And apparently, it breaks records and puts me in the number one spot.”

“No. Don’t worry about that kind of stuff. It gets you nowhere.”

She blinked at the harsh tone that escaped me. I regretted letting it slip, but the talk about breaking records reminded me a little too much of my parents.

And they’d always be a sore spot for me.

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

“A little. My parents are the kind of people who only care about accomplishments. I got out of there quickly.”

Her eyes trailed around the bar. “You’re doing well for yourself.”

Please. Tell me that again.

I’d mastered never needing anyone to compliment me.

Except for her.

“I think I am too. Who needs parental approval when you’ve built a successful business out of nothing? Besides, I’ve always given them a hard time.”

“How so?”

“My dad wanted me to work at his company. In some suit and tie. It was never for me. But they both never hesitate to let me know that I’m messing things up.”

“Butlookat this place.”

“They don’t see it that way. But I showed them. If you go look out there”—I pointed to the front window—“you’ll see a tall building with the name Murray and Sons on it. I put up my sign right in sight of his office so every time he works late, he can see exactly how much I am nothing like him.”

“His logo looks . . .‍”

“Like a dick? Yeah, there’s a whole Reddit account dedicated to it. I may or may not have started it.”

She laughed. “That’s a level of petty I aspire to be.” Her eyes went distant for a moment. Then she turned to me. “Do you have a pen and a napkin?”

I nodded and brought them to her. She scribbled down something, dark hair obscuring her face.

“What do you think of this?”

A man designed to live in his father’s shadow, all he had were expectations.

So he built a castle in the dark corners, erasing all that preparation.

“Is that . . . about me?”

“Yeah.” A small smile crossed her face. “You’re inspiring.”

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