Page 627 of Rock Me All Night
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The insideof the mansion is just as beautiful. The ground level has an open floor plan. The kitchen, dining table, and glass door are on one side. The glass door that leads to the balcony lets in soft, white light. The other side of the room is dimmer, yellow and fluorescent. It houses two couches, a TV, a coffee table, and a piano.
Miles and Pete are sitting on the piano's bench. They're lost in their own world. They don't notice me come in.
I pour a glass of water. They seem busy. I hate to interrupt, but I'm starving.
"Do you mind if I raid your fridge?" I yell to the other side of the room.
"Help yourself to anything," Miles calls back. His voice echoes around the room.
I stay busy fixing a snack. There's plenty of food in the fridge. Actually, there's a ridiculous variety of food in the fridge. Everything from fresh pasta to Thai curry paste to vegetables I barely recognize. A water chestnut, maybe?
"Are you guys hungry?" I call back. "I can make something."
There's murmuring on their side of the room. Finally, Miles replies.
"Make enough for four. Meg is studying upstairs." His voice softens. "Thanks, Jess. Nice to have someone who can cook around. My girl is hopeless at it, and she's never gonna learn if I keep making her breakfast and dinner."
"Does she live with you?" It's strange yelling the conversation across the cavernous room, but it's nice focusing on something besides my thoughts.
"Some of the time. She's going to med school in Irvine. It's about an hour and a half south without traffic. With traffic, could take three or four hours. She stays with her parents during the week."
"You miss her?"
"Mhmm." He chuckles. "Course she'd never get anything done if she lived here all week. She looks damn cute when she's studying. Can't resist distracting her."
"Pete's the same way with me." Sort of.
Miles tsk tsks. "Can't get in the way of an ambitious woman. Thought you had better game than that, Steele. Her career's gonna come first."
I can't quite make out Pete's reply. But it must be something clever, because Miles's chuckle fills the room.
"No wonder I don't let you write any songs," Miles says. "It'd be pure filth." He sings. "Baby you always come first, dripping on my face as I plunge my tongue into your cunt."
My cheeks flush. Did Pete actually say that?
Uhhh. Need to focus on anything else. "Do you have any dietary restrictions?"
They whisper something else and chuckle. Finally, someone calls out a no. I scan the fridge for my options. The thing is full of exotic ingredients—gangal, snapper, scallops. How the hell do you cook a scallop? I'm determined to find out.
I settle in the kitchen and browse recipes on my phone.
Miles and Pete shift back into working. By the time I've decided on a spicy stir fry dish, they're playing around with piano riffs. It sounds like they're having fun. Every few minutes, one of them bursts into laughter.
It's strange—the sad piano ballad mixed with their infectious laughter—but it's fitting. Like my mood the last few weeks.
The food cooks quickly. Everyone breaks to eat. Even Meg comes down from her room. I let her and Miles lead the conversation. They joke about little things—Star Wars, Tom's face when he's pissed, a neighbor with a ridiculous yellow SUV.
They don't press me or Pete for details about our relationship. They aren't the snooping type. That, or our lie is more seamless than I think it is.
After lunch, I set up shop on the couch with my required reading. The guys go back to work.
This time, I'm close enough to listen.
I know how to use my hands
my mouth, my hips
