He slid back into his chair and grabbed a doughnut. “Do you guys think we can all work with Miles?” he asked.
“It’s more like whether you can,” Erica said. “Are you still mad at him?”
“Why are you mad?” Archie asked.
“I’m not sure if he really likes me or if he’s just been using me to get this whole concert-recording thing going.”
“He seems sweet,” Mary Anne said as she walked back in, having changed into a T-shirt and denim shorts. “And just from the outside, it looks like he’s into you.”
“But what if he’s just acting?” Gavin asked. “He’s a guy, after all. Guys have been known to do lousy things when sex and money are involved.”
“Speak for yourself,” Archie said, and Mary Anne snorted.
“Let’s just assume that you and Miles can make up and we move forward,” Mary Anne said. She waved a pen, which had pink feathers attached to the end, at them. “So where do we start?”
“We need original songs,” Gavin said. “Miles says we can’t make a CD out of covers. He knows a guy in Nashville, and he’s looking for stuff for us to sing.”
“Archie writes songs,” Mary Anne said.
“No,” Archie said.
“You do?” Erica asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“He doesn’t like to show anybody, but he’s really good,” Mary Anne said. “Go on. Sing one for them.”
“Come on, Arch,” Gavin said. “What’s the worst that can happen? We’ll laugh at you. We already do that.”
Archie kicked him under the table, and Gavin yelped.
“Fine,” Archie said. He began to sing a cappella, without any of his usual beat-boxing or other vocal techniques, and Gavin was surprised at how smooth his tone was.
The song, about walking a girl through fields of tall corn, had a mellow vibe with a catchy chorus, and Erica joined in, adding a couple of trills to her voice, as if she was the girl Archie was walking with.
“That was so awesome,” Mary Anne said when they finished. “Even better with the girl’s voice, Arch.”
“She’s right,” Gavin said. “I had no idea you were so multi-talented. I can barely read music, much less write it. Do you have others?”
“Not that I can sing by heart,” Archie said. “And most of them aren’t finished.”
“Maybe Miles can hook you up with his songwriter friend,” Erica said. “To help you finish and orchestrate.”
Gavin loved the way the pink feathers flapped as Mary Anne wrote furiously in her notebook. They spent the rest of the morning brainstorming, singing bits of music and making plans.
“Where are we going to rehearse?” Erica asked. “I’ve been thinking about that. At first I thought we could just record our own individual tracks and Miles could mix them. But if our thing is choral harmonies, we need all the voices singing together.”
“I can quit my job and move back in with my parents,” Gavin said. “And then the three of us could get together on weekends, at least for a start.”
“But what about Miles?” Archie asked. “Don’t we need to be working with him?”
“If Archie and I are going to quit our jobs, we could come to Miami,” Mary Anne said. “I’d be happy never to see another Wisconsin winter.”
“If this happens, it won’t be fast,” Erica said. “I’ll finish out this semester in Madison. I can take a leave for the winter term and come to Miami to work with everyone. Then if things don’t work out, I could just go back to school in the fall.”
“We can’t think that way,” Archie said. “If we’re going to do this, we have to be all-in. No fallback, no safety net.”
Everyone looked at Gavin. “My roommate Manny might be moving out by Christmas,” he said. “He’s been dating his boss hot and heavy. And if we had to, we could double up.”
“That’s not what we need to know, Gavin,” Erica said. “You have to talk to Miles and make sure he’s willing to go ahead with everything.”
“And we have to tell our parents,” Archie said. “My dad plays golf with Mr. Baxter, who owns the bank. He’s going to bust a gasket when I tell him I’m quitting.”
“Who? Your dad or Mr. Baxter?” Gavin asked.
Archie glared at him. “Who do you think, Sherlock? If Mr. Baxter knows who I am at all, it’s just that I’m Wally Olson’s son.”
“My dad can help with the family stuff,” Gavin said. “And don’t discount the power of the grannies. If Grandma Frances, Aunt Myrtle, and Aunt Ida go along with us, everyone else will follow.”
Mary Anne stood up. “Come on, Arch. Let’s get dressed for a visit to Eau Claire.”
Erica and Gavin said their good-byes and left first. “Are you going to call Miles?” she asked once they were in the car.
“I know I should. But I kind of want to see him in person first.”
“Then at least text him so he knows you aren’t dead or mad at him.”
Gavin pulled out his phone and composed a brief text.
in WI w cuzins. talk 2 u soon.
“That’ll have to hold him until I get back,” Gavin said.
It wasn’t far to Eau Claire, and Erica parked in front of his parents’ house. They found his father dozing in the hammock in the backyard while his mother worked in the garden.
“I thought we weren’t going to see you again,” his mother said, putting down her trowel. She wore yellow rubber gloves that matched her sunshiny blouse.
“Change of plans,” Gavin said.
Archie and Mary Anne arrived a few minutes later, and the four of them spilled out their ideas, talking over each other in their enthusiasm.
Finally, his father held up his hand. “What does Miles say about this? Remember, you three signed a contract with him, that he would produce any music that came out of the concert.”
“I haven’t spoken to him yet,” Gavin said. “I’ll go see him tomorrow night when I get back to Miami.”
“Remember, he’s an artist too,” his father said. “More of one than some of you.” Gavin was sure his father meant him. “And none of you have the music experience he has. I can help you with business, but I don’t know anything about putting together a CD.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Gavin said, parroting back one of his father’s favorite expressions.
Gavin’s mother laughed, but his father looked stern.
“And remember, you have a written agreement with the man. If it turns out you really can’t work together, then there are going to be legal battles.”
His father promised to talk to his own cousins—Archie’s dad, Wally, and Erica’s dad, Scott—and lean on them to agree. Archie and Mary Anne drove back to Chippewa Falls, and Erica and Gavin got on the highway to Madison.
Gavin leaned back in the passenger seat, closed his eyes, and thought about Miles Goodwin, trying to figure out once and for all how he felt. The more he thought about Miles’s behavior, the more he realized how much Miles had done, without any concrete expectation of success. The Singing Sweethearts could have bombed on stage, or they could have done nicely and then faded away without a second thought.
Miles had dedicated endless hours to coaching them and preparing the video and audio files for upload. Yeah, he got a percentage of sales revenue, but that couldn’t be enough to justify all he’d done.
Had he done it for Gavin, then? There had been passion between them, and Gavin couldn’t believe Miles had been faking. Had Gavin been a fool to get irritated and walk out?
When he opened his eyes again, they were approaching the Madison city limits. “I need to call Miles,” Gavin said abruptly.
“So call.”
“In private.”
“We’ll be at my apartment in fifteen minutes.”
“I can’t wait, Erica. I have to do it now. Can you pull over?”
She glanced over at him. “You’re serious.”
Gavin grasped the door handle. “Absolutely.”
“Fine.” Erica swerved neatly into a supermarket parking lot. “We’re going to need food for dinner. I’ll shop while you talk.”
Gavin jumped out of the car, and the moist heat reminded him of Miami. His fingers shaking, he pressed the speed dial for Miles’s cell and stepped from foot to foot as the phone rang.
“
This is Miles. You know what to do
.”
The beep that followed was not at all what Gavin had been expecting, and he stumbled over his words. “Miles, it’s Gavin. I want to talk to you. Please call me as soon as you get this.” He hesitated, added, “I miss you,” and then pressed the End button.
He found Erica in the produce aisle.
“You’ll eat eggplant parmigiana, won’t you?” she asked him.
“Don’t you want to know what Miles said?”
“If you talked to him that quickly, the news wouldn’t have you still hopping up and down. So I’m figuring you left him a voice mail.”
“Can you use low-fat cheese?” he asked.
“He’ll call, Gavin,” she said. “Yes. We’ll get part-skim mozzarella. You can slice the eggplant.”
They loaded up the wagon and then drove back to Erica’s apartment. Gavin kept looking at his phone, but there were no calls or messages from Miles.
“He might be in the studio,” Erica said. “You saw how he got when we were up at Starlit Lake. He puts those headphones on, and he’s in another world.”
Gavin grudgingly agreed. When he crashed on Erica’s couch that night, he kept the phone close to his ear in case Miles called. But when he woke Sunday morning, the result was still the same. No word from Miles.
Erica drove Gavin to the airport on her way to her audition. “Knock ’em dead, cuz,” he said. “Not that it will matter, because soon, we’re going to be famous.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Now go home and make nice with Miles.”
Gavin tried Miles once more before he boarded the plane but got the voice mail again. He fidgeted in his seat, eager to get back on the ground in Miami, as the plane streaked south. He’d been planning to go back to his apartment, but he wanted to see Miles as soon as he could.
It wasn’t far from Gavin’s own apartment; if he got there and Miles was out, he’d just go home. But if Miles was home…then Gavin would get points for the romantic gesture, right? If Miles was angry, then showing up on his doorstep ought to make him happier.
He was glad that all he had was a carry-on bag. He threaded his way through the busy airport to the taxi rank and waited impatiently for his turn. Only, when he got into the cab, he realized that he didn’t know Miles’s exact address.
“The Bass Museum on Miami Beach,” Gavin said, remembering that Miles’s condo was somewhere nearby.
“You on your way home?” the cabbie asked as he pulled into traffic.
“Depends on if I get lucky or not,” Gavin said, crossing his fingers reflexively.
Gavin sat back and watched the Miami skyline fly past, all the big new buildings popping up around the edges of downtown. It was late afternoon by then, and the cruise ships were beginning their slow procession away from the Port of Miami, out of the narrow channel called Government Cut that ran parallel to the causeway. Passengers lined the railings and stood on balconies, waving good-bye to their everyday lives.
As the cab climbed the last bridge before Miami Beach, Gavin’s heart was flooded with the sight of so many condo and apartment towers, all that neon, the action of the streets, and the lights in so many windows. He was home.
Now if only Miles was home too.
The cab dropped him in front of Miles’s building. The concierge called Miles’s number, then nodded toward the elevator. Gavin ran down the hallway and pressed the button in rapid succession until the doors opened.
He hurried out of the elevator and then stopped in front of Miles’s door. The doorman had called; why hadn’t Miles opened the door for him? Was he mad? Or getting ready? He remembered a short story he’d read in high school, called “The Lady or the Tiger,” about a guy in some kind of arena, who had to choose one of two doors. Behind one was the woman he loved, behind the other, a tiger who would maul him to death.
At least Gavin only had one door. He knocked, and almost immediately, Miles opened the door. “I’m sorry,” Gavin said. “For being a jerk and doubting you. I just got back from Wisconsin. I convinced Erica and Archie that we should sing together. But we need you.”
“I can’t, Gavin,” Miles said. “I can’t work with your group without wanting to be with you. It would just tear me apart.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “This is why I didn’t want to sleep with you until after the concert. Because I know the kind of guy you are. You jump from one guy to the next, one idea to the next, and you never look back. You’re handsome and sexy and smart, and I love your voice—but I’ve already had my heart broken by someone like you, and I’m learning from my mistake.”
He stepped back into the apartment, and Gavin thought he was going to be invited in. But Miles stopped. “I wish you success, Gavin, I really do. I know there are a lot of music producers who will be happy to work with you.”
Then Miles swung the door closed, leaving Gavin out in the hallway with his carry-on bag at his feet.
Shift Change
The walk from Collins Park to Sunset Harbour was one of the longest Gavin had ever experienced. Though it was only a half-dozen blocks, his feet felt like lead, his heart had fallen to his stomach, and every step required an enormous effort.
How had he screwed this up so badly? He’d thought that once he convinced Archie and Erica, Miles would fall in line behind them. But he had been wrong…again.
When he got back to the apartment, Larry and Manny were in the living room watching TV.
“How was your trip to Wisconsin?” Larry asked.
“Wisconsin was the easy part. It was only when I got back to Miles that everything went to shit.” He collapsed into the easy chair and dropped his bag on the floor.
“What, is this the first time a guy has ever turned you down?” Larry asked.
Gavin crossed his arms over his chest, aware he was reacting the same way Miles had. “I’ve been turned down. But this wasn’t for sex.”
Manny grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. “What happened?” he asked.
Gavin told them about convincing Erica and Archie and then Miles’s refusal.
“So he doesn’t want to be your producer,” Larry said. “Find another one.”
Gavin shook his head. “I don’t want another producer. I want Miles.”
“For what?” Larry asked.