I laugh. It’s all Icando. Noah freaking Hayes.
“What?” she says defensively. “His music has soul, and his lyrics are meaningful.”
I twist my goblet of water around and around. The irony doesn’t escape me. Mia thinks I’m a shallow, vapid narcissist, while she admires Noah Hayes. I could obliterate her idea of him in thirty seconds flat.
But I’m not going to. I’m not here to crush dreams. I’m here to make hers come true.
Besides, much as I hate it, Noah is a fellow Fusion artist, so I need to watch myself when talking about him.
“Okay,” I say, leaning forward again. “So, you don’t like my music. That’s fine.”I don’t either, I want to say. But I can’t. I think it’s actually written into my contract, which I get. Who’s going to believe in my music if I don’t? Not that it’s reallymymusic, but we’re getting into semantics there, and there’s really no point. It is what it is. “If you can’t stomach coming on tour because of that, there’s nothing I can do about it. You wouldn’t be able to bad-mouth it if you agreed to join the team, either. But I want to make it clear that I want you on this tour. I think you’d be an amazing asset to the team. I’ve listened to your stuff, and you have an incredible voice, Mia.”
Her lashes flutter, and she looks down. Does she not realize just how amazing her talent is? I could fall asleep to her voice every night.
“We haven’t been given the funds to take an actual band on this tour,” I continue. “We’ll be using backing tracks, which makes the backup vocalists that much more important.”
Mia glances up at me just as Jennifer arrives with our food. We both go quiet as she sets the plates down. Once she’s gone, Ishuffle the plates and drinks around so that the Wagyu is in front of Mia and the cheese platter is in the middle.
“Oh,” she says, pushing the Wagyu toward me. “I got the salad.”
I put a hand on hers to stop her. “Mia.”
She meets my gaze.
“I ordered itforyou. Does it not look good?”
She swallows, salivating. “It looks… good.”
“Great.” I take up my knife and fork, pleased I guessed right. “I think you’ll really like it.”
“Thanks,” she mutters as she picks up her utensils and starts carefully cutting into the juicy steak.
“Look,” I say, dipping my first bite into the sauce. “It’s not going to be a European holiday. It’ll be long hours and hard work. But we’ve built in some time to enjoy the cities we’ll be stopping in, and it could be a really great move for your career—if you’re interested in pursuing music in that way, I mean.”
“I am.” The response comes fast, and I can hear the want in her voice. She seems to realize how overeager she came off, since she clears her throat and cuts another piece without even eating the first one. “Iaminterested in it,” she says in a more measured tone.
I like that Mia’s passionate, even if I kind of wish she didn’t dislike me with so much of it.
“Good,” I say. “You should be.” It would be a shame if Mia’s talent went underappreciated. It certainly is right now.
She takes her first bite of steak, chewing a couple of times. Her chewing slows and her eyes widen.
I smile. “Taste okay?”
“Pretty okay,” she says, trying to chew in a slow, refined way.
I chuckle and take a bite of my own food. This is why I come to Mama Choo’s. Their steak can’t be beat. “You can eat normally, Mia.”
I take a drink and set down the glass as Mia goes to town onher steak, the salad forgotten. I smile and work on cutting more of mine. “I can give you two days to think about the tour, okay? But after th?—”
“I’m in.”
My head whips up.
Mia’s looking at me, her gaze clear and determined. “I’m in,” she repeats.
I search her face, then nod and stick out my hand, hoping my expression successfully conceals how relieved and happy I am. “Welcome to the tour, then, Mia.”
5
