Sebastian polished off his sandwich and made another. “More?” he asked.
“No thanks. I’m good.” Henri’s late night caught up to him and he yawned. “I think I’ll turn in early, if that’s all right with you.”
“Sure. I’ll clean up down here and see you in the morning. By the way, I provide meals, but don’t expect maid service. I’m a singer, not a servant.”
Hell, the guy had to be hard up to take a total stranger into his home. For all he knew, Henri was an ax murderer. He gave no sign of recognition. Surely Lucas had told the man who’d be sharing his roof. While Henri hadn’t counted on five-star treatment here, he had at least expected his host to be impressed. He was Henri Fucking Lafontaine for fuck’s sake!
It was going to be a long month.
* * *
“Loo, loo,loo, loo, loo, loo, loo, loo.”
The loo-loos traveled from high to low and back up the scale. Henri lay awake, staring at the ceiling.Make it stop!Every note pounded through his skull.
“Loo, loo, loo, loo, loo, loo, loo, loo.”
Sebastian had a great voice, but did he have to have a great voice at… Henri checked his phone… 7:00 a.m.? A pillow over his head didn’t help much. If he’d known he’d entered the lair of an early riser he wouldn’t have stayed up until two. He flipped the covers back, nearly knocking his MacBook to the floor. For three full hours he’d stared at the screen, typing a few words and later deleting them. “Heaven and Hell” lived up to its name, promising one and then giving the other.
At one point in time, words and ideas flowed from his brain to his fingers. Now, the injustice of abandoning his brainchildren to somebody else pissed him off so badly he couldn’t write. Still, Lucas had made a good point. Best to start anew. New band, new music, new attitude. Only, please, could he do it at a later hour?
He pulled on yesterday’s jeans while mulling over the matter of a new band name. He struggled into his T-shirt. Henri Lafontaine was the largest part of Hookers and Cocaine. Any publicity he gained in the future would inadvertently boost them as well. Oh hell no. No freebies. They’d made their last dime off of old Henri.
He followed the loo-loos down the stairs. Going back to the name Henry was out of the question. Who’d buy a rock album from Henry? He stopped in his tracks at the kitchen door. Sebastian danced around the sun-lit space, loo-looing away while periodically checking pans on the stove. The scent of coffee teased Henri’s nose. Coffee. Beans of the gods. His stomach growled from whatever burbled in a pot. Sebastian glanced up, smiling when he noticed Henri. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I’m one of those annoying morning people. This is my favorite time of day.”
Oh. One of those. They should come with warning labels. Well, it was only for a month. Hopefully by then Lucas would have worked his magic and redirected Henri’s career. Henri decided on honesty. “Actually you did.” Sebastian’s smile fell. It returned with Henri’s, “But if some of what’s cooking is for me, you’re forgiven.” Might as well be nice—at least until after breakfast.
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Now, what would you like to drink? I have coffee, tea, and orange juice.”
“Coffee works.”
“Help yourself.” Seb nodded toward a nearly full pot. A cup tree like Henri’s grandma used to have held a trio of cups. Another sat near Sebastian’s elbow by the stove. “Oh, and since you’re not used to the altitude, you might get a headache.” He handed Henri a bottle of ibuprofen and returned to his cooking and loo-looing.
Henri swallowed two pills and washed them down with orange juice. “What are you doing?”
Seb brandished a spatula. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“I meant the singing.”
Both auburn-colored eyebrows rose toward Sebastian’s rather high hairline. “Don’t you do vocal exercises to keep your voice in shape?”
“Vocal exercises?” He was kidding, right?
“Didn’t you learn drills from your teacher?”
“Teacher?”
Confusion flashed across Sebastian’s face and settled into disbelief. “You’re a world-famous singer and you’ve never had lessons?”
Henri shrugged. “No. I just sing. It’s a gift.”
Sebastian slapped his free palm over his face. “This is going to be a long month.”
“Got milk?” Henri stared into the refrigerator—one of the few new-looking items in the home.
“Milk? You drink milk?” Seb drew back as though from a rather nasty bug.
“What’s wrong with milk?”
