How could she sing between thetears?
Mulling over the words in hernotebook, she rearranged the lines that formed the chorus. She could imaginesomeone great singing her songs with smooth perfect vocals that rose and fellin time with the music, but she didn’t think she could ever follow through. Hearing her pain all over the radio wasn’t exactly her style.
A few minutes later, Brennanwalked out and placed her food in front of her. It was just a burger. She wassurprised. She had thought he would have come out with something creative.
“Best thing on the menu,” he toldher, refilling her water.
She hadn’t even noticed that shehad drained it. She guessed the hangover had dehydrated her more than sheknew.
“Thanks.” Devon added ketchup tothe burger and then dug in. “Wow! This is great!” She had never been aburger fan, but this was outstanding.
Brennan nodded his head, like heknew she would like it, as he leaned back against the bar. “How long are youin town for?”
“Just the week,” she said beforetaking another bite of her burger.
“Gonna be hanging out at my barwhile you’re here?”
Devon looked up at him, trying tofigure him out. Did he want her there or was he hoping she wouldn’t bethere? Or was he simply making conversation? “Probably,” she answered.
“Alright.”
“Why?” she asked curiously.
“Didn’t know how much tequila Ishould keep in stock,” he said without even cracking a smile.
Devon, however, laughed at him. She preferred his humor to him assessing her. “I’d keep it handy.”
“I’m thinking I’m going to haveto.”
“You think you’re going to haveto do what?” Hadley walked up behind them, intercepting the end of theconversation.
“Hadley!” Devon turned around togreet her friend with a smile.
“Hey, good to see Brennan istaking care of you for me. I see he’s feeding you the burger,” she said with ashake of her head. “He thinks it’s the best thing on the menu. He’s wrong. It’s the chicken.”
“Hadley, always so opinionated,”Brennan said, straightening as she approached. He started pouring her a drink.
“Is it really opinion when it’sobviously fact?” Hadley asked, taking the seat next to Devon.
“She thinks all of her opinionsare facts,” Brennan told Devon, pushing the drink toward Hadley.
“Aren’t they?” Devon asked with asmirk.
“Oh, so you’re on her side then?”
“Was there ever a doubt?” Hadleyasked.
“I tend to doubt everything.”
“And I tend to disagree witheverything you doubt,” Hadley told him with a shrug.
“Just drink up and stopdisagreeing with me,” he said with a smile.
Hadley shrugged again, sipped onher drink, and turned to face Devon. “So, how was your day? Did Garrett showyou around the city?”
“Yeah. We had a great timebefore he had to go to work. The city is beautiful. Why haven’t I been herebefore?” Devon asked.
“I don’t know. It’s not like Ihaven’t asked you to visit.”
“Just had that little thingcalled school,” Devon told her.
“School. Psh! Who needs that?” Hadley’s lips quirked up. She glanced down at Devon’s notebook and tapped ittwice. “You still writing?”
“I haven’t changed that muchsince you left,” Devon said.
“Can I read your latest?” Hadleyreached for the notebook with a knowing smile.
“No,” Devon responded quickly,pulling the notebook off the bar and stuffing it back into her bag. She pickedup the pen again and began flipping it between her fingers absentmindedly.
Hadley laughed and shook herhead. “You really haven’t changed. You should let more people read yoursongs. They’re really good, Dev.”
Devon blushed and looked backdown at her food. She didn’t want to have this conversation, especially not inpublic. She had too many emotions locked in her notebook. There was no wayshe was just going to open it up.
“Brennan could even play guitarfor your lyrics,” Hadley offered without Brennan’s approval.
“What’s that?” he asked, leaningforward.
Hadley glanced at Devon as ifasking for permission to continue. Devon rolled her eyes, knowing she didn’thave much choice now that Hadley had already started.
“You play guitar?” Devon asked,being quicker on the draw.
Brennan seemed artsy enough, butshe wasn’t sure if he actually fit the bill. She had grown up aroundmusicians, and while he seemed to have the whole desperate bartending routinedown, there seemed to be something more to him. Her distaste for her ownlyrics bled over to people who thought they could play instruments. She wastoo accustomed to how musicians acted and how they thought they ruled theworld. They weren’t exactly her speed.
“Devon writes lyrics,” Hadleyinterrupted.
“Yeah, I play,” he said, lockingeyes with Devon. “You write? I wouldn’t have pegged you.”
“A little,” she said with ashrug. She liked proving his judgments wrong. “I wouldn’t have pegged you asa musician.”
“I’m a struggling musician.”
“What are you doing in Chicago ifyou’re a musician?”
“I said I was struggling.”
“And by struggling, you mean youhave no talent?” Devon asked arching an eyebrow.
“I have talent,” he said, offhand like it didn’t matter what she thought. It likely didn’t. “I just find Ishould spend more time on my bartending talent while I continue to fail theentrance exams to get into med school.”
Devon swallowed, her mindimmediately going to Reid. She felt really bad that she hadn’t told him thetruth. He was going through such a hard time, applying to medical schoolhimself, and she had just left him to go through it alone.
Maybe she should call him.
No.
She couldn’t do that withouttelling him that she had lied, without telling him that she wasn’t in Paris forthe summer. Then, she would have to go back to St. Louis, and she just wasn’tready for that.
“He has talent,” Hadley said asif it were the most painful thing for her to admit. “I’ve heard him play. Doyou have an open mic gig this week? We could stop by.”
“Nah,” Brennan said, shaking hishead as a large group walked into the bar. “I don’t have anything for a coupleweeks.”
“Bummer,” Hadley muttered. “They’re so much fun. We’ll have to take you up to the bar at the John Hancockbuilding before you leave. That will be fun. I was up there once. It wassnowing on the ninety-ninth floor, but it wasn’t even raining on the bottomfloor. When are
