Beats of the Heart - Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Miles and Shawn sat outside in the garden. Because there was a chill in the air, Miles had turned on the electric fire pit to keep them warm. They were still sipping on their whiskey but enjoying the small sanctuary.
"Are you sure you're okay with Rob and Courtney crashing at your place?" Shawn asked, breaking the silence.
"A little late for that, considering they're already settling in." Miles chuckled. "But no, I don't mind at all."
Shawn took a drink from his glass, and Miles had to admire his every movement. How his fingers delicately wrapped around the glass. The way his lips touched the glass. The way his neck flexed and highlighted his subtle beauty marks. And then he licked his lips to capture the moisture of the alcohol. He would be content to watch him like this forever.
Shawn seemed to have felt his stare and turned toward him. Miles didn't shy away and was captured by his dark eyes and knowing smile.
"Rob and Court are good for Danny," Miles finally said, leaning back into his chair, breaking eye contact.  He closed his eyes and sipped his drink.
"I still can't believe you're Danny's brother. I half feared that I would be walking into Will's house." Shawn said.
"Well, my standing in the family is a bit... complicated. Not many know about me."
"Why is that?" Shawn winced from his own question and added, "If you don't me asking."
Miles smiled. "I'm the illegitimate bastard. Mom met Larry at a bar, and he was quite the charmer. All it took was a one night of bad decisions, and suddenly she was a single mother at 21."
"Shit. I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry. Mom and I made it work." Miles shrugged awkwardly but didn't elaborate on his relationship with his father or family. It was easier to retreat behind his walls. No one wanted to hear the sob story of a bastard.
Shawn seemed to have a question at the tip of his lips but held it back. He appeared to be reluctant to push boundaries.
Instead, Shawn leaned back and shifted the subject. "Tell me about yourself, Miles Mendez. There's so little known about you, and I admit I'm curious."
"I'm pretty sure I have a portfolio online or something. Not too sure how up-to-date the Dirge website is." He dragged his hands over his stubble. "Fuck. I need to check that, don't I."
"Considering you don't have a picture posted of yourself, I would recommend it. You can drum up a lot of traffic with your looks alone." Shawn laughed, causing Miles to preen from the compliment inwardly. "I have read your profile, though, and you have impressive college credentials. However, it's not very telling."
Miles flushed at the fact that Shawn had read his profile. He kept it somewhat bland with a few accolades. He was more focused on his artists.
"What do you want to know?"
Shawn chuckled. "Many things. But let's start with something simple. What are your likes and dislikes?"
"I'm simple," Miles said quietly, contemplating his answer. "I hate vodka but can't say no to whiskey, bourbon, or scotch. Not a big fan of people, so I keep my circle small and avoid most social settings. Definitely not an outdoorsy kind of person, so if you want to take me out on a date, don't even think about hikes or picnics."
Miles blushed when he said that last part. Perhaps the alcohol was going to his head if he was dropping not-so-subtle hints about dates. However, Shawn seemed unfazed and grinned.
"Noted," Shawn said, his voice taking on a deeper tone. "What's something you can't live without."
"Music," Miles answered without hesitation. He then practically whispered his mom's sentiments, "There's magic in music."
Shawn's eyes flickered with interest. "And your favorite type?"
"Every genre has something to offer. But Jazz and the blues will always be special to me. My mom was singing Etta James since I was in the womb, and I was raised in front of the piano." Miles' countenance brightened while speaking about music.
Miles tapped on his chair as if he was creating a beat. "As much as I love the music my mom played, I fell for hip-hop. There's something poetic about the cadence of hip-hop and rap, and so much could be relayed in a few bars—anger, sorrow, political statements, getting laid. On top of that, the beats are what dreams are made of."
"I have to admit; I have little experience with hip-hop."
Miles shook his head. "You have more exposure to hip-hop than you know. The very streets you walk down have been saturated in my world. You just need to listen carefully, and you will hear it."
"And turntablism?"
Miles closed his eyes and hummed with pleasure. "Fuck, you have no idea how sexy that word is coming from your mouth."
Miles suddenly slapped his hand over his mouth and flushed. "Fuck, I said that out loud."
Shawn laughed. "So, this is something I should say more often. Go on, Miles, tell me about turntablism." His voice dipped a little, causing Miles to bite back a groan.
Miles shook off the feeling. "For me, turntablism is the tool that can bring it all together. I can sync my favorite lyrics with my favorite beat and create something brand new and uniquely mine. I have seen a club vibing to a beat, and then the DJ mixed in the Cheers theme song. The entire club stopped and sang along. It was... inspiring and wholesome. It proved that music could bring people together for one single moment.
"There are so many possibilities on a turntable," Miles continued. "I have seen others mix in Bollywood, Disco, Country, K-Pop—anything and everything. A turntable is the melting pot of all music."
Shawn was giving him a thoughtful look. "So why run Dirge instead of making music?"
Miles seemed to freeze. That was the question that he had been asking himself. "I suppose I wanted to help other DJs in my own way. Give them a chance in this world."
Shawn seemed to accept that answer and was silent for a moment. "Honestly, if I didn't know about your passion behind Dirge, I would have encouraged you to take the artist route. You have a voice that can shake things up."
"Is that the CEO of Aura Entertainment talking?" Miles jested.
Shawn chuckled. "Perhaps. If you want my professional opinion, you can establish something unique with the right resources."
"And Dirge can't do that for me?" Miles asked. He knew that his tone was crisp. He didn't mean to become defensive, but it seemed to be his natural state around someone of Shawn's caliber. Once Shawn started to talk like a CEO, he put up walls.
Shawn seemed to realize Miles was pulling away. "I don't know what Dirge can offer. You only support DJs, and you do a great job with them. How would you develop a singer?"
Miles sighed with resignation. "I wouldn't. I know jack shit about cultivating a singer. Besides, that's not what I'm into."
Shawn chuckled. "I didn't know what I was doing when I started Aura. I got by with some luck and found a group of people smarter than me."
Miles sighed with melancholy. "But you thrive in the business side of things, don't you? The meetings, the pressure, the legalities."
"You don't?"
Miles shook his head. "Dirge started as a necessity, but I never wanted it to be my career. Why did you start Aura?"
"For the meetings, the pressure, and the legalities," He joked, drawing a laugh from Miles. "Between you and me, I started it because of my aunt. She was a phenomenal actress on Broadway, but she always lamented about the lack of resources and support at that time. When I became old enough to start my own company, I decided to go the route that would help people like my aunt. It's become addicting for me. I invest, develop, and see people obtain their dreams." Shawn smiled happily.
"Well, shit. You make this whole thing sound so... fulfilling. I'm definitely lacking in that regard."
"I'll let you in on a little secret," Shawn said as he leaned closer to Miles. "I have more bad days than good. I have failed more times than I have succeeded. I just have a damn good PR team to make me look better."
Miles laughed, covering his face with a hand. "Christ. Well, kudos to them because you look damn good most days."
Shawn's eyebrow quirked up. "Just most days? I need them to work harder to impress you every day."
Miles nudged his arm. "Idiot," he muttered.
Shawn smiled warmly. "I respect you and what you're doing at Dirge. Don't forget that you're giving people an opportunity. That's the opposite of lacking."
Miles released a heavy sigh. "I don't think it's enough anymore. How many amazing DJs are out there that are trying to get by on Twitch or social media? How many could produce the next great beat, but no one dares to listen? How many spend their nights in shady clubs just trying to be heard? My meager efforts for 6 DJs do nothing in the grand scheme."
"Are you really thinking about selling?"
Miles closed his eyes as if in pain. "I don't know. I have been doing this shit for 8 or 9 years now, and instead of the passion you exude, I'm burnt out... and that's not fair to my crew."
Shawn watched him carefully. "What would you be doing if you didn't have to worry about the business side of things."
Miles smiled. "Something else. And it would be so fucking liberating."
"But you have declined every offer that has been presented to you. Why?"
"Are you going to drop another offer tonight?"
Shawn chuckled. "I'm just curious."
Miles hesitated and spun the empty glass in his hands. "It's the same issue as before. These agencies want my DJs to make the music they think is profitable instead of embracing their unique sound. Make it more house, sexier, less scratching. Music is a mirror and should reflect the artist's soul, not be some broken-down commercialized rhetoric."
Miles' frown deepened. "Very few people are willing to take on 6 young DJs, especially when they are ignorant of my DJs' style and culture. Besides, most of their offers were for Requiem. They want me to drop everyone except him because he is the biggest name out of all of them. That's bullshit, in my opinion. If anything, Requiem has more experience, but it doesn't make him better than the others. So, it doesn't matter if I'm tired or unhappy. I will never abandon the people who put their trust in me."
"You're a better business owner than most," Shawn leaned back into his chair. "What does your girlfriend or boyfriend say about it?"
Miles laughed with a shake of his shoulders. "No. No boyfriend. Between Dirge, The Apple, and Danny, there's no time to consider a relationship." His laugh tapered off into a sigh. "Just don't tell Danny about that. He has started to show concern regarding my chronic self-isolation."
Shawn smiled. "My lips are sealed."
Miles fell quiet and stared intently at the glass, fighting his nerves. "What about you? Who has captured the heart of the great Shawn Pierce?"
Shawn's breathy laugh was like music to Miles. "Despite my mom's desperate attempts, there isn't a boyfriend in the picture. No one has held my interest long enough to press the pause button in my life."
Miles bit his lip to stop smiling. Shawn specifically said, boyfriend. And despite the beautiful people surrounding Shawn, he was single.
The lights inside flicked on. Because the sun had set, the light had illuminated the dark garden. Danny, Rob, and Courtney were causing a stir inside and were laughing about something.
Shawn and Miles sat in comfortable silence as the other three ran around the parlor. Miles started to hum an old song he enjoyed in quiet moments while Shawn listened with his eyes closed.
However, their moment was broken when he heard glass shattering on the ground. Miles groaned. "If I pretend I didn't hear that, maybe it didn't happen."
"Then I heard nothing," Shawn said, again closing his eyes.
Miles continued to hum the song stuck in his head, his fingers lightly tapping out the beat; however, they were interrupted again when the back door opened.
"Um, Miles?" Danny asked meekly.
Miles bit back a curse. "Yes?"
"How... um... expensive was that bottle of whiskey?"
Miles' shoulders slumped, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Is anyone hurt?"
"No."
"Then it's fine," he said. "It's late now. Perhaps you three should consider winding down for the night."
"But it's only midnight," Danny pouted but became self-conscious about his response. He mumbled out a meek, "I'm sorry."
Miles could hear the dejection in his voice—a conditioned response. It was a clumsy and rough day for Danny, and his history with their father would only compound deep self-doubt. Miles stood up from his chair and placed his hands on Danny's shoulders.
"You didn't touch the glass?"
"Not yet. I was going to clean it up."
Miles shook his head. "I got it. It's been a day for you three. Try to get some rest because you still need to study for your tests tomorrow."
"I'm sorry," Danny repeated.
Miles flicked his forehead. "Shit happens. I can buy hundreds of those bottles, so it doesn't matter."
"But then the fire today—"
"I'll just buy a new pan." Miles searched Danny's face hoping he let go of his self blame. He tried to comfort him again when he continued to see the trepidation. "Seriously, Danny. Small kitchen fires and broken bottles happen. I don't care about these things as long as you're not hurt. You are my priority—not some shit I can buy. Just take a breather and try to rest. Tomorrow will be a better day."
Danny smiled and hugged Miles. "Thanks, Miles." He closed the door and met with the others.
Although Miles said he would take care of the mess, he could see that Courtney and Rob were already cleaning it up.
"You're great with him," Shawn had come up from behind Miles, placing a hand on his lower back. "I've seen him grow up through those god-awful parties, but he has never shown such... life."
"Larry has a knack for sucking the joy out of people." Miles sighed ruefully. He leaned towards Shawn, relishing the hand wrapping around his waist. "Danny deserves all the encouragement and support in the world."
Shawn pulled him closer, turning him so they could face each other. His hands now gripped his hips. "You're a good man."
Miles flushed. "Not really."
"I beg to differ."
"That's because you hardly know me," Miles whispered, sobering him from the atmosphere. He stepped out of Shawn's grasp. "Honestly, I'm greedy and selfish. I know that a part of me started Dirge because I didn't want any other asshole to make a profit off Requiem. I take care of my DJs because they can make me money. And though I want to take care of Danny because I care, a part of me does it to spite our father."
"We're allowed to be selfish. I'm the same way." Shawn said gently.
A chime came from Shawn's phone, and he pulled it out reluctantly. The notifications made him frown a little. "Seems like work is calling me in for a long night."
Miles winced. "So late?"
"It happens," Shawn said quietly, taking his keys from his pocket. "I should head out to handle this."
Miles wanted to protest and invite him to stay the night—to offer his home to deal with whatever work-crisis was pulling him away. However, he contained the potential outburst.
"I see. I'll walk you out." His voice was heavy with his reluctance; however, he still led him through the parlor and stopped at the door.
"Are you okay to drive?" Miles asked as Shawn slipped on his jacket.
Shawn leaned against the wall and smiled. "I am. I paced myself."
Miles nodded. A slight bitterness squeezed at his chest knowing that he was letting Shawn walk out his door.
"As I said, we're allowed to be selfish, Miles. I know I have been many times—wishing for things I could never have." Shawn said.
Miles sighing lightly. Part of him felt he should keep a distance from Shawn—that he didn't belong anywhere near him even after 12 years. But the chemistry between them convinced him otherwise. He didn't want to hold on to regrets.
"Perhaps we can do something like this again," Miles said after finding his confidence. As he said it, a deep blush stained his cheeks.
Shawn's smile bloomed. "I would like that."
Before Shawn opened the door Miles' curiosity sparked as he replayed Shawn's statement from before.
"What have you wished for?" He asked quietly.
Shawn faced Miles again and pulled him close. "For a long time, I wished a certain someone would call me."
Miles felt electricity flare through him. Then Shawn leaned in and gently kissed his cheek.
"Don't make me wait years this time," he whispered while placing a business card into Miles' pocket.
Miles' mind stuttered like a needle scratching a record. When the door shut, he woke again and ran after Shawn. It was apparent what Shawn meant—after 12 years, he still remembered him. However, his muddled mind still needed confirmation. He needed to know, without a doubt.
"Shawn!" He called out, forcing Shawn to pause by his car. "You remember?"
Shawn laughed. "Miles, you're unforgettable."