Initially, Shawn refused to attend the meeting at The Apple, but his VP, Scott, was too busy, and Nick was relentless. He had planned just to toss funding to Nick's charity, but Nick explained that a show of his support would aid him further.
The meeting was supposed to be at The Lunar, but Nick was renovating, so he suggested The Apple. Nick also showed excitement because he recently ran into one of the owners and felt confident about future partnerships.
Shawn was familiar with The Apple because he had snuck in several times to see Requiem perform, but this was the first time he came for business reasons. He knew they ran a tight ship, so he wasn't perturbed by the gaggle of girls causing a commotion at the entrance.
As he was entering, he saw someone dressed sleekly in black approach the group. It seemed like it was under control, so he ignored it. The sooner they started the meeting, the sooner it would be over.
However, the man's voice stopped him dead in his tracks. It was a deep and sonorous timbre that stole his breath. That voice took up residence in his mind.
He had never dared to hope to hear him again.
Miles.
The Miles who enthralled him years ago. The man who seemed so beautifully haunted, sitting alone at a bar. A man who kissed him as if his next breath depended on it. The man who left him, making him wait for a call that would never come.
He forced himself to remain still while watching Miles handle the confrontation outside. The sorrow once etched into the young man had healed and was replaced with unfailable confidence. He was obviously not the same man from 12 years ago.
Unfortunately, Shawn was ushered inside before he could approach Miles, but the night was still young.
To Shawn's dismay, the meeting was nearly torture. Miles was so close, but Shawn committed to supporting Nick during this meeting. He forced himself to ignore Miles and turned on the charm to help push Nick's proposal.
An hour in, Nick had received approval from everyone present. Shawn finally relaxed and turned to watch Miles glide across the floor below. He could now fully appreciate the view, trying to find the differences between the Miles from his memory to now. His hair was shorter than their first encounter, and he had a layer of stubble decorating his jaw, but it suited him. He was older, and the years had been more than kind to him.
He was amused when he saw Miles' undisguised annoyance with the DJ onstage. His entire body language changed, and he radiated frustration.
But then he disappeared, leaving Shawn to taste bitter disappointment.
When Miles left, another surprise shook Shawn. Requiem. He was one of the most renowned DJs but never made himself known to the public. He had plenty of awards and platinum albums to line his walls but didn't venture to take it further.
Shawn never understood why Requiem was a recluse, but he wanted Requiem under his wing to grow into his full potential. He was disappointed when Requiem signed with Dirge Records, an unknown label at the time, especially when they allowed him to continue lurking in the shadows. What was equally frustrating was that the CEO of Dirge was similarly aloof.
But then Dirge signed on another five DJs, and they grew exponentially. They had raw talent, but under Dirge, they were honed and perfected into a force to be reckoned with. After Shawn watched Dirge's exponential growth, he concluded that it wasn't Dirge holding Requiem back. Instead, it was Requiem who chose to remain anonymous.
He was an enigma.
Over the years, the world shifted around the entertainment scene. If you wanted an actor or a singer, you could connect with Aura Entertainment. But if you wanted a hard-hitting DJ, you looked to Dirge.
He wanted to leave for the night, but his curiosity made him follow the crowd of other CEOs to a dark hallway behind the stage. He stayed hidden in the back of the group, embarrassed by how others acted. One of The Apple's owners tried pushing them back, but Brian had to throw his weight and act like a dick. Shawn was going to step in to help but faltered.
Miles emerged.
Beautifully exhausted, it seemed, with a fresh cut on his lip and annoyance in his eyes. God, he was confident—back straight, golden eyes, and a smirk hanging on his lips as if there was a joke only he knew. Now that he was so close, Shawn could see that he was lean, nearly lithe, but strength was hidden under his black button-down shirt.
What was more intriguing was the complex tattoos creeping from his open neckline. His thoughts turned inappropriate, trying to determine what was under the collar, and he had to shake himself back into reality.
Shawn's initial attraction toward Miles did not wane over the years. It only grew stronger the moment he saw him again.
Shawn didn't say anything but watched in a daze. It was only when Nick hugged Miles that he woke back up.
Did Nick know him? How did Nick know the Miles he had been searching for? Nick was his best friend but never mentioned being acquainted with any Miles.
He half heard the conversation between Miles and Nick but caught how they talked about Aura's DJ, Discord. Pieces of a puzzle snapped together, and a name Scott mentioned flashed into his mind.
Miles Mendez. Owner of Dirge Records. The man who had frustrated the hell out of his Scott because he had declined all of his offers to meet. He was the man who hoarded the best DJs in New York.
Perhaps it was pettiness, but Shawn never personally sent a proposal to Dirge. He left the negotiations in the hands of Scott. Now he realized that he probably would have reconnected with Miles sooner if he had just picked up the phone himself.
He nearly cursed out loud thinking about the many missed opportunities with Miles over the last 12 years. There were so many 'what-ifs' that it almost blinded him. He was already in his mid-forties, with a line of relationships behind him. However, the one person who kept him up at night was the one who refused to go home with him.
Did Miles drink too much that night? Did he remember Shawn? If he did remember, was that the reason why he avoided Aura? Did he think Shawn forgot?
Shawn didn't know how he maintained a conversation with Miles when his mind was jumbled with questions and self admonishments.
He didn't know what happened during these long years, but forgetting Miles was absurd. Something about him remained with Shawn. It wasn't something as outlandish as love at first sight, but there was an undisputable connection.
But now, there was something more that made Shawn want to laugh. He's a shrewd businessman who never entered into a deal he was bound to lose. However, when it came to Miles, he lost every single time. Miles always refused him—personally and professionally.
When Nick wrapped an arm around Miles' shoulder, jealousy seared him. It didn't matter whether Nick was his best friend, married, or straight. The gesture was practically mocking Shawn. He was only satisfied when Miles freed himself, and Shawn reached out to grab his wrist. The world was righted when they were touching.
Miles maintained a cordial conversation, and Shawn searched for some recognition. Shawn wanted to bite the bullet and bring it up, but Miles's phone rang. Shawn hoped it was nothing, but Miles addressed the person on the other line as 'kiddo'.
Did Miles have children? Was he with someone? Did another steal him away, leaving Shawn without a breath of a chance?
A flood of emotions ripped through Shawn, but he didn't panic. He now knew a way to reach out to Miles. Things were not as hopeless as before.
••••••••••
Miles woke up in blissful disbelief. He met Shawn. He could meet Shawn again if he played his cards right. He laughed to himself and covered his eyes with his hands. He was half convinced that it was a dream, but he could still feel the weight of Shawn's grip on his wrist.
Miles sat up, and his previous giddiness disappeared as he realized his body was rebelling. He was in considerable pain. His legs were sore because he moved around without any support on his feet. His hips were stiff, and his back made him feel like he had aged 60 years. His face also felt like a sledgehammer had kissed him.
"I fucking hate that DJ," he groaned as he crawled out of bed.
He checked his phone and saw some missed calls from Eve. He messaged her quickly.
Miles: Everything hurts. Going to die in a hot shower.
Eve was quick to reply.
Eve: Don't be such a little bitch. Suck it up.
Eve: But seriously, thank you for your help.
Eve: I can't believe that asshole hit you.
Miles chuckled. "You and me both," he said out loud. He opened the drawer on his nightstand, grabbed the painkillers, and swallowed them down. He rubbed his temples and sighed. It was an insane night, and he had a lot of work to catch up on.
Miles: It happens sometimes. Don't worry about it.
Miles: But I'm always happy to help. You know I enjoy a good set.
He got up and limped over to his shower and stayed under the hot water for a while, hoping that the painkillers and heat would help with the pain. He remained in the shower until the water had turned cold. He stepped into a steamed-filled bathroom and wrapped the towel around his waist.
Miles wiped down the mirror and inspected his lip. It still had a cut, but the swelling was almost gone, and the bruise was light. He had much worse when he was a kid fighting in the streets. He hated fighting, even when protecting his pocket money or defending himself was necessary. A DJ's profits came from his hands' abilities, so he couldn't risk damaging them.
He rubbed a little medicine on his cut and cleaned up a little before he pulled on some ripped jeans and a sweatshirt. He walked upstairs, enduring his body aches, and saw Danny at the kitchen table pouring over books.
"Hey, Danny," Miles said as he reached the top of the stairs.
"Hey! I heard you had a show—what the hell happened to your face?"
Miles touched his lips and chuckled. "Interesting night at the club."
He poured a cup of coffee and grabbed a muffin from the counter before sinking into a table chair.
"Some DJs are divas, even when they don't have the talent." Miles chuckled a little. "And they get hurt when you throw them off the stage."
Danny's eyes were wide. "At The Apple?"
Miles nodded his head. "But that reminds me, I need to touch base with a couple of our guys to see if they can fill in a couple of nights a week at The Apple. Note down to call Phase and Trickshot on Monday to see if they are willing to help."
Danny quickly noted it down on his phone and grinned.
Miles' phone rang, and he raised an eyebrow, surprised when he saw his grandmother as the caller. He had been extremely reluctant to become close to his paternal grandparents, Delma and Glenn, believing they were an older version of Larry, but they had proved to be anything but.
"Morning, Nan." He answered while stifling a yawn.
"Darling, are you ill?" Her voice revealed her concern.
"No, just a late night at work. How are you and Pops?" He changed the subject by bringing up his grandfather.
"Oh, you know us. Retired and bored." She chuckled to herself. "But I have a bridge date with my friends today and wanted to see if you would be a dear and escort me."
"How can I say no to you?" He grinned.
He set a time to meet her and then dressed up a little. She never worried about his tattoos or torn clothes, but he had wanted to impress her. Now the desire had become a habit.
He said goodbye to Danny and left in his car, heading to the Upper East Side. He parked at her building and waved to the doorman. It was routine for him to greet the workers he had come across.
He rode up the elevator to the penthouse while humming along to the song. His fingers flicked like he was working the crossfader on his mixer. A new mix was slowly being composed in his mind.
Add in a beat, echo out the original sample, add a scratch to shake it up, and mix in something hard.
He smiled as he heard the song come together in his mind. A bell chimed to let him know that the doors were opening. He chuckled when he saw Delma waiting for him with her purse and cane in hand.
"Hurry, hurry!" She said and shooed him back into the elevator.
She hurriedly pressed the button to close the door when Miles heard someone coming down the hall.
"Mother!" The woman called out, making Miles step back into a corner, hoping he wasn't seen. Madeline Anderson, Larry's wife, was trying to join Delma. It was a constant battle because Delma couldn't stand her.
Delma checked her hair in the mirrored walls of the elevator. She ignored Miles' exasperated look, but her eye caught the cut on his lip from the mirror. She scratched his chin and examined it.
"Who did this?"
Miles chuckled. "A disgruntled employee. It's been handled."
She clicked her tongue and was able to lecture him, but her phone started ringing. She cursed under her breath when she saw Madeline calling her. She turned off the ringer and threw her phone in her purse.
Miles gave her an amused look.
She huffed. "Don't give me that look, darling. You know how she is on good days."
"I've made great strides to avoid her on any day," Miles said with a shrug. "But the desire to avoid each other is mutual."
She sighed and pulled Miles in a hug. "You're lucky then. I wish she would give me the same courtesy."
He chuckled and ran his hand over his short hair. "She can't be that terrible, right?"
Delma gave him a scrutinizing look and then clicked her tongue. "She makes me pity the devil."
"What?"
"When that stuck-up bitch dies, she'll go straight to hell. She will promptly chase the poor devil out of his home."
Miles laughed and grabbed her arm to walk her out of the elevator. "Jesus Christ, Nan."
"She'll make Jesus run scared too." Delma quipped.
Miles shook his head with a chuckle. Delma always had a way of surprising him. She was not the typical rich snob he had anticipated when he first met her. She was real with a genuine (but sarcastic) soul. Sometimes he lamented that she never met his mother because they would love each other.
He drove her to a villa and parked with the other vehicles. He went around and opened the door for her and took her arm.
An attendant approached them, and he smiled. "Ms. Anderson. I can guide you inside, and your driver can remain here."
She huffed. "My grandson will be joining me."
The attendant could hardly disguise his shock while his eyes flicked between them. "I... I apologize. I will show you the way."
"Nan, I can just pick you up later." Miles tried to reason with her. He had reservations about spending an afternoon with high-society women. However, the grip on his arm told him he had no choice.
They walked into the large villa filled with priceless art and decoration. Miles' jaw clenched, and he kept a hand in his pocket. He hated being in a place like this people many would assume he would steal something, and based on the watchful gaze of the workers' eyes, this stereotype was still prevalent.
Sometimes, it didn't matter what a person endured and how they prevailed. People were still assholes and chose to judge hastily.
For Delma's sake, he forced a smile and entered the den.
••••••A/N••••••
I couldn't resist adding a small POV for Shawn. I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for sticking with me! ❤️