“It could be worse,” she said with a laugh. “You could have been a drummer.”
He chuckled. “I never had that great a sense of rhythm.”
“I don’t know about that.”
He looked at her. “Don’t tempt me. You’re still working.”
Tension crackled between them. She wondered how tacky it would be if she was seen kissing a guest. Or they could slip into his bungalow and—
Her phone chirped. She hung her head.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s my mother. I gave her a special tone so I would know it’s her texting me, what with the wedding and all, but now I’m thinking that wasn’t a good idea. Maybe it’s better if I don’t brace myself.”
“Are you arguing?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. It’s more the constant flood of ideas.” She glanced at the screen. “‘Confetti drop with pom-poms,’” she read.
He frowned. “Like cheerleader pom-poms? Wouldn’t someone get hurt?”
She laughed and held out her phone so he could see the picture. “No. The little fuzzy ones. Instead of dropping confetti, we would drop little pom-poms. I can’t decide if they would be easier or harder to clean. Probably easier. We could use the leaf vacuum to suck them all up.”
She texted a quick Great idea! then put her phone back in her pocket. “I had no clue she was so creative. I think she’s spending a little too much time on Pinterest. Did I tell you the colors of the wedding are basically shades of pink, with a little vanilla thrown in for contrast? So it’s pink everything. Even pink champagne.”
Quinn strummed a chord. “You mean rosé champagne.”
“Oh, please. Don’t start with me.”
“There’s a difference.”
“Sure there is,” she said sarcastically. “Enlighten me.”
He smiled and began to strum a tune she recognized as one of Tadeo’s hits.
“Cheap pink sparkling wine gets its color from food coloring. Rosé champagne, true champagne, gets its color from the skin of the grapes. Pinot noir grapes, to be exact.”
Holy crap, she thought. How did he know that? Probably from dating some supermodel slash winemaker. “I am so out of my league with you.”
He chuckled. “Not really, but I do have a talent for picking up odd facts. Never bet against me at trivia.”
“I’ll make a note. And tell my mother we need rosé champagne for sure.”
“That will make her happy.”
He continued to play the song.
“Did you write that?” she asked.
“Most of it. Tadeo helped.” He grinned. “He would say it was the other way around.”
“You have an interesting group of guys you hang out with,” she said. “Zealand, Wayne, Tadeo.” Zealand and Tadeo were involved in the music business, so they made sense, but Wayne was kind of an odd choice. The former marine and the playboy music executive. “How did you and Wayne start working together?”
Quinn stopped playing. His smile faded. “It’s a long story.”
“Oh. You don’t have to tell me. I was just wondering, but it’s no big deal.”
He put down the guitar, and the quiet of the night crept in to surround them.
“It’s all public. You can find out online.” He leaned back in his chair. “Wayne’s son, Casey, was also a marine. He was injured in a bomb blast. Badly injured. Stuck in a wheelchair and living with a brain injury. The doctors did the best they could, but there wasn’t much hope. Wayne took care of him, but it’s a hard job and he was doing it all alone. The only thing Casey still responded to was music. Specifically Tadeo’s music.”
Courtney thought about what she knew about the artist. He’d had multiple hits and was known for very loud, slightly crazy concerts.
“Wayne got concert tickets, but when he tried to get the stadium to make special accommodations for Casey, no one would help. He showed up during setup and made a fuss.”
“What does that mean?”
“He punched one of the roadies.” Quinn lifted a shoulder. “I happened to be there. He was brought to me, and the tour manager wanted to call the police. I asked what was going on and it all came out. Wayne was emotionally and physically at the end of his rope. He just wanted to get his son into the concert before he died. That was it. An easy enough request to fulfill.”
“You made it happen,” she said.
“Sure. Casey came to all three concerts. He met Tadeo. We made some calls and got Wayne help with his son and then we moved on to the next venue.” He stared past her, as if seeing things she couldn’t. “Two months later Casey died. Six months or so after that Wayne showed up in my office. He looked like hell. He said he wanted to thank me for what I’d done. We talked for a while and then I hired him to be my assistant. That was about seven years ago.”