Another guy has that pitch on Sundays.” Riley batted him away, chuckling. “I’m
all yours for now.”
A
spasm of guilt snatched at Curtis’ gut but he pushed it away. Nothing must
spoil this, must it? “I gotta ask, why do you do it?”
“The
busking?” Riley smiled, a slow lazy look on his face.
“You’re
such a good musician.” Curtis stroked a lock of hair off Riley’s forehead. “You
could get another job like the hotel, or in a proper band. The bad song
choices? It’s just bizarre.”
Riley
was quiet for what seemed like a long moment. “It got your attention, didn’t it?”
“What?”
Curtis pulled back to examine Riley’s expression for real. “Are you taking the
piss? All that crap was just to meet me?”
Riley
shrugged. He rolled out his shoulders with a satisfying crick of joints, pushed
back his tousled hair, then propped his head up on one hand. “Well, I didn’t
know you were gonna be there when I set up by the ice cream shop. But then you