Part 9 (1/2)
Haris's lips curled in a bright smile, and Tyler thought how beautiful he was with his brilliant green eyes, silky dark hair and sharp cheekbones. Exotic. Not English?
”Where do you come from?” Tyler asked.
”London.”
”Originally?”
”The Middle East, Saudi Arabia, but I've spent more time in the UK than I have in the country of my birth.”
”Is your name really Evans?”
”My mother's maiden name. Easier for Brits to handle.”
”Are your parents still alive?” Tyler asked.
”My mother died when I was eighteen. As far as I know, my father's still living.”
Ah right. You have issues too.
”Brothers and sisters?” Haris asked.
Tyler shook his head and thought about the final time he'd seen his brother, Noel, and his sister, Claire. He couldn't remember what they looked like now and that hurt. ”How about you?”
”Two brothers. Still living, last I knew.”
Last he knew? Had Haris turned his back on his family or was it the other way round?
”Not my choice,” Haris said quietly, reading his mind. ”I didn't fit in with what was required of me.”
”That might be the only thing we have in common.”
Haris huffed. ”I think we have more in common than that.” He topped up Tyler's champagne. ”How did you develop an interest in music?”
”My mother. She played the piano and I begged her to teach me. She started when I was four. Called me her little Mozart. After she died, I had no piano to play on so I made one.” He swallowed as he recalled what he'd done. ”I peeled away a long strip of wallpaper below where my bed sat against the wall, thinking no one would notice. I weighed it down and drew the keys exactly the right size and when I ran my fingers over the paper, I could play in my head. I kept my paper piano rolled up and hidden but eventually the bed was moved and I got found out. That was the end of that foster home. 'Destructive tendencies' was written on my notes. I'm an expert at reading upside down. I never read anything good.”
Their food arrived and his stomach rumbled.
”That was very inventive,” Haris said. ”When did you get to play the real thing again?”
”Once I started high school. I asked the music teacher if I could go in early to practice. He must have seen some spark of talent because he arranged free lessons and gave me his old acoustic guitar. Music was the only thing I loved-apart from w.a.n.king.”
Haris laughed.
Tyler rarely got to eat steak. In fact he'd only ever eaten it when someone had bought it for him which wasn't often. This was perfect. The chargrilled outside dark and crispy, the inside so soft he hardly had to use his knife. But most importantly there was no blood. He wasn't good with blood. He had a habit of vomiting when he saw it. And fainting. Which made him feel an idiot.
”Are you musical?” he asked.
”No, but I like listening to music.”
”What sort?”
”Depends on my state of mind or the one I'd like to be in.”
Tyler appreciated that answer. ”How did listening to me play make you feel?”
Haris laughed. ”h.o.r.n.y.”
A s.h.i.+ver of l.u.s.t trickled down his spine. It grew easier and easier to imagine himself with this man.
”What are your plans when you graduate?”
”Get a job.” No point tormenting himself with thoughts about making it in the music world. He was neither lucky nor talented enough, nor was he good at a.r.s.e-licking, well not in that way.
”What sort of job?”
”I plan to find a position in a call center persuading people they've overpaid on their mortgage payment protection policy.”
Haris almost spat his champagne back into his gla.s.s as he laughed. ”Alternatively?”
”Land a contract with a music mogul.” Tyler shrugged. ”I don't know. I'm hoping inspiration strikes before I'm forced to resort to telephone selling. What do you do?”
”I'm a venture capitalist.”
”With your money or someone else's?”
”Mixture of the two.”
”That's lucky.” Tyler leaned forward. ”I have a brilliant idea for a business that involves a man, a guitar and a piano. I don't want to say anymore at the moment in case someone steals the concept but it's out of this world.”
Haris took a sip of his champagne. ”I specialize in green energy companies.”
”I could paint myself green if that helps, and the piano and guitar for that matter. Well, if I had a piano.”
He smiled. ”I need a bit more to go on than that.”
”d.a.m.n. I'll have to think about it. What made you go into venture capitalism?”
”I wanted to make a lot of money. More than a lot. I suppose to prove a point to my father.”
Oh f.u.c.k, maybe that's something I wish we didn't have in common.
”I studied economics at university,” Haris said, ”and went straight into a big investment company. When I'd learned enough, I branched out on my own.”
”I have to a.s.sume you've been successful if you can afford to throw thirty thousand at me.”
Haris put down his champagne. ”Very successful. I'm rarely wrong in my a.s.sessment of whether something will work or not, whether I've reached the decision after careful research or through a gut instinct.”
Tyler got the message. Haris seemed different tonight, more in control, far more confident. Tyler sagged. The guy already knew he'd say yes to just about anything.
He took a drink of champagne. ”Isn't it risky, putting money into something unproven? Things could go t.i.ts up very fast.”