Free Daughters Of The Bride by Susan Mallery Page B

All those windows—” He pointed to the front of the house. “Every one of those is a place for noise to get in from the street and out from the studio.”
    “I produce music, not noise,” Quinn protested.
    “That’s what you call it. The folks who live in the neighborhood won’t agree. What are you going to do? Cover the windows and put up soundproofing?”
    Quinn looked at Zealand, who shrugged.
    “Then why have windows?” Wayne asked. “You’re running a business that goes late into the night. You can’t have bands coming and going at two in the morning. This is a small town, boss. They have their ways.”
    “What do you know about small towns?” Quinn asked.
    “Enough.”
    “I take it you’re not a fan.”
    “Not really. But you said you wanted to move here, so here I am.”
    “Poor Wayne.”
    “Yeah, I’m suffering.”
    Zealand chuckled.
    Quinn thought about what his assistant had said. “You’re right. A house doesn’t make sense. Why don’t the two of you go check out some industrial spaces? But they have to be relatively quiet. We can’t be next to some factory that bangs all day and night.”
    “Right. Because only the bands can do that.”
    Quinn looked at him. “Which kind of banging do you mean?”
    Wayne frowned. “Both, I guess.”
    “You’ve learned our ways well, young Obi-Wan.”
    Wayne sighed again. “You’re really moving here.”
    “I am. You’ll learn to love it. There’s a boardwalk and a pier. It’s over a hundred years old.”
    “Piers do not get better with time.”
    “Lots of families with kids. Teenagers during spring break. What could be more perfect?”
    Wayne started for the car. “Are you talking? Because all I hear is a buzzing sound.”
    “Speaking of buzzing, there’s a very famous honeybee that summers here sometimes.”
    “You say one more word about the bees and I’m going back to LA. I mean it. I’ll quit.”
    Zealand chuckled as he slid into the backseat.
    Quinn started the engine of the Bentley. “The Drunken Red-nosed Honeybee is known to be industrious and gentle.”
    Wayne rested his head in his hands. “Kill. Me. Now. That’s all I ask.”
    “Sorry, my friend. You’re the only one with that kind of training. You’re going to have to suck it up and suffer. Like you always do.”
    Wayne straightened. “Tell me about it. My life is pain.”

6
    SIENNA HANDED OVER a wrench to the man stretched out under her kitchen sink. “You could just call a plumber.”
    “I know how to replace a garbage disposal.”
    “So you say. But if it explodes, it will take me with it.”
    “That would be a loss for all of us.”
    Jimmy, her landlord, friend since grade school and ex-fiancé, turned so he could see her. “I mean that. The loss part.”
    “You’d better. I don’t want to be sliced into little pieces by an exploding garbage disposal.”
    “No one does.”
    She sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor of her rented duplex. The small, two-bedroom place suited her. It was clean, pretty, and had a yard. Jimmy was the best kind of landlord—he mowed the lawn, did repairs quickly and had the carpets cleaned at least twice a year. In return, she paid her rent on time and did her best to be a good tenant.
    Theirs was a relationship that worked.
    “How’s business?” she asked.
    “Good. I have a couple new listings. Three houses closing this month.”
    “Who would have thought?”
    Jimmy chuckled. “That I would turn out respectable? Stranger things have happened.”
    “I’m not so sure.”
    Back in high school, Jimmy had been more interested in surfing than studies. He’d drifted through school. Still, he’d been funny and kind, with a sexy attitude that had captured her schoolgirl heart. They’d dated all through senior year. When she’d left to go to UC Santa Barbara, he’d followed. While she’d attended classes, he’d surfed and worked odd jobs. Sometime during her freshman year, they’d gotten engaged. That had lasted nearly