"Everyone thinks I was his girlfriend," Chloe said, leading Mia inside. "I wasn't. I was his neighbor."
She explained: two years ago, she’d knocked on Arthur’s door to ask about a stray cat. He’d invited her in. She’d noticed a photo of Nina Simone on his wall. He’d played her a tape of a 1966 session no one had ever heard. And then, every Tuesday night for two years, Chloe had come over. MIA EVANS PROSTITUTE WITH OLD MAN
Mia raised an eyebrow. "And Chloe is…?" "Everyone thinks I was his girlfriend," Chloe said,
Her editor, Kyle, slid a new assignment across the desk. "Mia, meet Arthur Pendelton. Eighty-three. Former studio musician. Lived alone in Silver Lake. Died last Tuesday. The twist? He left everything—his house, his vintage guitars, his collection of 10,000 vinyl records—to a twenty-three-year-old woman named Chloe." He’d invited her in