Page 115 of Perfect Pitch

“You’re not here.”

A feeling of rightness smooths out the frayed edges of nerves of what I know Austyn is about to face. “I wish I was.”

“You can listen in.” She rattles off a website. “I’ll do a shout-out.”

“Pulling it up now.”

The club music picks up, and I can clearly hear DJ Snake and Lil John blaring as loud as it was when I entered the club the other night. She must be ready to step back into her booth because she shouts, “Got to go!”

Then she’s gone but by no means forgotten.

Less than a minute later, I’m listening to her weave the “Harlem Shake” in between Lizzo’s “About Damn Time.” Then her husky voice announces, “This one’s for my favorite MC back home.”

The crowd goes nuts, but they don’t feel half as good as I do considering most would assume she’s referencing a master of ceremonies, but I know better. She means me.

All the way back to the condo, I listen to her set the club on fire. Still keeping my earbud in, I wander into the gym and hit the treadmill knowing the music she’s throwing down will get me through my workout instead of moping around missing her. Worse yet, worrying about what’s going to happen tonight after the show.

Around one, she wraps her set and turns everything over to the house DJ. I get a text from her.

Austyn:

Heading back to the hotel. Going straight to Mama.

I ping her back.

Mitch:

Let me know how it goes.

For the next three hours, I wait for some kind of word about how her conversation went. I send her text after text.

Mitch:

Are you okay?

Mitch:

What happened?

Mitch:

Christ, I hate I can’t be there for you.

Mitch:

Please, talk to me, Beats.

I pace the floor in the living area until around five eastern, I call my brother and ask him to find Austyn with some trumped up excuse that’s so flimsy you can see through it. Within thirty minutes, I receive a ping on my cell. I dive for it and feel my heart fall to my feet.

Austyn:

There was something you forgot to tell me about your employer. If you had suspicions about who I am, you should have shared them with ME, not let me walk into that conversation with my mother blind.

“Crap.” With that, I lay my head back on the couch and curse the hazards of falling in love with a woman when you work for a job where you can’t tell her a damn thing about it.

I decide to text.

Mitch:

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