Page 57 of Perfect Pitch

My gaze meets the waist of a muscular stomach. I let it travel up, still up, and further until I meet the eyes of a giant whose jaw is unhinged. I catch a glimpse of a gold tooth before he locks his lips together. I jab my hand in his direction. “Yes. Kensington. You’re Mr. Scott?”

That’s when he throws back his head and his whole body shakes with laughter. It takes a few moments for him to regain control. I leave my hand in the exact same position the whole time. He flicks a glance down at it and then gives me a once-over. “Save that shit for Marco. He’s the formal one.”

I immediately relax. “Cool. I mean, that’s cool to know about him, not that he’s formal. I mean, is he nice? God, I can’t believe I asked you that.”

A smile creases his handsome features, causing his gold tooth to wink at me again. “Talk to me. How old are you?”

“Nineteen, almost twenty.”

He wags a finger at me. “No drinking in the booth.”

“That’s fine. The only place I ever try to get a free beer is Rodeo Ralph’s.”

“Rodeo what’s?”

“It’s a bar in my hometown.”

“Ahh, I see. Haven’t tried to sneak into any clubs since you’ve been here?”

“Haven’t had much time. Plus, no inclination to have my mother fly out from Texas to bail me out,” I admit.

He throws his head back and laughs. “Let me tell you a little about Redemption.” He does, explaining how the club is almost fantastical in some ways, playing off the concept people’s fantasies are courted before then they need to be forgiven.

Baldly, I state, “It sounds like a cross between a high-end sex club and a dance club.”

“We ride the edge.”

“No pun intended, of course.”

He snickers. “Let’s go inside. First, I’m going to need you to lock up your purse.”

My brows skyrocket. “My purse?” I spin around on my sky-high heels. “It’s like the middle of an open parking lot, Louie.”

“Trust me, we have state of the art security.” He opens a drawer and a safe that requires a palm print is exposed. After activating it, he holds out his hand for my purse. When I relinquish it, he nods. “Now, the iPad.”

Now, I’m frowning. “How am I supposed to spin up anything?” I have several apps loaded on that little device that lets me know how the sound is registering around a large, cavernous space like a club.

“We’ll let you know the rules once the contracts are signed, Austyn. Now, fork it over so you can really experience Redemption.”

After much grumbling, I do. The safe is closed and hidden. Then Louie extends an arm. “You ready to go inside and meet the boss?”

“Why do I get the feeling that no one—not even Mr. Houde—bosses you around much?”

A deliciously accented voice I immediately place as Parisian—thank you, Mama for hiring me a French tutor from Paris—startles me. “Because you’re observant, Kensington. I appreciate that in the people who work for me.”

“Kensington, Marco Houde. Marco, Kensington.” Louie performs the introduction.

His hard obsidian eyes take me in from head to toe. When they meet mine, I feel like somehow, I’ve been found lacking. Well damn him. Damn Louie too. One day, the men of Redemption will beg me to play here, I think rashly.

He gestures, without a word, for me to proceed him.

* * *

After I exit Redemption, my phone pings with a text. To my delight, it’s Mitch.

Mitch:

Just landed. Do you have plans for tonight?

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