Page 67 of Perfect Pitch

“I have to forget Mitch for a little while.” I shove my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots. Forcing my thoughts away from the man consuming my thoughts, I think about what my gramps would say if he knew I was loafing around. “We get what we deserve, Austyn.”

“Too true, Gramps. After all, taking over the New York music scene won’t happen on its own.” With that, I focus on the list of to-dos I promised I’d accomplish today.

I find myself adding more French overlay onto songs, but I'm pre-recording the music instead of singing live like I did for the Amaryllis wedding. “These are some sweet effects,” I mumble as I jack the bass. The finished product is haunting, ethereal—like Lorenna McKinnit, Enya, and David Guetta had a baby.

Stretching, I yawn as I realize how late it is. “I’ll debut it at Redemption.”

That’s when I notice my phone’s lit with a voicemail message. “Crap. I hope I didn’t miss Mitch.”

Mama, Uncle Jesse, and Uncle E have contacted me this week to check in. I pleaded with my mother to bring up decent barbecue when she visits in November, but she flatly refused. “And exactly how do you expect me to get it through security?”

Being the smart-mouthed child I am, I informed her, “Carry it on like a baby, Mama. Like wrap it in a blanket and stuff just like that old show Gramps likes to watch.”

Her response was to hang up on me not long after.

To my disgruntlement, I find it is one from Mitch. Quickly, I hit play and hold the phone to my ear.

“Hey, Beats. I know we were supposed to go out tomorrow, but something’s come up. I’m about to board a plane. I’m on the West Coast with my boss at his place out there. He’s... he’s got something going on. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to call you before I left.” He sighs. “I already miss you, Beats, and the plane hasn’t left the ground. I don’t plan on going radio silent, but when we’re with Be—the boss out here, the days are a cross between a marathon and an audition for the insane asylum.”

Mitch sounds so sincere, I just wish I could be near him to help alleviate some of his torment. “On a good note, at least his place is gorgeous. It’s a ridiculous piece of oceanfront property.” I let out a sigh at the idea of sprawling with Mitch on a beach somewhere when he continues. “And I hate sand.”

My laughter echoes around the room. “Well, there goes that fantasy.”

He rumbles, “Give me concrete, give me grass, I’m good. Best yet, give me a bed with you in it, and I’ll be perfect. Sand? Hell, that crap chafes and causes blisters in twelve point five seconds.”

I soften because he does sound frustrated. “I’m certain you’re imagining I’m living the dream out here, but all I’ll be doing is patrolling the house day and night when he’s in residence. I’m on the go twenty-four-seven. By the time we board the plane to come back, I’ll be ready to drop.”

“Poor baby,” I murmur, but my breath catches at his next words.

“Just know when my head finally hits the pillow, I’ll be dreaming of you. See you when I get back.”

Saving the message to my iCloud, I replay it repeatedly before pulling up a text. I debate what to send. Hoping Mitch finally found a horizontal surface to fall down on, I settle on,

Austyn:

Stay safe. I’ll be here when you get back.

Mitch:

I’ll text you when we’re wheels down in a few days. See you in my dreams, Beats.

I debate half a second before admitting,

Austyn

And you in mine.

I drop the phone. I’m scared I said to much because my heart tells me this man could do a lot with the ammunition I’m handing him.

Like shatter my heart.

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTY

My parents were in a long-distance relationship for many years. Some would say it worked famously.

It lasted until the day she died.

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