Austyn waves her hand as she chews. After swallowing, she declares, “I have a dress for you at my apartment, Mama.”
I raise an eyebrow at my daughter’s multihued catsuit with a sheer duster over it before glancing down at my more conventional jeans and corduroy blazer. Austyn clarifies. “More traditional clothes, Mama. Here in the city, I can wear whatever. It’s not like at home.”
Reaching across the table, I capture her hand. “Honey, don’t be anyone but who you are whether that’s here or at home. I love you whether that’s with multicolored hair and fun clothes or not.”
“Then you won’t mind if I get a tattoo.”
My breath hitches slightly as I recall the ink that now decorates her father’s skin. It brings up everything I swore last night I would tell her. “Austyn…”
She laughs. “Just kidding, Mama. I’m not ready to get ink of any kind yet. I believe that if you’re going to do something that permanent, it needs to mean something.”
“That’s not…” I begin, but we’re interrupted by the waiter offering us a refill on coffee. And when he departs, Austyn launches into an explanation of the sound software.
I frown thoughtfully. “It sounds like when I conduct an audiometry exam.”
“Only instead of examining one small patient, think of the entire club as your patient.”
“And the software is on your iPad?”
“Yes. It’s the only software on there. I had to show it to Louie and Marco before they’d let it into the club.” She scrunches her face.
“Dramatic much?” I chastise her.
“It was annoying, Mama. I had enough to flip out about with getting ready for the tour that I didn’t want to wipe my device.”
“I think that instead of sightseeing today, our time would be better spent at the Apple Store.” I dab my mouth with a napkin. I reach for my purse to pull out my wallet when I get a good look at the tears on Austyn’s face. “What is it?”
“I’m so lucky. Other friends of mine—like Trevor—they don’t have their families’ support as they try for their dreams. They’re here eating fifty-cent meals because their parents said if they wanted to chase this lunacy, they were cut off. And here you are, stepping up. Having my back.”
“I always will. No matter what. Under any circumstance. You’re a part of me.”
“I hope you know, Mama, I don’t take a single thing you’ve sacrificed for me for granted. Not a damn thing.” Her light blue eyes blaze at me. “And I know you tried to contact him the only way you knew how over the years. You need to know that even ifhewas in our lives, he couldn’t have been a better parent, a better person, than you are.”
Tell her now, my conscience nudges me. But I hold my tongue for the moment. Austyn will ask when she’s ready. It’s up to her to ask.
But what will happen when she does, I don’t know.
But I suspect it will be a good thing I’m heading home so I can shatter once again in my safe place.
BECKETT
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Did Beckett Miller sleep in his clothes, or were they strewn about someone else’s floor? He was without his usual flair this morning outside Rockefeller Center.
— Moore You Want
The last forty-eight hours have been some of the most heinous of my life. And I’ve endured quite a bit in thirty-eight years. I recall Angie’s words when I told her about my suspicions. “How are you still standing? How are you not shrieking this to the world yet?”
I don’t know how I didn’t crush her fingers when I choked out, “I’m trying to do the right thing. That’s why I came here first. My inclination is to go charging in like a raving lunatic and demand answers, but I can’t because of who I am. The reputation I’ve cultivated. I won’t do that until I know for sure. I could be wrong, Angie, and if I am, I could do so much damage. I need you to get Carys out of whatever she’s in today. I need your help.”
That was yesterday after Carys had dealt with a potential nude photo scandal by her other mega-star client, Erzulie. I sent the singer a voice text message.Thanks for the break. At least I’m not on the front page today.
Erzulie promptly sent me the middle finger back.
I followed up by recommending to her that she contact Hudson Investigations immediately for assistance—that they could likely figure out who did this in a matter of hours.
She promised she would, and I began to relax. That was, until I went to Redemption.