Page 27 of Perfect Composition
And my heart fought for a way to beat.
How could my body forget what being close to Paige Kensington was like? From the first time I saw her standing on the foundation of her ancestors, peering down at me like a queen, I was enraptured. I’d already lived a thousand lives in hell, and she was the balm to all of my wounds. But I left her behind despite promising her I’d take her with me. And swearing that oath by taking a liberty I never should have.
Louie and I were approaching the entrance of the sound booth on our way back to the VIP section as Marco was escorting the woman he’d been dancing with toward it. And like a perfect storm, the door was flung open. A young woman looked quickly in both directions before a smile spread across her face.
Then she dashed off into the woman’s arms.
Arms I’m certain I’ve been held in beneath the burning Texas sun after I made slow, sweet love to her.
Arms that tightened around me as I promised to love her forever.
A vow that I’ve never broken as much as it may appear otherwise.
Paige Kensington whatever-her-name-is hasheld the entirety of my heart since the moment she listened to the school outcast about his home life and offered some real suggestions about how to make it better.
The younger of two women spun the older around in a circle, and I got a good look at the young woman’s face. My mind hurled me back to the sunflower fields surrounding Paige’s family’s old homestead, despite the rainbow hue of her hair. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind she’s Paige’s daughter.
But what almost toppled me over was when the spotlight hit her face and I saw her eyes. A trick of the light in the club or, God help me, are the eyes in that face the same light blue I see in the mirror every damn day?
Pacing back and forth at my condo, I anxiously wait for word about Angie’s and Ward’s—Carys’s younger brother and partner—night at Redemption.
Yesterday, they agreed—albeit Ward reluctantly—to head to the nightclub to talk with the young DJ. During a long planning session that had me sharing about my past, and not just the parts that included Paige, we all agreed my making an approach wasn’t the wisest decision. Hell, I have to have two guards at any time following my movements because of who I am. I’ve always resented the necessity of my security team, but no more so than right now.
I can’t take it anymore. I snatch my phone and text Angie.What happened last night?
There’s an interminable wait before I get a response from Carys, not Angie.We’re on our way in. She’s taking notes. Take a deep breath and meet us at the office in an hour.
An hour. I can handle that. But first:Is Angie okay?Angela Fahey has suffered due to her own past from the vicious hands of the press. I thought I understood her backbone and the word “humility” until yesterday when she volunteered to do this for me.
Carys’s response ofShe will bedoesn’t do much to reassure me. “Crap,” I say aloud. I immediately head out the door after calling for security.
My nerves have me bouncing my leg up and down in the limo. I haven’t been this anxious since the first time I took the stage, opening forMastodon. The stop and go of the morning traffic in Midtown churns my morning espresso so hard, I’m terrified it’s going to come back up as a frappe.
Then, as my driver pulls to the curb, I see them, the paparazzi. As soon as they see my vehicle, they swarm to it like locusts.
“Fucking hell, not today.” I quickly slide on my sunglasses to protect my eyes from the flashes that still manage to pop through the blackened window like flashes of lightning.
“Mr. Miller, please don’t exit the vehicle until we secure the space,” Kane calls out.
“Right. I know the drill.” I should after years of this shit.
Kane nods before wedging himself out of the vehicle. I hear shouts, screams, cheering. Taking a few deep breaths, I prepare myself for the moment that door’s flung open. Because then I no longer get to be just me. I’m a commodity. I gave up everything to be this, to have this.
And this is a large part of the price.
But was I the only one who paid?The thought works insidiously into my mind. Thoughts of the two women at the club flash into my mind. And I can’t generate the trademark smile I normally greet the paps with. Instead, I duck my head and allow Kane to get me from the limo to the door. “Thanks, man.”
“Just doin’ the job, sir,” my shadow addresses me.
“For all that’s holy, Kane. Didn’t I say it clear enough the first twenty times? It’s Becks. If you can’t manage that, Beckett. I mean, you know everything about my life.”
“No offense…Beckett. But there’s some things I don’twantto know about your life.” He leans in. “I mean, really? Of all the things you could be addicted to…decades music?”
My lips twitch. This was what I needed to face the meeting ahead of me. “Some of the best lyricists in the world rocked it out in the ’80s and ’90s, man.”
His head shakes back and forth tragically like I’ve ruined his image of rock stars. I clap a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll probably be a few hours. And no, I won’t leave the building.”
Just then, a Muzak version of one of my favorite singers comes over the lobby sound system. A slow grin crosses my face as a pained expression transforms Kane’s. “And with that, I’m out.”
