Page 7 of Perfect Composition
“Eighteen,” Simon repeats. “And in that time, you didn’t expect her to move on? Especially if you hadn’t contacted her?”
“You have no right to judge the depth of what happened between Paige and me. You have no idea what happened between us. You…” I lash out until I realize Simon isn’t doing any of those things; he was simply asking me questions. And now he’s patiently waiting for the answers. “I don’t know what I expected.”
“Did you expect her to wait for you? Did you ask her to do that?” Simon presses.
“No. I expected her to leave with me.”
“What changed all that?”
I shove myself to my feet and start pacing back and forth. Sunlight streams through the enormous windows of the restaurant. Wealth, fame, notoriety—I covered all the pain of leaving Paige behind with the things I earned. I don’t need to pay millions of dollars to a shrink to tell me that. In the many years since the last time I saw her face-to-face, I’ve made my mark on the world in ways most people can’t fathom. Yet, it means little when compared to the songs I wrote under the burning Texas sun for the girl who vowed to love me forever.
To know she gave another man a child… I whirl around and almost collide into Simon. “What happened to you, Beckett? I’m not asking as anything but your friend.”
And I deflate. I can’t shoulder this burden alone any longer, especially not if I plan on sharing the story of my life with the theatrical world he inhabits. When I’m done telling Simon everything, he sinks back into his chair. “Christ, Becks. You left because you love her.”
“And I always will. Thereforemy heart isn’t mine to give.”
Before I can say anything else, the door to our room is opened, and the waiter arrives back with the bottle of sparkling water.
A few hours later, and after I’ve endured my own indigestion from watching Simon inhale tilapia dunked in enough cilantro to torment Broadway star Evangeline Brogan for the next week, I step from the trendy New York City restaurant. Slipping my phone from my pocket, I scroll through the missed notifications, texts, and calls until I land on one from StellaNova. Opening it, I think,Don’t get pissed.
I stop walking and step out of the way of the pedestrians behind me before pressing it.
I’m immediately taken to StellaNova’s website where there’s a picture of me carrying a half-dressed Erzulie out of a hotel. You can’t see my security team in the photo, though I know they’re not far behind me. “God damn fucking…”
An elderly woman pushing a collapsible shopping cart rolls deliberately over my foot. “Watch your damn mouth.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” But even as I’m apologizing, I’m pulling Erzulie up in my list of contacts.
“’Lo,” comes her sleepy voice.
“I am going to do everything short of murder you. You’re too talented to be dead. I told you not to go to that frigging party,” I shout in frustration.
“Becks? What’s the problem?” Kylie Miles, the singer known as Erzulie, questions me.
“The problem, Ky, is the fucking paps got a picture of me carting your damn ass out of the hotel when you called me drunk off your ass. And do you want to hear the caption on this one?”
“Umm…”
I don’t give her any time to decide. “Rock God and the Indie Goddess? Is this a match made in heaven or someone’s idea of a sick hell. In this case, the daddy/daughter dating doesn’t do it for us.”
“Oh shit. Tell me it wasn’t…”
“Yes, little girl. Your favorite of the bunch. StellaNova.”
I jerk my phone away from my ear as she screams. When I jerk it back, I shout, “Do you get it now, Ky? Do you? I get you’re suffering. Believe me, I understand that. But you know the rule I taught you to live by—nothing to excess.”
She starts to cry. “I didn’t drink that much, Beckett. I swear.”
I start walking now, certain now I don’t have to go kill someone who has become as close to me as if she was actually my little sister. Still, I’m brutally unsympathetic when I inform her, “Take your emotions out on the music, Ky. Now, I have to go have Carys deal with this for both of us. Do you realize how pissed she’s going to be?”
“Oh, God. Becks, no. It can’t be that bad.”
“I suggest you haul your ass up out of bed and check your phone. You aren’t in school, and this isn’t playtime anymore, little girl. Your whole life is a damn business. And next time, figure out some way else to deal with the pain. Just like I told you after the Grammys when I had to hold you up when we got out of the limo and we dealt with these rumors then.” I press End before nodding at the lead to my security team.
“It looks as if you boys may just come in handy for once.”
“Sir?” Kane, my lead bodyguard, says.
