Page 96 of Perfect Composition
“Um, hello, Beckett? Are you even thinking right now?” Carys shouts. “This isn’t just about you presenting, you jackass; they want you to play. That means getting your ass back to New York and practicing before you fly to Los Angeles like a good little boy, walk the red carpet, and keep your fans happy.”
Right now I wish I could tell my fans to kiss my ass. There’s exactly one of them I give a shit about. But then Carys drops a bomb I wasn’t expecting.
“And Kensington is trending.”
I freeze. Every molecule of every cell in my body stills. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, people are pleading for Marco to get her back in the booth at Redemption. Hell, there’s a new hashtag of #KensingtonGrammys going on. Your daughter has made quite the name for herself on TikTok, and with her tour backing her up, proving she’s the real deal, there are some very interested people looking at signing her.” Carys waits a heartbeat before emphasizing, “Very.”
“Like who?” I whirl around and find Paige’s eyes glued to me.
Carys rattles off all the major players and ends it with, “And Kris casually asked me if I’d heard her while she was in New York. When I told him I was her official legal representation, he said he’d be talking with me later.”
I lift my finger with the ankh up and begin chewing on it. Thinking. Paige raises a brow. I tell her, “It’s my way of thinking things out.”
“Ah. Does the ink ever fade?”
Carys laughs in my ear. “If you screw this up, I’m dumping you as your lawyer. She’s the best thing to ever happen to you.”
At that, I drop my hand and stare directly into Paige’s eyes before replying to Carys, “I knew that twenty years ago, and I still managed to fuck it up. She’s the reason why it worked back then too.” Then I hang up the call without addressing any of her issues.
After I slide back into the lounger, Paige lets me get settled before observing, “Conversations between you and Carys appear to be contentious.”
“Only when she wants me to do something I don’t want to,” I say sulkily.
“What’s that?” She tips her head back, and I’m instantly distracted by her jewel-colored eyes.
“Hmm?”
“What does Carys want you to do?”
I hedge.
“Beckett,” she snaps.
“Do a commercial,” I admit begrudgingly. Then I tell her the name of the manufacturer, and her jaw drops.
“No freaking way. I’ve always wondered what it’s like to drive one.”
I pull her on top of me. “Good. Come to New York and you can drive mine.”
“Seriously? You own one?”
“No.” I wait half a heartbeat. “I actually have a collection of them at my house in LA.”
“A collection of them?” she repeats weakly. “Christ, Beckett. I’m really not going to get used to this. Go…donate some money or something. Okay?”
I bury my hand in her hair and whisper a kiss along her lips. “Already done.”
“What do you mean?” Her mouth puckers in suspicion.
I wriggle a bit. I hadn’t planned on telling her.
“Beckett!” she snaps.
“An anonymous donation of one million dollars was just donated to Doctors Without Borders,” I blurt out.
She blinks up at me.
