Page 56 of Beautiful Enemy

“I’m not concerned. It’s not only the crowd that lines up for this place.”

“I’ve wanted to play here forever,” I admit, soaking it all in. “To hear my songs, to feel them through the ground, like they’re moving the earth.” I cut him a teasing look. “If you buy it, you’ll let me play, right?”

“La Mer is the biggest stage in the world.” His brows lift, and I feel my smile fade.

Hurt slices at me, cutting deeper than I thought this man could cut me.

“And you don’t think I’m good enough.”

He was by my side as I breathed new life into his club, and despite his sparse praise, it felt as if he was cheering me on. That we were in this journey together.

Harrison shakes his head as if I’m being unreasonable. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, you did.” I twist away from his grip and slip into the throng of people.

Watching the booth, envy settles into my gut like a throbbing mass. The man spinning tonight is Maxx, a DJ I met at Coachella. He has a reputation for being a dick to new talent, especially women.

The thing is he’s not alone. Of Billboard’s top one hundred DJs in the world, only a handful are women. None of the top ten.

I want to make that list, not only because that list determines who gets booked and who makes bank.

Women have always been involved in music, but when it comes to recognition and compensation, it’s still a man’s world.

I try to forget the hurt and dance with Ash and his friends while Harrison’s off doing whatever he has planned.

A guy from Ash’s crew brushes up behind me. He’s fit and attractive, but when he moves closer, reaching out to draw me against him, I pull back. “I can’t.”

He shrugs and returns to dancing.

I’m in the middle of the biggest club in the world, crushed because a rich, entitled man I have no reason to care for doesn’t believe in me.

It’s not possible to hate someone and like them at the same time.

Is it?

I suppose I’ve had moments of hating myself over the years, for things I’ve done. For things others have done to me, and how I responded to them.

But we all fall down sometimes.

What kept me above the water when it felt like I was being dragged under was looking for the good things in myself. The things worth believing in, no matter how small or faint or seemingly irrelevant.

Even when it was hard.

Especially when it was hard.

The next time the song transitions, everything changes.

The first chords are familiar.

More than familiar. I feel them in my body before I hear them.

I spin and latch onto Ash, who’s dancing with a few other guys, by the front of his shirt.

“Was this you?” I demand, but Ash shakes his head.

I stumble back, searching for Harrison. Pushing through the crowd, I scan the sea of faces and bodies. It’s an impossible throng, but I wade through anyway, tripping over my shoes until strong arms grab me at the edge of the dance floor.

I look up to find Harrison King looming over me, cool and breathtakingly beautiful.

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