Page 23 of Perfect Composition

I set aside my glass as the tracks laid over one another blend seamlessly together. “She’s damn good,” I remark.

“Just wait.”

A tingle of awareness travels through my spine as song after song plays. I close my eyes and just listen, as always the music grabbing me and hurling me into a metaphysical plane few have the ability to join me on. Unlike the house DJ, this artist somehow manages to almost haunt me, weaving her own music into the original. And yet, unlike others of her kind in a club like this, she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t use a lot of talk to pump up the crowd. It’s all about the music.

I’m about to ask Louie for more information about her for Carys when Toto begins to blast. He shushes me. “I was hoping she’d play this again. Dude, you’re in for something. Just listen.”

So, I do.

And as the song continues to play, I get the eerie feeling I’m in a haunted hell. Because my heart knows the voice singing in perfect French on the track. She’s my soul’s one true regret—the only thing I left behind I wish I could have scooped up and carried off into the night they marked me with their words.

Paige.

But her family was Kensington, Texas. Somehow, I knew if I’d made off with the crown princess, they’d have hunted me down and dragged me back. I couldn’t have brought her with me. I just couldn’t.

Rubbing my arms, I manage to get out, “What is this DJ’s name?” I know it’s not possible, but I still pray my heart isn’t thumping against my rib cage hard enough to alert him.

“Oh, sorry, man. I thought I told you.” Louie bends down.

That’s when I spy her. At least, I think I do. The damn lights flash on the stairs for a millisecond before they dash away. I snarl in frustration, wanting them to hold in place. She’s flying down the stairs toward the dance floor. Marco twirls away from his current partner and approaches her as the song changes to Joan Jett. The two of them glide across the dance floor as if they’ve danced together before.How can this be possible?I shake my head hard to knock some sense into it. There’s no way she’s here. She’s probably back in Texas, married with three kids by now instead of the one daughter I know about. I grab my drink and take another long swig to regain my equilibrium.

Louie says something, but I don’t hear him as I swallow furiously. “Sorry, man. Didn’t catch that.” I rattle my glass, indicating I’m dry.

“On it. But keep listening to Kensington. I’ll try to see if I can arrange an introduction before the night’s over.” He snags my glass and walks away.

And it’s a good thing too because my knees give out slightly.The DJ’s name is Kensington?Wildly, I search the dance floor for the woman who I’m now certain is Paige. But she’s gone. Just like she is in my dreams when I wake up.

My head snaps toward the DJ booth. Yeah, I’ll take that introduction. Because unless I’m mistaken, that’s her daughter in that booth.

An arc of pain I wasn’t expecting strikes me as Louie approaches with my drink. The music changes. I frown as it isn’t the same caliber of what was just on.

He laughs. “Sorry to offend your auditory senses, Becks, but even DJs get a potty break.”

I flush with embarrassment. “Right.”

“Kensington will be back on in fifteen.”

I throw out, “Maybe I’ll do a lap around the club in the meanwhile.”

Louie groans. “Must you? You know you’ll just be mobbed, and I’ll have to be the one to shove people away. I’ve been having such a good night.”

“Suck it up,” I voice unfeelingly. I need to do something with this energy, or I’m going to go mad and do something stupid that will land me on the front page of every tabloid. Like approach the new wunderkind DJ and ask,How’s your mother? And your father? Are they happy? Does your mother ever mention me?

Because that would be a really brilliant move, Beckett, I think to myself derisively.

Louie strides past me and warns Kane what we plan on doing. Kane moves into the VIP area so he can keep an eye on the place while we walk around. “All right, rock star. Let’s do your lap.”

I clap a hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze. “Thanks, my friend.”

“You’d better be glad I like you, Becks,” he grumbles.

Within minutes of stepping out of the VIP area, we’re immediately swarmed by my fans. Even though I normally appreciate the seclusion of my own area, right now I need to be distracted. From myself.

Or I just might go mad until I get that introduction.

PAIGE

CHAPTER TEN