Page 29 of Perfect Satisfaction

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Have you ever watched something so real you felt like you were transported in time? That was me tonight atThe Golden Lady. Evangeline Brogan made me feel like I was Adele Bloch-Bauer. I still have chills and a wad of used tissues in my bag.

It’s a must-see.

—Moore You Want

January

“You were brilliant,” I declare to Beckett Miller, who invited us all backstage after the show. Lounging in his dressing room with his wife and daughter, you’d never guess the tattooed rock god was anything but a devoted family man.

But, oh boy. The stories I’ve been caught up on tonight—especially by Beckett’s wife, Paige.

I smother a giggle as my gaze takes in everyone partaking in my birthday celebration. Angie and Ward contacted Brendan to make this happen for me. I’ve been dying to see the highly acclaimed show again based on the series of paintings completed by the renowned artist Gustav Klimt. I was flabbergasted when Beckett admitted, “I was inspired to write the score because of Paigey. She had a framed poster of one ofThe Golden Ladyportraits. It’s remarkable, but the real Adele Bloch-Bauer bore a striking resemblance to her mother.”

“You’re kidding!” I exclaim.

The audiologist darts loving eyes at her husband. “Not at all. It was an incredible collaboration.”

My eyes drift in the direction of the score’s co-author, and I nod emphatically before agreeing, “Absolutely.”

Secrets of all kinds have been shared in Beckett Miller’s dressing room. Seconds before they were revealed, I half-jokingly asked aloud, “Do we need Carys to draft us a mutual NDA before hangin’ together tonight, Becks?”

Beckett barked out a laugh before pulling me into his arms for a hug. “It’s ridiculous it’s taken so long for us to meet, Sula.” Then he tripped over his own feet when Brendan casually mentioned who we are to one another.

And who JB is to us.

“You really weren’t joking about that NDA, were you kid?” he marveled. Then he threw an empty cup at Brendan. “Dude, I’ve trusted you with every secret I have. My parents were abusive pieces of shit. We could have commiserated.”

Brendan pointed at me and JB before declaring, “We promised each other when they were just kids—we all agree on who we let in, or we don’t say a word.”

That was an hour ago. Now, Beckett and I have caught up on stories about Angie, Brendan, Dani—who is at home with their kids—and we’re finally talking about the show.

“May I say, as far as birthdays go, this one has been exceptional,” I announce. Everyone in the room cheers. Brendan tightens his arm around my shoulder as I sip champagne. Angie is across the room being charmed by JB when suddenly the door flies open, and a flash goes off. Before I can react, Beckett leaps from the couch.

He, Brendan, and Beckett’s bodyguard, Kane, hit the door at the same moment. I’m right on their heels.

Nobody gets to mess with my family.

Brendan is swearing ripely when I clear the door. Smith, who was taking a rotation at the door while the family was present, is crumpled on the floor.

“What happened?” Beckett shouts.

Brendan’s running his hands up and down over Smith. His eyes dart to me when he slides his fingers through the older man’s hair. He growls, “Call for an ambulance.”

Chaos erupts backstage.

People begin pouring out of dressing rooms. The door across from Beckett’s flies open revealing Evangeline Brogan, the brightest star of Broadway, who demands, “What’s going on out here?”

Before I can answer her, Kane is back, panting. He shakes his head at Brendan.

Fury pours from both men.

Angie crouches beside me and says, “Come with me. Let’s give them some space.”

I want to shake her off so I can be there for Brendan, but I know she’s right. I cross the room and I’m absorbed into JB’s embrace. Softly, so no one else can hear, I whisper, “The minute the photo’s posted, we’ll know who hurt Smith.”

He whispers in reply, “B’s going to be out for revenge.”