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“Shoot.”
“How did you get into the music business? You mentioned your father is a businessman. Is your mom a singer or musician?”
“No. Mom is Dr. Blythe Christensen. She’s one of the best neurosurgeons in North America. She’s also a caring and loving mother.”
“I see.”
“My older brother Holt, my cousin Jace, and me were obsessed with the idea of becoming the next big musicians. We didn’t just want to be good. We wanted to dominate. We’d spend hours practicing. Our parents didn’t object because our focus kept us out of trouble. After sending God knows how many demos to record companies and agents, and a crushing number of rejections, we got our lucky break when we least expected it. Not long after that, drummer extraordinaire Rod Wolfe joined our band when our former drummer’s dad forced him to step down. The rest is history.”
“Your band didn’t win a TV talent show?”
“We went at it the old-fashioned way.”
“I can’t believe you’ve had two formidable careers and you’re only thirty-one.”
“I can’t believe it myself.” I chuckle. “I don’t take it for granted, though.”
“It shows. You take your company very seriously.”
“I do.” It fills me with pride she’d notice. “So does Rhys.”
“You two have a great partnership.”
“I’m very lucky. What about you? Can I ask how old you are?”
“Twenty-nine. I’ll be thirty soon.”
“The big 3-0.”
“Yeah.”
“Good? Bad? Not sure?”
“Not sure.”
“What’s missing to make it good?” I ask. “Better yet, what’s missing to make it fucking good?”
“The last two years have been like starting from scratch. I saw myself at a different place in my life by now.”
“Sometimes a detour can be so much better than a well laid out plan,” I tell her. “Another stay at rehab wasn’t part of the plan for me.”
“I doubt anyone has that on their bucket list,” she says.
“No one does.” I shake my head. “I was just hoping to come out of there clean and more in control of my life. Meeting Rhys was totally unexpected. I wouldn’t have a second career—that could trump the first one—without that detour. Rehab was a godsend in many ways for me. Maybe it’s the same for you. Maybe LA has a lot to offer… you just don’t know it yet!” I tap the tip of her nose.
“Maybe.”
She doesn’t sound too convinced.
I don’t push.
“What else is there to know about the great Beckett Christensen?” she asks, changing the subject.
“I doubt there isn’t anything you haven’t read online. Other than my legendary partying,”—and fucking—“and my troubled days struggling with drug dependency, my life has been pretty easygoing. My parents have had their ups and downs, but they still love each other and they’re still together after so many years. My brother and me are tight. Same goes for my cousins and my boys.”
“What brought on the name of your company?” she asks.
“SCORE, as in music score.”
