My Kind of Forever (Beaumont 5)

The ding of my cell phone has me fishing it out of my pocket. Her name is backlit causing me to sigh heavily in relief. Opening her message, I read it quickly, trying to comprehend that she’s been home this whole time and is just tired. I haven’t spoken to her in over twelve hours and that is all she has to say to me?

I type out a quick “Let’s talk” and send it. I have an uneasy feeling about all of this and need to hear her voice.

Jojo: In a bit. I’m with Katelyn.

I stare at my phone in disbelief. A small wave of relief washes over me knowing she’s with Katelyn, but why the hell is she blowing me off? I pocket my phone and continue to stare out the window, letting the anger build. I don’t expect her to be at my beck and call, but I do have a certain expectation that she wants to talk to me. I know we’ve been apart before and maybe she’s already accustomed to the distance. If so, I’m not doing my job as her husband, not that I really know what I’m supposed to do other than love her. She has to know that she’s my world and that I’d do anything for her - the immensity of that scares me. I fear the day she asks me to quit being Liam Page because I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do as she asks. But I won’t lose her either, not to the music side of my life.

The sun starts to rise, peaking over the horizon. It catches me off guard, causing me to squint and move away from the window. Where did the time go? It’s felt like only minutes have gone by while I’ve waited for Josie to call me, not what many people consider a full day. My steps are slow and deliberate as I walk into my bedroom. The king size bed holds no appeal to me, but sleep beckons. Spending hours waiting for a phone call while staring out a window can be draining. Not only is my body tired, but my mind is about to shut down. Long gone are the days of me pulling all-nighters that can last up to three days.

Falling onto the bed, I pull the pillow under me and hug it to my chest. It’s a void filler for the body that I wish I were holding instead. Hell, just to hear her voice right now would help my mind unwind and allow me to fall asleep. I wrangle my phone out of my pocket and hit the voice recorder. I say, “Jojo, I love you” and send her the file, hoping it will get her to call me. I need to hear that she loves me because right now I’m afraid I’m just fucking up right and left.

I startle awake at the sound of pounding. My eyes are shut tight and fighting to stay that way. Rolling over, I cringe when something hard hits me in the face. I search blindly for the object and the size alone tells me it’s my phone. Sitting up slowly, I swing my legs over to the edge and hold my pounding head in my hands. I open my eyes slowly and rub the sleep away. I can’t believe I fell asleep last night – or early this morning – whatever time it was. Reaching for my phone, I press the home screen but nothing happens.

“Fuck,” I yell, realizing that my phone is dead. I plug it into the charger sitting next to my bed and make my way to the door with the intent of maiming the person on the other side. I don’t bother to look in the peephole before opening it.

Big mistake.

Mr. Moreno doesn’t wait to be invited in; he pushes past me as if he owns the place. Knowing my luck, he probably does, which would explain the over eager escort waiting for me at the door when we arrived. For some reason I peer out into the hallway. I’m not sure if I’m looking for Sam, even though I know she’s gone, or trying to mentally prepare myself to flee my room.

I contemplate leaving the door open so I can make a run for it, but know Mr. Moreno can’t physically hurt me. Career-wise, he can destroy me and right now that’s not something I need to happen. Letting go of the door, it slams shut, but doesn’t even faze him. He’s looking at the faux art hanging on the walls. It’s the same on each floor, varying from room to room. I know this because JD had to come in and take a picture to show Jenna.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” His sarcastic tone causes my heart to race. I hate that he has any power over me at all. When we settled in court, I thought that was the last I’d see of him and I am pretty sure our restraining order included him. It’s something I need to look into, especially since he’s making repeat appearances on our behalf.

“I seem to remember different art when you and Sam lived together.”

“We never lived together,” I bite back. “She stayed with me… briefly.”

He smirks and dismisses my statement with a wave of his hand. Mr. Moreno is a smart businessman, but personality-wise he’s always scared the shit out of me. Sam hinted once about having ties to the mob, which is common in old town Hollywood. Frank Sinatra did, so why wouldn’t someone like Moreno?

Glass is clanked together, catching me off guard. I shake my head and chide myself for losing focus while he’s here. Mr. Moreno has poured himself a drink, effectively charging up my wet bar. I’ll be sure to send him the bill for the incidentals when I get it. He wasn’t invited, and I’m definitely not willingly entertaining him.

“What do you want?” I ask, needing to get him out of here and out of my life for good. I sit on the edge of the cream colored chair, unwilling to get comfortable. He sits across from me. His left leg rests on his knee and his fedora is perched on the edge of the armrest. The amber colored scotch swirls as he drinks, prolonging his impromptu visit.

I refrain from getting angry because I think that’s what he wants. He knows anger fuels emotions, and he wants me to say something that is going to bind me to him. It’s not going to happen even if it’s the smartest thing for the band. If the band decides we want to re-sign with Moreno Entertainment, then we will make that decision together.

“You need me,” he says bluntly. He’s right; I do need –him – or someone like him. He’s a pit bull, a shark. People are afraid of him, including his clients. But he gets the job done, and that’s what the band needs, someone who is going to lead the path that we want to carve out for ourselves.

“Maybe it’s you who needs me.” I’m not sure where the confidence came from, but it’s there and flashing like a beacon in my eyes. Why is he so eager to have us back? We sued his company and won, wouldn’t that put a bad taste in his mouth? Unless of course, he’s trying to screw us, and that is definitely something I wouldn’t put past him.

He scoffs at my suggestion. I knew he would, but now that I’ve said it out loud, it’s the angle I’m taking.

?

?You’re pissing away your career. If you don’t want to be someone, let the kid go. He has potential.”

“Kid?” I question.

“The Davis boy. It’s in his genes to be on stage in front of sold out crowds. He knows this and is just biding his time with you.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

Once again he dismisses me with his hand and a smirk. “Let me tell you this Liam, I am not anything like Sam. I don’t give a shit about whom you fuck behind your wife’s back or who you knock up. What I care about is making money and so do you. You know damn well that you were at the top of the charts until you decided to go back to Sleepy Hollow.”

He stands and places his half-full glass on the side table next to the chair. In one quick movement, his hat is on his head and he’s standing before me.

“You know I can take you to the top. Sam is gone, and no longer an issue. If you think I need you, you’re sadly mistaken, but I’m willing to right the wrongs that my daughter committed against you. Think about it, Page.” He leans closer and I can smell the scotch on his breath. “Millions of screaming women throwing their panties on stage for you, posting about you on social media and saying how they’d leave their husbands for you. Sold out tours across the country and dollars in your pocket. You can bring your little wife, or leave her at home and take a mistress. I don’t give a fuck. What I do care about is money and 4225 West has the potential to make all of us very rich.”

Mr. Moreno walks away, pulling the door open quickly. He turns and looks at me. “Before you make a decision, talk it over with the guys. Make sure they’re okay with you pussy footing around in your basement while their bank accounts are dwindling.”