Page 47 of Perfect Satisfaction

Angela Fahey Burke’s eyes dart from Carys to Brendan to David and finally they linger on me. David stands and lifts the tray from her hands. “We appreciate the help, Angie.”

Her eyes frost over.

I open my mouth to apologize.

“Don’t say a word. There’s nothing you could say that would make me forgive what you’ve done to her,” she says before turning on a heel and leaving.

“Did to her?” I wonder aloud.

Even as I repeat the words, the force of them slams into me like a baseball bat to the chest.She knows. She knows what’s happening between me and Ursula.The fury she’s feeling is on behalf of her friend.

What the fuck is with these women?

Brendan stretches his hands so they cradle the back of his head. “Well, damn if this didn’t just get interesting.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Brendan Blake is the epitome of what every male should aspire to.

I ran into the country music singer a few days ago while he was buying out a toy store for a local hospital that specializes in cancer research. “These kids deserve more than tubes and monitors to wake up to every morning. I couldn’t even fathom if it were my own kids in that same predicament.” Then, with a charming wink, he plucked the stuffed guitar I had picked for my nephew out of my hands.

Now, ask me if I minded? I’ll preempt your comments. Of course not.

When I got home, I donated and printed a card for my nephew telling him what his Valentine’s Day gift is.

#stupidcancer #lls @brendanblake @wildcardmusic

—Moore You Want

“You agreed to the rules, Mr. Ronan.”Carys’s aquamarine eyes glitter at me. “Five questions which we pre-approved.”

“Plus one you know nothing about,” I remind her.

Her lips tighten. “Yes.”

I turn to find Brendan Blake lounging insouciantly. His booted feet are propped up on the table, cowboy hat discarded. “Do you mind if I record the session?”

“Not at all,” he answers.

I place my iPhone on the table and press Record. “Interview between Arek Ronan and Brendan Blake.” I rattle off the date before meeting glittering blue eyes. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Blake. With your permission, I’d like to include some of your previous answers to interview questions in the article.”

Before Brendan can respond, Carys interjects, “Once you have the article written, I’ll provide final approval on that. I want to ensure they’re not taken out of context.”

This woman isn’t a piranha, she’s a fucking jellyfish—annoying as fuck and able to come back and sting over and over again. “Mr. Blake, do you agree with your attorney?”

“Absolutely.”

“Excellent. With that in mind, I’d like to skip over the basics about your career and background, to get to some deeper questions.”

“Oh, by all means. Let’s get to the tough stuff.”

I release a breath before I ask, “You’re forty-six years old and have earned every one of music industry’s highest achievements. Why keep recording? Why keep touring?”

Carys opens her mouth, but Brendan holds up a hand. “I’ll consider that one question, Carys. The answer’s the same regardless.”

Then he turns back to me and the anger’s dropped from his face. This is the Brendan Blake I’m used to dealing with. I begin to relax slightly.

“I’m a musician at heart, not a performer. I’m inspired by the least provocation—including when one of my children drew all over my favorite guitar with my wife’s lipstick. Off the record, I’ve figured out which one it was.” That causes a chuckle to race around the room. “Music was one of the world’s earliest forms of communication. It can bring people together in a way that nothing else can. I believe I was given a gift to be a mouthpiece for people. As long as I’m granted this gift, I’ll use it.”