He’s holding his phone in his hand, frozen in place. The cameras and the shouting outside persist, so I step around Mik and close the shutters in all the windows facing the front of the house.
The back is safe because the fence is tall, and I doubt the paparazzi are stupid enough to destroy private property to get some photos. Or at least I hope they are.
My phone is charging in the kitchen, so I grab it to call the police department when it starts ringing.
Daisy’s name comes up. Before I think about the fact I haven’t spoken to her for weeks, I answer. “Daisy, this isn’t a good time.”
“I beg to disagree. If you want help getting rid of the paps outside your place, you need to listen to me.”
“How…how do you know?”
“Honey, you’re all over TMZ. Nice PJs, by the way. Now put me on loudspeaker.”
I do as she asks.
“Can you both hear me?”
Mik seems to come out of his trance when he hears Daisy’s voice.
I pull him over to the couch, and we sit next to each other with the phone on the coffee table.
“We can hear you,” I say.
“Okay, boys, there’s a lot to explain, but first things first. Mik, Nikko is on his way down from Vermont. He’s going to stay with Kay. The priority is to keep her anonymity.”
Mik leans forward. “She slept at a friend’s house. She’s at school right now.”
“Perfect,” Daisy says. “Nikko should be there by the time she gets out of school. Usually, I’d have contacted the security company we work with, but since it’s likely this will spill over some time, I figured Kay needs to be with someone she trusts. Nikko is the least recognizable of you.”
I listen to the conversation in confusion. Daisy knows…the band? Does she work with them?
“Thank you, Daisy. I’ll send Kay a message so she’s not caught by surprise,” Mik says.
“Okay. Now that’s sorted, can you tell me how my two best clients know each other, and why don’t I know about it?”
Mik stares at me. “Client?”
“Daisy is my agent and manager,” I explain.
“You mean…” Mik starts.
“I’ve been writing songs for years, since before I met Seymour and Porter. I didn’t want to perform on my own, so Porter convinced me to find an agent to help me sell the songs.”
Mik shakes his head. “How did I not know?”
“Because your man has been living like a reclusive monk, that’s why.”
I roll my eyes.
“He’s rolling his eyes, isn’t he?” she asks.
Mik puts his hand on my cheek and whispers, “You followed your dream.”
I nod.
“Anyway,” Daisy continues, “don’t let the surly hermit vibe deceive you, Mik. Tyler has won multiple songwriting awards. Or he would have if he listened to me.”
“Daisy,” I warn.
