Chapter 16
Everett
“Hey, June bug,” I say, smiling down at my phone as the video call connects.
“Hey Ever!” One of my younger sisters says. “Hope you’re not too busy.”
“I’m about to head to the studio, but I’m never too busy for a call with you.”
“Oh my God, you’re going to the studio!” My other sister, Cleo, says, her wild, bright pink hair forcing its way into the frame of the video call.
“Hey!” Juno hisses. “Personal space!”
“Personal space, you’ve got a sour-puss-face,” Cleo rhymes childishly.
The two of them are twins, and sometimes having twin omega sisters means they bicker like... well, like they’re omega twins.
“Okay, Ever,” Cleo continues. “You have to spill the tea on Beckham’s relationship! I’m dying of curiosity.”
“You know I can’t share that,” I say, letting out a soft chuckle.
“Come on—,” she sing-songs. “Not even for your baby sister?”
“Not even for my baby sister.”
“You’re hijacking my call for gossip?” Juno huffs, wrestling the phone away from Cleo.
“Gossip makes the world go round!” Cleo yells from the background.
Over my time in the industry, I’ve noticed how drastic the difference between musicians and actors can be. I think my sisters are prime examples of this. Juno’s an actress, so she’s used to working on other people’s schedules and call times.
Cleo, on the other hand? She’s paving her way in the music industry. The only schedule she runs on is her own. That may come in part because of my support, considering she’s signed to my label too, but that doesn’t mean she works any less than Juno.
“Well, I just wanted to check up on you, Ever,” Juno says. “It’s been a while since you called.”
“You’re right,” I sigh, stroking my beard. “Sorry about that, June-bug. It’s been busy.”
“But you’ve been alright, right?” There’s a line that appears between her brows. It’s always been one of the distinguishing features between her and Cleo. Maybe because Juno’s always been the worrywart out of the two.
“I’m doing well. No need to worry about me.”
“Okay then,” she nods. “You should call mom when you have a chance. She misses you too. Anyway, we’ve gotta go now. Don’t be a stranger, Ever!”
“I won’t. Love you guys.”
“Love you,” Juno says.
“Love you!” Cleo calls simultaneously.
Silence fills my penthouse apartment after the call ends.
Calls with my sisters always make something tighten in my chest. I remember days of the past, the days right after our dad died.
When I was sixteen I had to step up and become the man of the house right after my mom had given birth to the twins.
My time was filled with uncertainty and long hours.
Now look at us.
It’s funny. It’s been nearly two and a half decades since my dad died, and part of me still misses him, despite… everything about our relationship. There’s still that childish part of me that wonders if he’s looking down at us with pride.
I don’t have too much time to ruminate on these feelings, though. I have some new music to listen to.
The drive to the studio is like second nature. I could do it in my sleep.
When I step around the corner from the parking lot, I see Elijah trying to balance a bunch of things from the local coffee shop on his arm in order to open the door.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I tease, sliding up my aviator shades before helping him open the door.
“Thanks,” Elijah grunts.
“Damn, you look...”
“Like shit?” Elijah chuckles. “Yeah, Leo and I slept here last night.”
“Well, I was going to go with tired, but you said it, not me.”
Elijah rolls his eyes before handing me a warm paper bag. “Got you your usual sandwich.”
“Thanks.”
Elijah leads me to the break room in the back.
Sprawled out on one of the plush couches is a frazzled-looking Beck. I instantly catalog the bags under his eyes, the nervous drumming of his fingertips, the fact that he’s still in the same outfit he was in last night.
The same outfit he wore to his first “date” with the omega. Andromeda Sterling.
“How’re you doing, Beck?”
“Oh, me? Well... good. Let’s go with good.”
“Sounds like a complicated answer,” I chuckle as I take a seat across from him as Elijah hands out the rest of the food and coffee.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Beck shrugs. “I’m just... nervous. I don’t think I’ve ever written like this before. Just worried it’s all shit.”
“Well, something being bad isn’t the end of the world. Takes time for the Earth to make a diamond, and all.”
“It’s too early in the morning for you to get all metaphorical on me,” he groans. “Do you really want to hear what I’ve been working on? It’s... so early in the process, you know?”
“Of course I want to listen,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “This is the first time we’ve had the opportunity to do so, considering your last album was essentially already completed when I signed you.”
“Yeah,” he nods, before taking a large swig of his coffee. “I guess it is.”
Maybe it’s because of my sisters, but I’ve always had a sort of protectiveness for omegas in this industry. There are so many things that aren’t built for them, especially considering the novelty of Beckham’s designation as a male omega.
That said, I don’t need to have an alpha’s nose to tell that he’s incredibly anxious.
“Look, Beckham, I signed you because I saw your talent. Not just your potential. You have a gift. It’d be a shame to let your insecurities get in the way of what I know you’re capable of. It’s not like I’m expecting you to pull out a fully developed number one radio hit right away, okay?”
“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll... I’ll go get my guitar.”
He returns from the studio room with an acoustic guitar.
“We can... we can go if you want,” Eli offers with a grunt.
“Nah, you guys can stay,” he says, giving it a tentative strum. “You guys are always the first I play my music for, anyway.”
And then he starts to sing.
It’s at that moment that I know the only thing holding back Beckham Knight from being one of the biggest stars of our generation is his own mind. Because he truly has a gift.
Even though he apologizes for how messy it is, I almost regret my earlier words. Even though it’s just him and his guitar, there are definitely the bones of a number one radio hit right here.
There’s a vulnerability in the lyrics that’s impossible to manufacture, no matter how hard you try in this industry. That, on top of the rough-around-the-edges quality, his voice takes on? It makes it impossible to look away.
The room shifts as he sings, all three of us falling silent and still as if time has stopped.
The silence is all that’s left after the last line leaves his lips.
He glances around at the three of us nervously, his eyes wide and his knuckles white as he grips his guitar.
“Well, um, what did you think? This is only one of the songs I worked on. I thought it was the best, but maybe—”
“What? No maybe’s, man,” Leo says, interrupting Beckham’s babbling. “That was awesome!”
“Seriously,” Eli agrees, clearing his throat and averting his gaze.
Interesting.
It’s obvious who Beckham drew inspiration from, both in his lyrics and in his creative spree last night.
Maybe that has something to do with the awkwardness I sense there. He’s seen the two of them interact. Maybe there’s something I should know about if Eli has feelings about it, considering how wholeheartedly devoted to Beck he is.
I should know about anything that could hurt Beckham. Not just because I’m personally invested in the success of his career, but because I’ve grown rather fond of him since signing him on.
“What did you think?” Beckham asks me, his eyes shining with anxious anticipation.
“I think we should head into that studio right now. I was wrong, Beckham. I do think we have a number one radio hit on our hands.”
“Wh—what? Wait, like the two of us? I thought—I thought you didn’t do that anymore.”
“I do today,” I say, standing from my seat.
He’s right. Ever since I became the owner of this record label, I’ve had far less time to dedicate to the art form. But I started out as a music producer, and seeing Beckham’s raw talent is leaving me itching to get behind the soundboard again.
“Really? Holy shit, thank you, Everett! This is... wow, was it really that good?”
I stop, my hand on the doorknob to the studio. I make sure he meets my gaze before offering him a firm nod.
“Yes.”
“O—oh,” he says, his voice taking on a breathless quality. He should sing the harmonies of the chorus like that.
“Great. Let’s get started on that demo.”
Some people shit on pop music, but it’s a skill-set on its own to make something with mass appeal. Something that resonates enough to make a lot of people feel things. You know how hard that is when there are so many people with such different lives?
But there’s something about Beckham, about his enthusiasm, about the way he writes, about the way he’s so open to feedback despite his earlier anxieties. Something that just makes him so easy to work with.
We’re done with the demo in two hours.
A record in my book. It normally takes a whole lot longer when I’m on the other side of this booth because of how particular I am about certain things. But Beckham and I seem to have found a groove.
“You’re the best boss ever,” Beckham says, tugging his headphones so they hang around his neck. “You’re so good at what you do.”
“So are you.” I nod as he steps out of the booth. “And that praise doesn’t come easily to me. It’s hard to produce a hit from someone without talent, and you have that talent in spades.”
“You—you really think this is gonna be a hit?”
“I do.” My expression grows serious as I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Which is why I need to meet Andromeda Sterling soon.”
“What?” His steps falter.
Interesting.
Even more reason I should meet the girl.
“She’s obviously a fountain of inspiration for you, but being inspired to this level often means having big feelings.”
He just blinks at me, frozen like a deer in headlights.
Bingo.
“Am I wrong?” I ask, cataloging all of his reactions.
He just winces.
“Is it because of the public’s perception of things?” he finally says, seemingly in an attempt to change the subject. “Aren’t those going well so far?”
“They are going well. But there are still people who have doubts, likely because of Gina Sterling’s reputation.”
“Andi’s not her mom, she’s—she’s—”
I hold my hands up in surrender in the face of Beckham’s quick defense.
“Never said she was. I just said that I need to meet her, especially considering... how influential she’s been on this level of creativity.”
He swallows hard before offering me a jerky nod. “Okay. Andi’s not like her mom, though. She’s—she’s special.”
All the more reason I need to meet her.
“Invite her to the studio sometime. We can show her the demo.”
He tucks his hands into his back pockets before offering me another nod.
“Good work today, Beckham. Have more confidence in yourself.”