Page 84 of Uncharted Desires
Kat shrugged. “I did a lot of meditating, listening to nature, reading. I feel like I’ve reestablished a connection with nature that I haven’t had in a long time.”
Both Lydia and Cher gave her a strange look, as if they weren’t quite sure what to make of her.
“I promise I’m still a city girl, but there is a place for both in my heart,” Kat said. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I always thought it would be to write my own albums and become a recording artist, but then I met a Balinese girl who was way more talented than me. Her voice and sound were amazing. I think she could really break into the industry. I helped her refine a few of her songs.”
“That’s fantastic, Kat! And what if you’re calling is amplifying voices like yours or others left out of the conversation?” Cher asked.
“That would be great. How do I do that?” Kat asked, sighing as she leaned back against the seat.
“I probably shouldn’t say anything. He should be the one to . . .” Cher trailed off.
“Cher!” Lydia said in the backseat.
“Okay, well now I’m intrigued,” Kat said, sitting up straight, looking back and forth between her friends. “Spill!”
“West started his own label to produce his music.”
Kat sucked in a breath; he had actually done it. She couldn’t believe he had listened to her.
“He called me. He needed your number because he wants you to run the label, Kat. You choose the artists, you produce the albums—it’s yours. He did it for you, and, girl, it’s the most romantic gesture I’ve ever heard.”
Kat felt a tear slip from her eye. Already just the mention of West had her turning into a watering pot. She had left out that part of her trip to Bali. She had connected with nature, and then she had cried. She had read, and then she had cried. She had tried to write a song through her grief and then ended up crying. But she couldn’t come back, she had felt like a failure.
She had been convinced her vision was telling her she would write her album on the beach in Bali. But now maybe it had simply meant West was helping put her on her true path. To find exciting new artists who otherwise would have been overlooked by the big labels. Artists like Killo, who she had worked with in Bali.
“But he’s just giving it to me. I’ll still just be West’s arm candy who got his label because he fucks me,” Kat protested, knowing she shouldn’t care, but still worried what others would say about her only having the label because of West.
“Who fucking cares?” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “You know how shallow that world is. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. All that matters is you know you’re doing work you care about. And something tells me you’ll crush it. You always know the best new artists before the radio ever does, and you fixed half of West’s songs for the better. Especially that first album we were on.”
“Thanks, Lyd.” Kat wiped at her eyes.
“What are friends for? I still can’t believe you and West finally got together.” Lydia leaned forward again grinning. “So, what’s he like in bed?”
“Lydia!” both Kat and Cher yelled.
They all giggled as Cher pulled the car into the parking lot of their hotel. “He’d move the world for you, Kat. In fact, he’s already told the entire world he loves you, and the Weston Monroe I knew before we got on that yacht would never have done that. You did that. Your love did that.”
Kat nodded as she got out of the car.
Lydia bounded out of the back. “Okay, enough of this sentimental shit. Let’s have some fun this weekend while we’re all still wild and free, shall we?”
But Kat wasn’t free at all. Her heart belonged to one man for the rest of forever.
It had taken West a couple of weeks after his father’s big revelation to pull himself out of his stupor, but once he finally did, he got to work. He had thought long and hard about his father’s words. What could he do for Kat without actually doing it for her? He still didn’t have a clue, but he knew what he could do for himself: he wanted to find musicians like him or even more outside the box than him. She had inspired him, had planted a seed on the island, and over time, it had grown into an idea he truly saw as his reality.
Over the past two months, he had called together his sound engineers, producers, and musicians, along with a construction crew. They had turned his pool house into a state of the art recording studio where he would not only record his own music but also take on his own indie artists. Artists of color, women, and various backgrounds who weren’t usually seen in their respective genres; he wanted to give them a platform to be seen. Musicians like Kat, with their own unique voices that weren’t made for the mainstream but still had music worth sharing with the world, even if they wouldn’t make him millions of dollars.
By day he and his crew, whom he had stolen from his former label, worked on building the studio, and by night he started working on his first independent album. Songs that were completely written by him, with no label interference. Songs inspired by his love for Kat, and the absolute heartbreak of losing her.
She had been right: the music was in him. It wasn’t his father that had ruined it for him, but the grueling schedules and stipulations the label had put on him. Now he was free to do as he pleased, to make the music he wanted. He felt free. The only thing missing was Kat.
The sound engineers were out in the studio putting the finishing touches on the soundboard when his new administrative assistant came up to the house.
“You have an appointment today, sir. They’re waiting in the studio.”
“Please, just West,” he reminded the kid for the thousandth time. He was the younger brother of Reggie and was just happy to have a job.
The kid opened his mouth to speak and then thought better of it. West waited, but the kid said nothing. “And . . . what do they want?” he prompted.