I look at Carsen, unable to tell her exactly how I feel. Part of it, I guess, is that seeing her twirling in her dress, looking more mature than I’ve ever imagined possible scares the shit out of me. What happened to the little girl in pigtails who’d wake up in the middle of the night and beg to climb into bed with me so that I could keep the monsters away?

There’s no evidence of that little girl now as she struts and twirls, looking comfortable in the short one-inch wedge heels that Sarah and Elise talked me into letting her wear. The other part of me is so damn proud of my little girl and the young woman she’s growing up to become. It’s an oddly oppositional pull to want to see who she can be while at the same time wanting to force her to stay my baby forever.

Carsen comes over to me, wrapping her arms around me in a hug. I look down, seeing just the hint of mascara and blush that Elise did for her, and when she smiles, she looks so much like the woman she’s going to become it makes my heart ache. “I love you, Daddy. I’m sorry you can’t take me to the dance.”

“It’s okay honey,” I promise, rubbing my freshly shaved head. The label wants me to get some new photos done for the next album and summer tour, and that means ‘Keith Perkins’ needs to be in full effect. "You look beautiful, baby. More like your mother every day. Did I ever tell you about the time I took her to our first high school dance?"

Carsen shakes her head, making me sigh. I know I don't talk about Janie much, but Carsen should hear these stories. Her mother loved her so much, and it certainly wasn’t Carsen’s fault that we fell out of love or what happened in the end.

"Come over here and sit down,” I reply, noticing Sarah and Elise quietly moving toward the exit. I can see they understand. This is our time. “Over the years, Janie and I went to a few dances together. But the very first one was a winter formal. I wore what had to be the ugliest suit in existence. But she looked gorgeous in a white dress with little blue flowers on it. It actually looked a lot like what you’re wearing now."

Carsen looks down, delight obvious on her face as she runs her hands along the skirt of her dress. “Really?”

I nod, smiling a little at the memory. "I was so nervous I didn't know how to dance at all. But your mom helped me, just swayed back and forth with me. It was a great night, the first of many. And that's what tonight will be for you too. The first of many greats as you grow up. I know she'd be real proud of the young lady you're becoming."

Carsen’s eyes are shining, and when I open my arms, she runs into them, giving me a big hug and laying her head on my shoulder, climbing into my lap a little. She barely fits, but that’s okay. I hold her tight, knowing that my little girl is growing up so damn fast. Too fast, and I want to freeze time right here, where she's on the cusp of leaving her innocent childhood behind and becoming a teenager.

A teenage daughter? What the hell am I going to do?

I don't know how to raise a teenage daughter. Hell, I barely survived my teen years with my sanity intact. I know I’ll have my hands full when she starts being interested in boys, that’s for sure.

But as I look around, I know I'm not alone. Sarah and Elise are still in the doorway, holding hands and watching the scene between Carsen and me with watery smiles. They’re so different, yet so vital and similar.

Sarah has been there for me almost since the very beginning, sacrificing so much to make our lives work as I chase my music dreams. She’s been essential to my becoming a true man, and she’s never complained.

And Elise has fit in nearly seamlessly to our little family, bringing with her sass and joyfulness, and a love of life that’s reignited the passion in my own heart. It's not what some would call a picture-perfect life, but it’s perfect for me, and I'm so damn thankful for it.

Sarah glances at her watch. “All right, young lady. Go grab your purse and let’s go.”

Carsen runs off to her room and Sarah pats my shoulder. “Good job, Keith. I was scared you’d end up locking her in her room and not let her go.”

I smile, knowing that I’d considered it, but I also know I can’t stop my little girl from growing up. “It definitely crossed my mind, but I figured you two would stop me.”

Elise chuckles and comes over, sitting on my knee and putting her arms around my shoulders. "Well, I'm the bad influence here, so the plan was for Sarah to distract you while I showed Carsen how to sneak out a window. I figure it's a life skill that'll serve her well."

I growl at her. "You'll teach her no such thing."

There's a moment where the unsaid threat hangs in the air, tension coiled around us, then it breaks as we all bust up laughing. Elise leans into me and gives me a smack on the cheek. "Okay, we talked about it but I wouldn't have actually shown her how to sneak out. Probably. Maybe."

I love her brattiness, knowing that she's joking and wouldn't actually lead Carsen astray, but to tease me about it is enough to warrant a bit of a spanking later, the kind that leaves us both more than satisfied, and that makes my smile more than a bit predatory and we both know it.

Sarah clears her throat, turning toward the hallway. "Well, on that note, I'll be leaving now. I'll pick up Carsen and bring her home tomorrow mid-morning. Maybe be dressed this time?"

I grin, but Elise blushes. It's a pretty sight and makes me want her round ass the same flushed pink color.

As Carsen jets back into the room, I call out some last-minute reminders. "You've got your phone to call if you need anything. Have fun, baby. Sarah will pick you up at Kaitlyn's tomorrow after your sleepover, and then you can tell us all about the dance. Behave, young lady!"

Carsen runs back, a knowing look on her face as she kisses my cheek. "I love you too, Dad."

And then she's gone in a flash, so much sooner than I expected. I sit in my chair, stunned at how fast it happened. Sarah gives me one more smile as she follows Carsen out to the car, and they’re gone. To my baby’s first dance.

The silence is deafening but slowly becomes filled with promise and potential as I realize we’re alone all night. I meet Elise’s mouth in a soft kiss, pulling her body flush to mine. "Thank you for being here tonight. I know Carsen liked that we were all here to celebrate her first dance, and she was thrilled with the dress you found."

Elise smiles, snuggling tighter against me and melting into my arms. "I'm glad I was here too. She looked beautiful and I think she liked the story about her mom."

I apprise her carefully, running my hand up and down Elise’s arm, knowing I’d have to talk with her about this but hopeful there isn’t a problem. "That didn't bother you, did it?"

"Of course not!” Elise says, sitting up and smiling. “A girl needs her mother, even if it's only through stories. She's lucky to have had a mother who loved her and a dad who can tell her those stories. Plus, Sarah is a great role model for her. She's a loved girl."

"She is. And so are you."

Elise smiles at me, obviously pleased. “I know it’s fast, but I’m hoping that I can be . . . well, not a mom—I think Sarah’s got that role covered—but at least a good friend and role model for her too.”

“I think it’s not too early to think about that,” I reassure her, giving her another kiss, already getting lost in her sweetness. Suddenly, there's a shrill beeping from the nearby kitchen. Sitting back, I laugh a little sorrowfully. “Goddamn phone. I'd better check it anyway in case it's Carsen."

Elise lets me up, and I go into the kitchen, where it’s sitting on the counter, still ringing away. I check the screen, but it says unknown number. Normally, I'd let it go to voicemail considering not many people have this number, but it could be Carsen calling from a friend’s mom’s phone or something, so I pick up. "Hello."

There's a moment of silence, then a man’s voice comes on, sounding muffled but still distinctly male. "Keith Perkins?"

"Who's asking?" I reply, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

"Mr. Perkins, we need to meet,” a voice says, more clear now and almost . . . snooty sounding. “I’ve come into some information I think you'd be rather interested in. Write this address down. 3489 Johnson Boulevard, right off Main. Be here in one hour."

"What?” I ask, wondering if this asshole is drunk or something. “What are you talking about? Meet for what?”

Elise steps in my field of view, a concerned look on her face. "Everything okay?" she mouths silently. I shrug, and she lifts an eyebrow.

I hold up one finger, asking her to wait a second to fire off the questions I can see in her eyes, and focus on listening to the man on the phone. "One hour. 3489 Johnson Boulevard,” he repeats. “Do not be late, Mr. Perkins. I'm certain you won't like the consequences if someone else were to get this information before you do."

There's a click and the line goes dead as the man hangs up. I stare at my phone for a moment, feeling like I’ve just been punched in the gut.

"Who was that?” Elise asks as I set my phone down. “What's wrong, Keith? You look pale as a ghost."

"I don't know,” I reply, trying to keep my voice level. “A guy said that he has information I'd be interested in. Gave me an address and said to be there in an hour."

"What?” Elise asks, shocked. “What are you going to do?"

I shake my head, running my hands over my smooth dome. "I don't know."

I search my memories, replaying the conversation again, looking for clues what this could be about, a sinking feeling in my stomach. He said I wouldn’t like it if someone else got the information. That sounds like a threat, whatever it is. Of course, my brain leapfrogs to Carsen first, since she’s always my greatest secret, but there’s no reason for anyone to know about her.

Elise, ever the investigator, stays calm, trying to be helpful. "What's the address? Maybe we can look it up and get a clue?"

“3489 Johnson,” I recite for her, and her jaw drops.

"Oh, my God!" she gasps, her voice trailing off into a whisper. “No way.”

"What? Do you know the address?"

She nods, her face frozen in horror. "That’s my office, Keith. That's the address of The Daily Spot."

Elise’s office. Okay, keep it cool . . . "We should go. Maybe it's just about the articles?" I say hopefully, knowing I’m full of shit even as I say it. The man didn’t introduce himself like it was a professional call, and he specifically said he had information I wouldn’t like.

The truck ride into town is silent, both of us considering a million possibilities for what we're walking into.

Pulling in, it looks like a normal office building on a weekend, empty and just waiting, recovering after a busy week before it gets swarmed again on Monday with worker ants trying to hustle a buck.

The main parking lot is empty except for one Mercedes parked up front. “Guess that’s the mystery man.”

Elise’s voice shakes, and her hand comes to cover her mouth. "That's Donnie's car."

My phone buzzes again, and I look to see I’ve got a text message. Upstairs, sixth floor. Front’s unlocked.

Elise reaches out, and I take her hand as we go inside, the empty, nearly dark lobby making things even more foreboding. We take the elevator up to the sixth floor, stepping off and following the only light visible, a dim glow that brightens as we approach. “Is this . . .?”

“My office,” Elise whispers in reply, pointing at the etched glass. “At least, the lobby.”

We open the door and follow the glow to another office, where inside, we find a round weasel-looking man sitting behind a large desk. Even before he speaks, the crystal bowl of jellybeans on the corner of his desk tells me exactly who he is. “Donnie.”

Donnie doesn’t look surprised, but instead his ruddy face glows, obviously pleased. “Keith! You don’t mind if I call you Keith, do you? That whole Mr. Perkins shit is for people who aren’t friends, and I think you and I are going to be very good friends. Elise . . . so good to see you too. I wasn’t sure I’d be seeing you tonight.” He pauses, a comical sneer on his face. “Oh, who am I kidding? Of course, I knew you were at Keith’s tonight!” He claps his hands twice, like he’s overjoyed at our being here, as if this is some twisted fucking social call.

I don't respond, keeping my gaze on the man. I don't trust him. He's too at ease here, delighted at calling the shots as we come running to his territory when he beckoned. I sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk, wanting to show that I don't perceive him as a threat. Elise follows my lead, sitting in the other chair, but she looks scared and disgusted at the same time.

As we sit, there's a sound behind us and Francesca walks in, shutting the door behind her and going over to Donnie's side to perch on the narrow built-in bookshelf behind him. Putting a well-manicured hand on Donnie’s shoulder, she sneers at Elise, smug satisfaction rolling off her in waves.

Donnie looks over his shoulder for a moment, patting Francesca’s bare knee like you’d pat a strange dog on the head. “Thank you, Fran. We’re just getting started.”

She smiles wanly at him, but I catch the flash of disgust in her eyes at his touch. His eyes stay locked on her leg so Donnie doesn’t notice her reaction.

Donnie turns back to Elise and me. “So, Elise. I have to say, I’ve been mostly pleased with your work. It’s well-written and if I was running Country Music Weekly, you'd probably be getting a raise. However, this is the goddamn Daily Spot, and your articles are decidedly lacking on . . . juiciness."

He says the word juiciness with emphasis, spittle pooling at the corners of his mouth. Reaching over, he picks up a small handful of jellybeans and pops a few in his mouth.

Elise starts to speak, but Donnie waves her off. "Don't bother telling me there's nothing again. You've already said it enough, and I'm well aware that you're lying. After all . . . you’ve given me all the dirt I need."

Elise's eyes snap to me, but I keep my eyes locked on Donnie, trying to get a read on him. Looking at Elise, he smirks, chewing his jellybeans like a cow with its cud as he grins smugly. "I suspected there was more, that you were holding out on me. So I assigned my favorite reporter to investigate."

I let my eyes tick up to Francesca, remembering how we'd run into her at brunch. I’d dismissed it to reassure Elise, but it hadn't been a coincidence at all.

For her part, Francesca adjusts herself self-righteously, like the cat who just got the cream. She even seems to preen a bit as she re-crosses her legs, an obviously practiced move designed to look sexy.

I look back to find Donnie still eyeing Elise with a leering appraisal. "You're quite good at following a mark, Elise,” he continues, his jaws never stopping as he smacks his way through another candy. “Seems you're quite a bit less adept at being followed. Usually, you never even noticed."

Donnie smiles at Elise like she's prey he's preparing to devour, but even though he's insulting her, I’m the real target here. I know that with every bit of dread running through my blood right now. My fingers tighten on the arms of the chair, and it’s only thirty years of self-control that prevent me from grabbing him and jacking him up right now.

Francesca interrupts, puffing up even more as she giggles, but the sound is more mean-girl than sweet. "You really should be more aware. I followed you for days . . . to Keith's, to the cabin, to dinner, to the mall. The cabin was a little hard, but nothing a good telephoto lens couldn’t fix. And you never suspected a thing!"

“You backstabbing, dirty little bitch—” Elise says, starting to get up, but Donnie claps, getting our attention again.

"So, as Francesca was following you, looking for the dirt you were supposed to be finding, we discovered something rather interesting. It didn't take long to figure out that you two are sleeping together. A bit salacious to fuck the talent, Elise, and definitely a bit of slumming on your part, Keith."

"Fuck you, you fucking dirt-peddling slimeball,” I growl. “So what if two consenting adults are having sex? Is this what passes as shocking news these days?"

Donnie laughs, looking at me like I'm dense. "Well, it could be a good story. Trust me, as they say, sex sells. But more important is what it led us to discover. It seems that in addition to fucking a tabloid reporter, you seem to be doing it to buy her silence . . . about your twelve-year-old daughter."

I can't stop the growl that tears from the depths of my chest, and I hear Elise gasp next to me. I'd known walking into this tonight that this was probably what was coming, but hearing it straight from this asshole’s mouth is more than I can take. I’m going to tear his heart out and shove a crystal bowl of jellybeans in its place.

"Whatever you think you know, you'd best keep your fucking mouth shut about it," I threaten, my lip curling.

Donnie steeples his fingers, regarding me coolly as he opens a file folder on his desk, spreading out picture after picture, along with detailed reports of our outings. "If I had a dollar for every person who’s threatened to kick my ass over what I find out, I’d be rich enough to get out of this gig and retire,” he says, pushing the photos toward me.

They’re sharp, hi-def, and show a variety of things. Sure, there are a few of me and Elise getting romantic . . . but what’s even more hurtful is me hugging Carsen. Of us at the restaurant. Of me with my little girl. There are others too . . . of Carsen by herself, or with Sarah when she’s getting picked up. “There are a couple of possibilities here, but what happens is totally up to you."

"What do you want?" I snarl, only the thought of ending up in jail and Child Services taking Carsen away from me keeping me in my chair.

"Well, this can go one of two ways, and I'm being gracious enough to let you choose,” Donnie says greasily. “Option one, you will pay me a half-mil each year that you want this secret to stay quiet. My understanding is that Carsen’s twelve. So probably, you’ll want to wait until she's at least eighteen. So let’s say $3.5million to make it easy?”

“You son of a bitch,” Elise rasps, but Donnie plunges on.

“Option two, I'll publish an exclusive story breaking the news of your secret child and the relationship you had to keep it quiet. Either way, I win. I get money from you directly or I get notoriety for breaking a huge story and make money on clicks and sales. Win-win either way for me."

I'm furious, and it's taking every bit of my control to keep from jumping over this desk and pounding this weasel's face. Elise is mad too, but not nearly as controlled as I am.

She's like a screeching wildcat, vaulting out of her chair to slam her hands down on the desk, sending Donnie’s jellybean bowl tumbling to the carpet where it bounces. "What the fuck, Donnie? You can't go around blackmailing people! You cannot publish this story. She's just a little girl!"

Donnie laughs mockingly, his voice pitching high into a screeching falsetto that’s clearly a mockery of Elise’s voice. "You can't blackmail people! She’s just a little girl!" He laughs again, leaning back in his chair. "Of course I can. You think this is the first story to get squashed this way? If only you knew the celebs and their secrets in my little black book of dirt. So many juicy stories, all ready to be hung out like dirty laundry for everyone to consume. Or, for the right price, washed and sanitized and never to see the light of day. Why the fuck do you think I stick around this shitrag of a ‘news source’ with the shit pay and bennies? I get ten times that off the books. You can help the Save the Donnie Foundation . . . or the world can find out about you. Your choice."

I clench my hands in my lap, trying to get ahold of myself. "I'll sue you and this piece of shit tabloid you're running. I’ll burn this place to the ground and piss on the ashes."

Donnie shrugs, unconcerned. "Go ahead. But since what I'm reporting is the truth, you'll lose. It won't matter by then anyway, because I'll have already published the story and gotten the sales and the money off your secrets. You'll just add fuel to the fire by suing.”

“And in the meantime, I’ll make sure every sleazy paparazzi I know is at your house. They’ll follow Sarah, try to get interviews and pictures with Carsen. What she’s wearing, which boy in school she thinks is cute. Do I need to continue?”

He's right, and I hate that he's thought of this from every fucking angle, obviously experienced at doing this while I’m stumbling. Like he said, this isn't his first round of blackmail, and I bet he’s got a basketball team of lawyers ready to cover his ass.

I feel outplayed. He's planned ahead, and I'm still reeling, hoping this is a nightmare I'll wake up from any minute. All I can think of is kicking Donnie’s ass, and while that might be worth it for a few short seconds, it’ll just land me in a lawsuit. Seeing the resolve on my face, Donnie offers a consolation. "You don't have to decide right now. I suspect getting those kinds of funds prepped is time-consuming, even for someone like you. I'll give you some time to decide. The article is already written, ready to be public with one click if you don't have the money ready to transfer to my account . . . oh, let’s see. Today’s Saturday . . . so how about by five o’clock Monday? Understood?"

I dip my chin once, knowing I'll need to evaluate the risks of this proposition carefully. I’ve got roughly forty-eight hours to figure out what the fuck to do, and I figure I’ll need every minute. “Fine. Elise, let’s go.”

“See you at work Monday morning!” Francesca calls out nastily as we leave the office. We say nothing as we get in the elevator and leave the office.

The truck ride is awkward until Elise breaks the silence, rating. "I can't believe this! I knew Donnie was a sleazeball, but this is beyond what I'd ever imagined."

She’s pissed, which helps, but I’m furious, and my mouth is running away from my brain. "Just like a paparazzi, always looking for juicy gossip even it ruins people's lives."

I see Elise flinch, knowing my comment about Donnie likely hit a little close to home for her too. I clench my teeth, biting back the rest of what I wanted to say as she looks down into her lap, cringing. "I never ruin people's lives,” she says, so quietly I can barely hear her over the noise of my engine. “Just report stupid shit about them. Nothing like this."

"But even that stupid shit hurts people, Elise,” I growl, watching the road ahead. “Even what you think is stupid can be important to others. All of this started because you reported something seemingly inconsequential, but look what's happened. My buying some fucking maxi pads for my little girl’s first period has turned into a $3.5 million blackmail proposition."

She makes a small sound, hurt by my words, but I'm angry, lashing out. "I should've fucking known better,” I mutter, shaking my head as I get off the freeway and head toward my house. “Should've done the fucking articles and sent you on your merry way and you wouldn’t have found out shit. I told myself I wasn't going to get involved while Carsen was young. She's my number-one priority and I let myself get caught up.” I bang a fist to the steering wheel, frustration and anger bubbling past the boiling point in my veins. “I knew better, I fucking knew better.”

"Keith, I'm sorry!” Elise cries out, her voice choked with anguish. “Really, I am. But this isn't my fault. Maybe we should've been more careful, but it was bound to come out eventually. You can't keep her a secret forever!"

"Like hell I can't! I've kept her hidden for ten fucking years!” I half yell, pulling over and glaring at Elise. “We were doing just fine until I thought I could have more, and look what's happened! I hurt the one person I’m supposed to protect!"

Elise blinks, her eyes looking like I just slapped her. Her eyes brim with tears, but she’s too strong to cry, and instead, her face hardens. "I think you should take me home."

"Fine."

Neither of us says anything as I turn at the next light, pulling up to the curb by Elise's apartment five minutes later. She's out before I even put it in park, stomping toward the door, her hurt morphing into fury.

I’m so angry I don’t even watch her go inside, just peeling out from the curb to get away from this nightmare that’s become real. The ride home is maddening, my mind replaying everything Donnie said about my options and then hearing everything Elise and I said when we fought.

Yeah, I know I was in the wrong to say she started it. But I’m not exactly in my right mind. I’m not pissed at her. I’m a grown ass man and it was my decision to let Elise in. I’m just pissed about the situation and that I can’t rewind time and figure out a way out of this.

Getting home, I walk inside and am instantly surrounded by silence. Sarah’s at home, Carsen’s at her sleepover, and Elise . . . isn’t here. I have a momentary thought to have Sarah pick up Carsen early, just to be safe, but I hold off knowing that if her world is about to implode, she deserves one more night of innocent fun.

Sitting on the couch, I put my head in my hands. The quiet void surrounding me echoes the emptiness in my heart, which is quickly filling with anger. Not at Elise, not at myself even, but where it should be directed . . . at Donnie and his scheming. How did this get so fucked up?