Rory

by James, Nicole

  Jameson nodded. “Yeah, sure. We were just heading home. Place is all yours. But first we need to toast to your exciting new future opportunities.” He walked to the sideboard that held a bottle of Irish whiskey and filled five glasses with an inch of the amber liquor.

  The brothers all took one, and Jameson handed one to Ava. He lifted his glass. “To my little brother. He was an irritating little fucker when he was growing up, but he’s good with a guitar, has a decent voice and the girls seem to like his ugly mug”—he laughed—“all the makings of a rock star! Much success, Rory!”

  Liam and Max smiled.

  “Happy for you, brother,” Max said.

  “You’re gonna be a huge star, Rory,” Liam said. “Just don’t forget us peons when you hit the big time.”

  Rory chuckled. “I’ll try not to.”

  They downed their drinks.

  “Now get outta here. I’ve got an album to write.” Rory grinned.

  ***

  The next afternoon, Ava hung up the phone at the front counter of Brothers Ink, practically jumping out of her skin.

  Jameson walked up with a customer. He shook the man’s hand. “One more session, and we’ll be finished.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

  After the guy left, Jameson eyed her. “What are you so excited about?”

  “I found her—well, not her, but the shop!”

  “What are you taking about? Her, who?”

  “Rory’s muse; the girl from his song!”

  “How’d you do that?”

  “I called all over Denver. Do you know how many motorcycle shops and repair shops there are in the Denver area? Almost a hundred!”

  “And you called them all?”

  “Well, no. I hit the jackpot on number sixty-three.”

  “You are unbelievable. Is that what you’ve been doing down here all morning?”

  “Well, when I wasn’t waiting on people, yeah. Plus I had my sister working part of the list, too. Oh, that reminds me I need to call and tell her she can stop.”

  Jameson chuckled at her. “Ya think?”

  “Where’s Rory? I need to tell him.”

  “He’s at the farm, writing. And no you’re not telling him.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Babe, this is his big shot. He can’t go chasing some chick he spent one night with all the way to Denver. He’s got songs to write, and he’s only got a few days before he has to be in LA.”

  “But Jameson—“

  “I mean it, Ava. Not a word about this. I’m just looking out for him.”

  Max walked up and folded his arms. “Jameson, he has a right to know.”

  Jameson turned to him. “Are you eavesdropping? I’m talking to my wife.”

  “Jamie, come on. She should tell him.”

  “No, she shouldn’t. She does, he’ll drop everything and take off for Denver. You know he will. Then what happens? I’ll tell you what. He goes out to LA with no new material and they give him some songs that aren’t the right fit for him, that aren’t him at all, and he’s pissed at himself and resentful. Who does that serve? If this girl is important, he’ll find her himself, but it won’t be today or this week, understood?”

  “You’re making a mistake.” Max shook his head and walked away.

  Jameson looked back at Ava. “You with me on this?”

  She nodded. “If you think it’s best.”

  “I’m only thinking of his future.”

  “So was I.”

  “You think this girl is gonna end up being his one true love, babe, but you’re a romantic. She probably isn’t the one. What are the odds?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  September—

  Rayne sat in the small office of Connor Motor Works, going over a parts order. She double-checked and submitted it. Leaning her head in her hand, she yawned. Computer work was enough to put her to sleep, something she didn’t seem to be getting enough of these days. She was always tired. Luckily it was almost closing time. She was so thankful that on Mondays and Tuesdays they closed up at 5:30pm rather than the 9:00pm they stayed open to on most nights.

  Her eyes drifted shut. She’d just rest them for a moment before she started in on payroll.

  “You look exhausted.”

  Her eyes popped open and she glanced at the door, straightening. Charlie stood there, smiling. “Sorry. Computer work does it to me every time.”

  “Why don’t you knock off and go on home for the day? We’ve only got another hour.”

  “Can’t. If you want to get your paycheck Friday, I’ve got to get payroll submitted by five.”

  “I’ll take care of it. I’ve done it before.”

  “I know, but you have your own stuff to do.”

  “Everything is done.”

  “Are you sure, Charlie?”

  “Go.”

  She got up, stretching. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow. And thanks.”

  “Anytime, beautiful.”

  Ten minutes later, Rayne was in her car, stopped at a stop light, when a song came on the radio.

  “This one is tearing up the charts,” the DJ said. “It’s called A Song for Rayne.”

  A moment later, she heard the song she’d seen on YouTube. Only this time it was an actual studio recording with backup musicians.

  She covered her mouth. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God!”

  Again she was struck by how personal the lyrics were.

  Her heart pounded in her chest, and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Was this what having a panic attack felt like? She tried to slow and deepen her breathing until she felt calm. Her eyes filled with tears and a moment later, they spilled down her cheeks. What the hell was wrong with her? It was just a song. Just a stupid, stupid song.

  When the light changed, she turned at the corner and headed to Carmen’s house. She was the only one of her girl-pack Rayne knew would be home because Carmen cut hair out of a small salon she’d set up in her house.

  Rayne drove across town and pulled in the driveway.

  A moment later she was banging on the screen door. She spotted Carmen walking from the back of the house.

  She opened the heavy glass door with a frown. “Rayne, what are you doing here? I thought the shop didn’t close until later.”

  Rayne didn’t wait to be let in; she yanked the screen door open and ran down the hall toward the bathroom, barely making it in time before she vomited in the toilet.

  Carmen appeared in the doorway. “Honey, are you okay?”

  Rayne tried to nod, her head still suspended over the bowl, not sure if more wasn’t coming.

  Carmen grabbed a washcloth, wet it, and handed it to her. “Here, sweetie.”

  Rayne wiped her face and mouth and felt better. She plopped on the floor next to the toilet with her back to the wall and looked up at Carmen. “I think I’m pregnant.”

  Carmen’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  Rayne burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.

  “Oh, baby,” Carmen whispered, sitting next to Rayne and pulling her into her arms. “It’s going to be okay. Everything will be fine. Don’t cry.”

  Rayne dropped her hands from her face and pinned Carmen with her eyes. “How can you say that? Everything is not fine!”

  “Why do you think you’re pregnant? Did you take a test?”

  “No, but I’m tired all the time and that’s the fifth time this week I’ve felt nauseous.”

  “But that could just be stomach flu—”

  “And I’m a week late.”

  “Oh.”

  They stared at each other.

  “Still, I’m sure it’s fine.” Carmen tried to put on a cheerful face. “Sasha is on her way over here. I’ll have her stop and get a pregnancy test. Then we’ll know for sure.” She pulled her cell out, her thumb moving over the screen.

  Twenty minutes later, the three girls stood staring down at the pee stick.

  “Yup.
You’re pregnant all right,” Sasha said, and Rayne burst into tears.

  “Is it that guy, Rory’s?” Carmen asked.

  Rayne nodded. “He’s the only one I’ve been with. I haven’t had sex since before Daniel got sick.”

  Sasha slumped her shoulders. “Shit. I feel responsible. I practically served you to him on a platter. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to have some fun. After all the stress you’d been under with caring for Daniel…”

  “I know, Sasha. I don’t blame you. It was my choice. No one forced me to do anything that night.”

  “Well, it takes two to have a baby. He has to bear some responsibility,” Carmen advised.

  “What do you want to do?” Sasha asked.

  Rayne cried even harder. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you have to tell him,” Carmen stated.

  “She doesn’t have to do anything.” Sasha glared at Carmen.

  “I just mean he has a right to know.”

  Rayne wiped her eyes. “Did you hear his song? It’s on the radio now.”

  Sasha frowned. “What? You’re kidding?”

  “I heard it on the way over. The DJ said it’s climbing the charts.” She drew in a shaky breath and wiped her face with the wet washcloth. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Rayne, everything is going to be all right. If you want to have this baby, I think you’ll make a wonderful mother,” Carmen said.

  “She just got her freedom again after caring for Daniel. Maybe she doesn’t want to be tied down with a kid,” Sasha argued.

  Rayne sobbed again, covering her mouth with the cloth.

  “You’re upsetting her,” Carmen told Sasha and wrapped her arms around her again.

  “Me? How about you?”

  “Both of you stop. I have to figure this out. Oh, my God. Everyone will know… all the guys at the shop…”

  “We won’t tell them,” Sasha promised.

  “Eventually they’re gonna know… I’m going to start to show.”

  Sasha’s cell went off and she looked down at it. “It’s Jenna.” She answered. “Yeah?”

  Carmen put her arm around Rayne and led her out of the bathroom and down the hall to the living room. “Let’s sit, and we’ll figure this out. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  A moment later Sasha came into the room. “Where’s the remote?”

  Carmen pointed to the coffee table. “Right there. Why?”

  Sasha snatched it up and pointed it at the television and clicked to a channel that had an entertainment show airing.

  “What are you doing?” Carmen asked.

  “Jenna said Rory is being interviewed.”

  They watched a pretty blonde talking with Rory.

  “Well, Rory, the single is definitely taking off, and when the album drops, I’m sure it’ll be huge.”

  “Thank you, Robin.”

  “And if anyone watching wants to catch him live, he’s the new opening act for the balance of Charlotte Justice’s Revolution Tour. This is Robin Andrews live at the Las Vegas stop of the tour with Rory O’Rourke. Peter, back to you.”

  They cut away to a host in studio.

  Sasha muted the TV and turned to look at Rayne. “Well, we know where he is, and it’s not at that tattoo shop in Grand Junction. He’s never tried to contact you?”

  She shook her head, looking at her lap and twisting her hands. “No.”

  “The jerk,” Sasha muttered.

  “But that’s what doesn’t make sense. He didn’t seem like a jerk. He seemed like a nice guy.”

  “You need to tell him about the pregnancy,” Carmen insisted again.

  “Carmen!” Sasha huffed.

  “No, I mean it. She’ll regret it if she doesn’t.”

  Sasha lifted her arm toward the TV. “And how’s she supposed to do that? Go to his next concert and hold up a sign from the audience? She’ll never even get close to him.”

  Carmen looked at Rayne. “She could go to Brothers Ink.”

  Rayne shook her head. “I’m not going there. Are you kidding? He makes it big, and I suddenly show up claiming to be having his baby? They’d laugh in my face.”

  “You don’t know that. They seemed like nice guys.”

  “It would be humiliating.”

  “You could call, try to get his number.”

  “He’s a rising star; you really think they’re going to give out his cell phone number?”

  “Well, there has to be a way!”

  Rayne rubbed her thigh, thinking. She supposed what Carmen said was true; he had a right to know. “Maybe I could write a letter and send it to him there.”

  Carmen nodded. “If that’s what you’re comfortable with.”

  Rayne glared at her. “But if he still doesn’t get in touch with me, I’m not going to beg him to be a part of this. Understand?”

  “Of course.”

  “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind. You’re going to have the baby, aren’t you?” Sasha asked.

  She was, she realized. After losing Daniel, she wanted this baby. Maybe it was a shock and not the best timing. Okay the worst timing, but she would love this baby so much.

  “You need to see a doctor, get on prenatal vitamins and all that,” Sasha said.

  “We’ll go with you. We’ll be here for you every step,” Carmen promised.

  “Hell, I’ll even be your Lamaze coach or whatever,” Sasha conceded with a wave of her hand.

  Rayne opened her arms to her friends, and they moved in for a hug. “I love you guys.”

  ***

  That night, Rayne lay in bed, rubbing her still flat stomach and thinking about the fact that there was a life growing inside her. It was a lot to come to terms with. She wanted the best for her child, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the baby would have a father in his or her life.

  At that thought, Rayne bit her lip. She needed to write that letter. She rolled over and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the nightstand.

  She wrote, scratched out, ripped off the paper and crumpled it up, then wrote again. Finally after several attempts, she decided to just be straightforward and concise.

  Rory—

  I don’t know if you remember me, but we sang karaoke and spent the night together in Vail. You took my number, but I never heard from you. I understand if you don’t want to pursue a relationship, that’s fine, but there’s something that you need to know.

  I’ve found out I’m pregnant. I’ve only been with you, so you’re the lucky winner of the father lottery. If you don’t want anything to do with your child’s life, that is fine with me. I’m only telling you because you have a right to know, and it isn’t something I want to keep from you.

  Also, I heard the song you wrote. I can’t believe you took my life story and my pain and put it in a song, and now I have to hear it on the radio. I think you could have asked, or at least told me you were going to do that, rather than just let me hear it unprepared.

  You don’t seem to be the man I thought you were that night we spent together. You even lied about what you did for a living. I had no idea you were in a band. You told me Convicted Chrome was an auto body shop. I guess I must seem like a gullible fool to you.

  As I write this, I know I need to mail it, but in truth, I’m not sure I want you in my or this child’s life.

  Rayne Connor

  She folded it and stuffed it in an envelope so she could mail it tomorrow.

  She pulled her phone out and watched a video of them singing Shallow together that Sasha had taken that night in Vail.

  Then she put her head down and cried into her pillow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rory played the last rift of the last song of his set and took a bow. The crowd cheered, and the girls up front screamed. The spotlight went out, and he walked off stage, slipping the strap of his guitar over his head and handing the instrument to one of the techs who took care of the equipment. Stagehands were already scurrying to rearrange for the hea
dliner, Charlotte Justice.

  He was tossed a towel by another crewmember, and wiped his face as he moved off down the tight hall to the tiny dressing room he’d been given. It was weird not sharing it with three other band mates. The musicians he’d just played with on stage were mostly just paid sessions musicians.

  Rory grabbed a bottle of water from the tray of refreshments provided and guzzled it down, then collapsed on the small couch. He’d only been on the road with Charlotte as the opener for three weeks, but it was still a surreal life. Being the lead singer on stage was thrilling, exhilarating, and terrifying all at once. The success was his for the taking, but if the songs fell flat it would all be on him, too. He was finding it was a lot to carry the weight of that responsibility on his shoulders.

  The door opened, and Lou walked in, closing it behind him. He leaned one hand on the knob. “Just found out you’re losing your bassist—some emergency with his wife. He’s flying out tonight. I’m trying to find someone to fill in.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care. I have a bassist to replace.”

  Rory stared at him a moment. “I may know someone.”

  “Yeah, who’s that?”

  “Tommy Ryland from Convicted Chrome.”

  Lou looked down, laughed and shook his head. “Wouldn’t be much left of that band, would there?”

  “I doubt you’re worried about that.”

  Lou met his eyes. “You’re right.” He opened the door. “Call him. Let me know if it works out. If not, I’ll need to make other arrangements.”

  Rory stared at Lou’s back as he walked out, questioning if the man cared about anyone or anything for that matter, except his bank account.

  His gaze shifted to the floor. Would Tommy do it? Would he leave the band to follow him on this crazy ride? Only one way to find out. He headed out to the tour bus to make the call.

  As Rory walked outside, the heat hit him in the face. He loved Vegas, but it was hot as a furnace, the heat lingering even into the darkness of night. Rory walked to the bus and climbed aboard. The new bus Lou had gotten for him was in no way as nice as Charlotte’s, but it was a huge step up from the bus they’d provided for Convicted Chrome.