by CL Rowell
“Julie.”
I looked down. I blinked, and looked again. “Oh, my god…Phillip?” He was on one knee in front of me, the ring from my dessert in his hand. My heart galloped in my chest, sending the blood flying through my veins until I thought I’d pass out.
“I know it hasn’t been very long,” he murmured, looking at me like I was the only girl in the room. “But, sometimes, you just know. You stole my heart in New Orleans. I haven’t thought of anything but you since that night. I love you more than I thought I’d ever love anyone.”
“I love you, too,” I whispered, “So much.”
“It doesn’t have to be tomorrow, or next month, or even a year from now—I’ll wait until you’re ready, whenever that might be, but…Julie Ryan, will you do me the honor of agreeing to be my wife? Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” I fell into his arms, happy tears trickling down my beaming cheeks. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”
The pop of a champagne cork caught my attention and I pulled away, to find a grinning waiter topping off crystal flutes with bubbly champagne.
“Compliments of the house in celebration of your engagement and upcoming nuptials,” he assured us.
“Thank you.” I held out my hand so Phillip could slide the beautiful diamond solitaire ring onto my finger and accepted a glass of champagne. Dazed, I looked around at all of the grinning, clapping diners, unable to believe it was really happening.
7
*
My head was still in the clouds in Houston. Not wanting to stray too far from my fiancé—I love that word—I placed my chair at the back of the stage, behind Phillip and Leo, and sneaked kisses after every song. We were halfway through the show, and I was anticipating the luxury of a hot shower and a kingsize bed, when a commotion caught my attention. Someone was crowdsurfing. Having never seen it done in real life, outside of TV, I watched, fascinated, figuring it was just a groupie trying to get closer to Jessie or Leo. It wasn’t.
“Callie.” Jessie’s voice broke, and my heart ached in empathy. I imagined Phillip putting me through what she was putting Jessie through, and part of me wanted to hate her.
“Jessie…hi. You’re looking good.” I could see the hunger written on her face, plain as day, and my wish to hate her subsided. It was obvious to me that she loved him and was hurting. Could he see it, too?
“You do, too.” He knelt down and I gritted my teeth as they exchanged smalltalk. “So, how are you? How long are you here for?”
“Actually, I was just leaving. I just popped in to see you in action.”
Leaving? I took a step forward, determined to give her a piece of my mind—but Leo grabbed my arm.
He shook his head and hissed, “Let them handle it. It’s not our business.”
“But—“ I beseeched Phillip, hoping he’d take my side.
“Not your circus, not your monkeys.”
Jessie’s voice caught my attention. “I wish you’d stay. We need to talk.”
Yes! Say yes! My head ached with the intensity I was projecting my thoughts.
“Stay! Stay! Stay!” the crowd roared.
He smiled, shaking the mic he held in his hand, “Oops, they heard me. Looks like they want you to stay, too.” Looking around, he asked, speaking into the mic, “Someone know where we might find a chair?” And just like that, she was on the stage, standing by his side. Grinning down at her, he asked, “Where would you like to sit?”
She pointed off to the side of the stage, at a shadow-filled area near one of the bigger speakers. “There is fine.”
I was thrilled, imagining the fun we could have, traveling with the guys from city to city. Suddenly, I had a whole new reason to want the show to end. After a few songs, I could no longer contain my excitement. Slipping away from my hiding spot, I waved my arms over my head to get her attention, not caring if anyone else saw me. My arms grew tired, heavy—then, finally! Recognition.
I waved, and she lifted her hand to respond, hesitated and pointed at her other hand, instead, confusion furrowing her brows. The shock on her face spoke volumes—but about what? I glanced down, and saw it. My ring! It was sparkling like fireworks on Independence Day.
Laughing, I pointed at Phillip and mouthed I’m getting married! When she jumped to her feet, I was sure she was coming across the stage to congratulate me, and I hoped the guys wouldn’t be too upset over it. Then I noticed the tears—the look of betrayal. And I saw the resignation on Jessie’s face, right before she turned to run. I felt sick. She thought I said I was engaged to him—it was written all over her face.
“Callie, no!” I took off, but I barely took two steps and I came to a screeching halt, my head on fire. “What the everliving fuck?”
Spinning, I realized the reason for my pain. Leo gripped my hair in one powerful hand. At the same time, I realized something else—his other hand was buried in Phillip’s ebony curls, holding him off as he swung wildly.
“Let her go, you sorry fucker. You wanna hurt my girl? I’ll kick your goddamn ass.”
“Phillip!” I reached out, rubbing his shoulder and coming perilously close to getting slugged in the process. Still, I persisted, “Phillip, baby, I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m not hurt. Ow! Would you stop fucking swinging for five seconds, and listen to me? I said I’m not hurt!”
I could see the cloud of fury dissipate. Blinking, his eyelids fluttering, he focused on me. “He didn’t hurt you?”
“He didn’t hurt me.”
He eyed my hair, still gripped in Leo’s fist. “But—“
“Leo? If you don’t mind, could you turn loose?”
“Wha—? Oh!” As if just realizing he’d never let go, he opened his hand. A tide of red suffusing his cheeks and he muttered, “Sorry.”
I grimaced, “I would say no harm, but dude, I’m pretty sure my hair is a couple inches longer—which means my roots are, too. You totally owe me a salon touch up. It won’t be cheap.”
He sighed, sounding like it came from the bottoms of his feet. “Fine. Call your fiancé off, before I accidentally hurt him?”
“Is he—?” I peeked at the end of his other arm, and growled, “Phillip…” As he finger combed his curls and Leo worked the feeling back into his hand, I glanced around. “Where’s Jessie?”
“He took off after that Callie chick,” a pretty blond offered from where she lay sprawled across the edge of the stage. “Does this mean the show’s over?”
“It was practically over, anyway,” Leo offered, speaking at her impressive cleavage, barely contained in a flimsy halter top that was seriously at odds with the wet evening. “We had one more song planned, and then this happened—so yeah, I think I can safely say and that’s a wrap.”
“You up for a little fun?” She bit her lip, brushing her fingers across nipples the size of erasers before sliding them south in obvious invitation.
Temptation filled his eyes, but he shook his head. “I would, but I’m bunking with Jessie, and after this—“ He opened his arms, indicating he meant the earlier excitement they’d witnessed, “He’s gonna need a shoulder.”
“Lucky you, I have two open shoulders.” She wiggled. “I’ve always wanted to take on two hotties at once…”
“No, thanks.” Jessie stomped across the stage, pain and anger vying for dominance in his face. Ripping the mic from its stand, he said two words before dropping it to the floor and stomping toward the dressing rooms. “Show’s over.”
Hurrying over, I scooped it up. “Thanks for coming. Jessie, Leo and Phillip love seeing your faces in the audience. Call a taxi, if you need one—don’t drink and drive, and y’all be safe. God bless.” Shaking like a leaf, I replaced it in the stand, grabbed Phillip’s hand, and followed Jessie toward the back.
“Brilliant idea!” Phillip squeezed me close. “I smell a backup singer in the making.”
“Nah, that’s just your sweaty pitts.” I swallowed hard, hoping the contents of my stomach would stay where they were. “I don’t know how y�
�all do it, cuz I was terrified. I’m not cut out to be a rock star. I’ll just be the arm candy from now on.”
8
*
I drove the bus the next morning. Leo and Jessie were both too hungover, and Phillip refuses to drive anything bigger than a pickup truck. The guys ragged him about it, but I think it’s adorable. He’s so strong in many ways, but the thought of driving something so large makes him nervous. It melts my heart.
As I stared at the asphalt looping endlessly before me, I listened to them grumble and rant about Callie’s behavior in a similar fashion in the background. It didn’t take long before I grew tired of it, found a decent radio station, and turned the volume on the stereo high enough to drown them out. I had the pedal pinned to the floor, jamming to an old Prince song, singing at the top of my lungs just like I do in my Bug. That lasted all of maybe thirty seconds, though. Leo nearly ripped the knob off, killing the power, before stomping to the rear, cradling his head in both hands. Still, I got what I wanted. Without Leo’s two cents, the conversation died a quick death.
I felt my phone vibrate against my inner thigh, a couple hours from the RV park Jessie chose to while away the days before our next show in Ft. Worth, but I didn’t give it much thought. All of my concentration was needed just to steer and keep the behemoth between the lines as traffic picked up around me. Even after we stopped and got settled in, I was kept busy with a store run, replenishing our supplies. As a result, it was nearly bedtime when I remembered to look, and saw a Facebook message from someone called Lucy. I almost deleted the whole thing, figuring it was yet another fan who would die if they didn’t meet Jessie. Almost. One word jumped out at me before I could—Callie.
You don’t know me, and I don’t know you…but you do know my best friend. Her name is Callie Rhodes. She sold you my ticket so you could see Jessie Robertson in concert in New Orleans. You saw her again last night, in Houston. When she came home, she was a total wreck. I need to reach Jessie, and you’re the only one who can make it happen. Please give him my number…Lucy.
I dissected the message for hidden clues, reading and rereading it over and over. She was a wreck? Well, what about Jessie? I studied him over the top of my phone. He’d spent the majority of the day nursing a sick stomach and a sore head, only recently looking like he might survive the Irish car bombs he and Leo had tossed back like water after the show. I felt torn in half, considering both of them my friends. What was the right thing to do?
Deciding to let him make the call, I lowered my phone. “Jessie?”
“Yeah.”
“I received a message from a girl named Lucy, earlier.”
“And?” He shrugged. “I don’t know anybody named Lucy. What’s she want?”
“She’s Callie’s best frie—“
“No!” Leo slapped the arm of the couch. “Not just no, but hell fucking no. That crazy little bitch has had plenty of chances with my brother. You saw him, last night—and today.”
“Today was your fault. You bought the ingredients for the Irish car bombs.”
“Yeah, well…he needed it. He needed it because of her. Fuck no, don’t you do it, Jessie. Don’t you dare.”
“Leo—“
“No. You can have any bitch you want—any bitch you want!”
“I want her.”
“Fuck—man!” Jumping to his feet, Leo stalked to the back and climbed into his bunk. “Do whatever the hell you want. You’re going to, anyway. I don’t give a flying fuck. Just don’t come crying to me.”
I gave him the number and forgot all about it until a few days before Christmas.
Jessie coughed, clearing his throat. “How would you guys feel about playing New Year’s Eve at the little bar where I got my big break?”
Leo looked up from his Switch screen, suspicious. “You’ve said, on several different occasions, that it’d be a cold day in Hell before you’d go back to that place. What’s changed?”
“Callie lives somewhere around there.” Jessie’s face lit up and his eyes twinkled, rivaling our tiny Christmas tree. “Lucy agreed to bring her up there, so I intend to confront her on her turf, settling shit once and for all.”
“Man, you’re still mooning over her? Am I the only one who can see through this chick? She’s just screwing with your head—playing games.” He lowered his eyes back to the screen, mumbling about distractions getting him killed as he did.
Jessie snickered. “Like Ramona did you? She turned you into a cynical, untrusting player, didn’t she? You judge every girl you meet on one girl’s actions. You’re gonna die all alone, a lonely old man, because of her.”
“Ramona didn’t do squat.” Leo scowled, tossing the controller aside and crossing his arms. “I’m the same guy I’ve always been. Nothing’s changed.”
“Yup, except that now, you don’t let anyone close enough to touch your heart. You dip your wick and scoot, afraid you might catch feelings.”
“My dick ain’t that long, jackass,” he grumbled. “What you talking about—not letting anyone close? Can’t get no closer than when you’re fucking. You’re talking out your ass.” He snatched the controller up again. “That’s what you’re doing…trying to distract me from the facts, and the facts are that you’re still chasing after Callie even after all the shit she’s put you through.”
“So, all women are the same?”
“Yes, they are.” He returned to his game.
“Hey!” I narrowed my eyes. “I resent that remark.”
“I didn’t mean you, Julie.” He flushed red from his collar to his hairline, and tried to hide behind the game in his hands. “You’re one in a billion. Phillip hit the jackpot when he hooked up with you. Not all of us can be so lucky, though.”
I smiled at him—an evil twist of the lips, “There are plenty of nice girls out there, and I can’t wait until you meet your match, Leo. It’ll be a blast, watching you eat your words.”
“Don’t jinx me. Phillip—”
“Don’t drag me into this shit. You got yourself into it and you can get yourself back out. Just agree to Jessie’s idea and I’m sure she’ll leave you alone.”
He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Fine! I’ll shut up. We can play the hole in the wall in BFE Louisiana so Jessie can get his fix. Just quit it with the crazy eyes and even crazier talk. Deal?”
“Deal.” I giggled. He was so easy.
The days flew by. I spent the majority of my time coordinating things between Lucy and Jessie, wanting to make sure everything went smoothly. Between that and taking care of the bus and the guys, I barely had enough time to think, but I preferred it that way. Because the closer we got to New Year’s Eve, one thing weighed heavy on my mind, and I didn’t know what to do about it. It was a comment in one of Lucy’s texts that broke my heart.
That night when Callie took off…she was positive you said you were engaged to Jessie. It wasn’t until I showed her your photo with Phillip that she realized she’d misunderstood.
So, ultimately, Jessie and Callie’s continued separation is my fault. Phillip disagrees and, after a few hours’ consideration, Jessie sided with him. They claim she jumped to conclusions—that she should have known better. And I agree—but, if I’m honest, I probably would have reacted the same in her shoes, so it doesn’t make it any less true. If I’d just waited, like Leo suggested, things would be so different today.
9
*
Where can you hide a bus in backwoods Louisiana? It was the one question we never thought of until we were there—and it was a big one. Luckily, the answer was easier than you’d think. The Bayou Moon Motel and Cafe had a small gravel and dirt lot out back for truckers. Since we were renting three rooms from her, the lady behind the desk suggested it as a parking option. Problem solved.
Once it was time to go, I drove the half mile to Bartholomew’s. I was still nervous, but the damage had been done—on both sides. After a few drinks for courage, my nerves had vanished, and buzzed me was a bit miffed
.
“Here they come,” Phillip hissed, shooting me a stern look. “Try to behave.”
“Callie!” The crowd shouted, exactly the way they’d been coached. Her eyes looked too big for her face, and I felt for her, but before I could go to her, Phillip grabbed my hand, threading his fingers between mine.
“I was just—“
“I know.” He nodded, “But this is Jessie’s night. Let him lead.”
We watched a commotion between Callie and an older woman, and I was sure it was going to end in a girl fight. The owner seemed to agree, and was prepared to escort the troublemaker out when Callie proved to be the bigger person and agreed to let her stay. I would have let them throw the mouthy cow out, and by then, I was dying to rush over. But before I could protest again, Callie turned to a beautiful black girl.
“Lucy? What was she talking about? Won’t say anything about what? Is there something you forgot to tell me? Like why I’m the guest of honor at a New Year’s Eve party at a bar I never go to? What’s going on? What all haven’t you told me?”
“I think this is where I come in.” Jessie stepped forward.
She spun in place, nearly falling on her ass when—to my area relief—he grabbed her just in time.
“Jessie! What are you doing here?”
“I was invited.” He lifted his chin, glancing behind her, “Lucy messaged Julie, explaining who she was, and asking her to give me her number.”
She turned to face the other girl, her anger more than obvious. “Lucy? You didn’t say anything to me about this. You didn’t think it was something you might possibly mention in passing…or drop into casual conversation? Oh hey, by the way—blah blah blah?”
“You were in so much pain. I didn’t want to make it worse…but you needed answers.” She dropped her gaze, uncomfortable but standing her ground. “So I messaged her. I admit it, I did it. But, like I said before…you go to the horse if you want the answer.”
