by Caisey Quinn
His eyes widen when he sees me already seated next to him. “Jesus, Dixie. Give a guy a heart attack.”
I can’t help but grin. “My bad.”
“You didn’t want to stay? Watch your boy play before your big date?”
I lift an eyebrow that he doesn’t turn to see while he cranks the engine. “I didn’t realize I had a boy. Or a big date.”
“Tate seems pretty persistent. And honestly, maybe he’s the one you should be—”
“Be what, Gavin? Interested in? Attracted to?” Okay, now I actually am annoyed. This conversation just took a left turn right into Piss Me Off Town. “Because I can honestly say, I like Afton. I do. He’s a nice guy and someone I could learn a lot from and would like to be friends with. But my friendship with him has very little, no, wait, nothing to do with our . . . arrangement.”
With a shake of his head, Gavin drives into the back parking lot of the hotel. “I was going to say, maybe he’s the one you should spend this evening with and let me make the trip to Potter County on my own.”
Oh God. My entire body heats from the inside out. “I see. Well, about that. I have a plan.”
“You and your plans,” Gavin mutters under his breath. I ignore him and continue.
“So Crave is a sushi place, I think. I’m going to leave early, say I’m not feeling well. Then I’ll text Dallas and tell him I can’t make rehearsal tomorrow because I have food poisoning and I want to rest up for the show.”
Gavin parks the van and shuts the engine off. “I don’t quite get how fake food poisoning helps me—us.”
I try not to grin like a crazed psychopath at hearing him include me. “It buys us time, Gav. So we don’t have to be back until sound check tomorrow. You can text him that you’re holding my hair back all day. Making sure I’m drinking plenty of fluids or whatever. It will free him up to be with his lady friend and we won’t have to break the speed limit and risk getting a ticket in every town between here and Amarillo.”
My smile is smug because I can tell he’s impressed. There’s no denying I’m feeling pretty proud of myself for thinking so quickly on my feet.
“You always think of everything.” He sighs and leans toward me until I shift in my seat. “But baby, I have news for you.”
My eyebrows are probably in my hairline as I stare openly at his handsome face, surprised at how close he is. “And what’s that?”
He leans even closer to me and my lips begin to tingle in anticipation. My hands clutch the weathered leather upholstery of my seat to keep from reaching out and grabbing his face and dragging his mouth to mine.
“There are some things you can’t control, can’t plan for.”
I fold my arms over my chest in an attempt to hide the serious effort I’m making to breathe while this close to him. “Such as?”
Amusement slides across his features as he licks his lips but it is almost immediately replaced with a scowl.
“Nothing. Forget it.” Pulling back from our intimate moment, he extracts himself roughly from the van and slams the door, causing me to jump.
What the hell?
I follow his lead and practically tear the door off the hinges as I make my escape. “I’m sorry,” I call out sarcastically to his back. “Was I supposed to take a mind-reading class at some point? Because I must have skipped that one.”
“Just go on your damn date, Dixie. I can handle this shit on my own.” I’m gaining on him, close enough to hear when he mumbles “been doing it my whole life” under his breath.
“Just because you can and you have doesn’t mean you should. You shouldn’t have to be alone in this. You aren’t alone.”
He ignores me and continues walking toward the side entrance to the hotel, pulling out his key card to open the door as if he didn’t hear me.
“Damn you, Gavin Garrison. Wait a second.” I reach him just as he pulls the door open. “You know you don’t have to do this alone. Dallas will even come along if you want him to. In a heartbeat.”
Turning, he gives me his broodiest squint-eyed glare. “I know that. I also know that if he knew what my intentions for tomorrow night were, he’d probably kick my ass and kick me right out of the band.” Raking a hand hard through his hair in a way that makes me ache to do the same, he frowns at me. “Look, there’s just a lot of shit I have to deal with. And honestly, I’m used to dealing with it alone. I like dealing with it alone. It’s no one’s problem but mine. I’m leaving in a few minutes. I appreciate the offer, I do. But honestly, I got this.”
Giving up on reasoning with him, I reach out and grip his arm with my hand. Holy muscle. I swallow hard and ignore the urge to run my hands up his arms and across his chest, because now is so not the time.
“If nothing else, you’re my friend. And I like to think I’m yours. Friends are there for each other when shit goes sideways. I want to go. The sushi excuse will give you more time to get back tomorrow.” I shove my pride down my throat and resort to begging when his cold stare meets my pleading one. “Wait for me tonight, Gavin. Please?”
He glances at my hand on his arm, then back to my face. “Why? Why do you want to tag along on the road trip from hell? This isn’t going to be beef jerky and Big Gulps and mixtapes, Bluebird.” So gently it breaks my heart, he removes my hand from his arm.
Because I want to be where you are. Because I want to protect you from her. Because I won’t be able to sleep or think a coherent thought until you’re back safe and sound. Because when you leave, it’s like you take my soul with you. Because it hurts like hell when we’re apart.
I can’t say any of the actual reasons and I can’t lie to his face, so I tell a half-truth.
“Because I want to check on Papa. Even if it’s just long enough to give him a quick hug and remind him to take his pills.”
Gavin frowns, but finally relents. “I can’t guarantee there will be time for that, but we can try. I’m leaving at midnight. With you or without you. That will put me there as soon as the jail opens so I can pay her bail and get her home in time to get back here for sound check.”
“Midnight. Got it. I’ll be here.”
“Don’t waste time coming back here. I’ll be outside of Crave. But I’m not messing around. Midnight.”
“Yes, fairy godmother. Midnight or I turn into a pumpkin.”
“Yeah, okay.” He scratches his head and looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind, then goes inside.
Gavin probably doesn’t know about Cinderella. Not all the specifics, anyway. I don’t know why I thought he would, other than I assume every child would have at some point. But no one ever would’ve read it to him or taken him to see the movie. He probably doesn’t know many fairy tales. How this has escaped me all these years is beyond me. I add reading him the best of the Brothers Grimm and a Disney movie marathon to my list of things to do.
Chapter 15
AFTON TEXTS ME AT A QUARTER TO ELEVEN TO LET ME KNOW HIS show has ended and he’s heading over to pick me up for the party.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror and hold my hair up with one hand, trying to decide if up or down is the way to go. I paired my favorite black leather secondhand McQueens with the nicest thing I own, a short red halter dress I wore to my senior homecoming dance. Up seems more sophisticated so I grab a few bobby pins and tuck them tightly into my updo. Smearing on some red lip stain and applying a thick coat of mascara, I notice that my hands are trembling. I don’t know if I’m nervous about this party with Afton or what’s coming after—lying to Dallas, leaving with Gavin.
What if he leaves without me?
Fighting off a panic attack and the urge to text Afton and tell him I can’t make it, I toss a change of clothes, my toothbrush, and clean underwear into my black faux leather shoulder bag. A bag of plain potato chips and a granola bar from the vending machine are on the small desk in my room so I toss those in too for good measure.
I can only imagine what Afton would think if he glimpsed the contents of my purse. Prob
ably that I planned on spending the night with him and possibly that I had low blood sugar. Whatever.
I’m standing outside at the front of the hotel when Afton pulls up in a cab. I don’t know if I was expecting his band’s van or what, but he catches me off guard in his dark blue button-down and black slacks. Cleaned-up Afton looks a lot older and more sophisticated and metropolitan than young, scruffy musician Afton.
“You look nice,” I say as I make my way toward him.
“Thank you. You look . . . hazardous to my health.”
I can’t help but grin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He doesn’t clarify, just holds the cab door open and climbs in behind me.
“So this party . . . bigwigs, huh?”
He shrugs in the back of the darkened cab as the driver takes off. I figure Afton already gave him our final destination. “Sort of. It’s a small gathering. A record label executive interested in All Grown Up invited me. Probably just wants to flash his bling and entice me to sign with them.”
“This happen a lot?” I ask while watching the electric rainbow of neon lights blurring by us before returning my attention to him.
“Occasionally.” His eyes slide over me and I feel every place they land. My mouth. My chest. My bare legs.
His attention makes me squirm and I hope he doesn’t notice. “Can I ask why you invited me? Specifically?”
Even with the absence of light, I can tell he’s blushing at being caught ogling me. I’m flattered, but it barely registers over my nerves about tonight.
“Um, honestly, I hate these things. I hate anything social really. It’s awkward as hell and people come up and introduce themselves like you’re supposed to recognize them and give a shit.” He sighs. “God, I sound like a pretentious prick.”
“Nah. Just a slightly antisocial prick.”
He chuckles softly. “It’s just not my scene is all. But I invited you because we had a good time the other night—”
“Despite the awkward ‘it’s not you it’s me’ part,” I interrupt.
“Yes, aside from that,” he agrees with a grin. “But I was hoping to bring someone I actually enjoyed talking to so that this night wouldn’t be an entire waste.”
“Wow. I feel so special. I’ll try to be particularly witty this evening.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.” He winks at me and surprising warmth spreads through me. “If you know any good jokes or how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue, tonight would be an excellent time to showcase those abilities.”
“Good to know,” I say with mock seriousness.
He elbows me lightly in the side. “I promise I’m kidding. But you’ll see, it gets really lame really quick and you start hoping someone chokes on an hors d’oeuvre just to relieve the monotony.”
“So why even go?”
His entire body goes rigid beside me. When he answers, it’s practically through gritted teeth. “Can’t really be avoided. Julian would cut us off if I weren’t at least trying to get officially into the business, so to speak. In his eyes, everything we do is pointless unless we get a major deal with a legit label.”
Sounded a lot like Dallas’s perspective. I could relate. “Julian?”
“Our financial backer. He was sitting up front with me when I drove you to the stage the other night.”
Ah. I’d wondered who that guy was. “I see. So he pulls all the strings?”
“All the ones not attached to instruments, yeah, pretty much.”
Afton’s voice is so much tighter than usual, I search my brain for ways to change the subject but come up empty.
“That seems . . . complicated.”
He sighs. “It can be. He’s also my uncle and pretty much the only person in my family who supports my decision to be a musician—or squander my potential and quash every dream my father has ever had for me, if you ask my parents—so yeah, it gets tense and messy from time to time. But that’s what keeps life interesting, right?”
Thankfully we’ve arrived at the restaurant before I have to answer. Afton pays the cabdriver, tipping way more than I would have, and the man practically leaps out and hurdles the hood in order to open the door for us. He gives Afton a card and tells him he can call him directly and he’ll pick us up when we’re ready.
Stepping aside, I raise my eyebrows at my date. “So this is how the other half lives? Good to know.”
“Other half?” He gives me a questioning smirk and I laugh.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a cabdriver offer to come back and get me. Or open my door. One almost ran me over when I didn’t get out fast enough.”
“You must not have been wearing that dress. Pretty sure that’s why he offered.” Afton winks at me and I shake my head.
Now I’m the one blushing, probably as deeply as the shade of red I’m wearing. He offers his arm and I take it. Walking in the back entrance into a private dining room, I feel a bit like a celebrity. And like a big fat phony. I’m a jeans and Chucks and ponytail walks into a greasy diner kind of girl. Not a designer shoes, sexy dress, updo using a private entrance to a swanky restaurant chick.
Tonight, I think as both my chin and my shoulders lift a bit higher than usual, maybe I’m both.
Immediately upon entering Crave, I find myself in a sleek room with mahogany ceilings, marble floors, and a fireplace in the corner. People of all ages are clustered into groups and scattered around the room.
The conversation is so boisterous and loud it fills the space in the private dining room. Waiters deliver sushi to the people seated at round tables covered in slate-gray material that probably costs more than my dress did its first time around. Afton takes me by the hand and we migrate between the high standing tables where mostly men are drinking liquor in short squat glasses and discussing people by names and labels. I don’t recognize many, but I’d bet a year’s worth of tips that Dallas would.
After my date says a few obligatory hellos and makes the necessary introductions, calling me “the Very Beautiful and Talented Dixie Lark” as if they’re supposed to know or care who I am enough times that I want to jump out one of the ceiling to floor-length windows that make up one wall of the room, we make our way to the bar and Afton orders himself a scotch before turning to me.
“Um, sweet tea is fine.”
He grins. “Trust me, another hour of this and you’re going to wish you’d ordered something much stronger.”
Little does he know, I don’t plan on staying another hour. He orders me a Long Island iced tea instead and I go with it.
Turns out, he was right about things getting pretty bland pretty fast. After hearing him have the same conversation with four different groups of people, I’m ready to tell the bartender to line up shots on the bar and keep them coming.
I sip my second Long Island iced tea and pick at the spicy tuna roll with my chopsticks. Thank goodness I have a toothbrush in my bag. Several times throughout the evening I check my phone, as if I expect Gavin to be texting me a countdown. T-minus twenty-six minutes until Operation Free Deadbeat Mom commences.
He doesn’t, and I’m annoyed at myself for expecting him to and being disappointed. That’s not his style and he made it clear this wasn’t something he wanted me along for.
Hope is a funny thing, though. It continues to build in my chest even after being deflated time and time again. So maybe it’s a stupid brain-dead thing that refuses to learn from experience.
At a quarter to midnight, I excuse myself to the ladies’ room to empty my bladder and brush my teeth before the top-secret road trip to Potter County. Afton stands as I leave and I can’t help but think that one day, he is going to make some girl very happy. He’s charming, sweet, attentive, polite, and not overly full of himself even if he has every reason to be. But try as I may, my heart remains utterly unaffected unless in the presence of a certain drummer who will be here in a few short minutes.
I can’t contain the smile that fills my face as I walk to the ladies’ r
oom. I’m still smiling when I step out of the stall and am caught like a deer in headlights in front of my own reflection. My eyes widen and my mouth opens slightly, as does the woman’s in the mirror. But I barely recognize her.
Her skin is glowing and her eyes are gleaming brightly under the merciless glare of the lights. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is nearly perfect, a few loose strands falling beside her face in a way that looks effortlessly intentional.
She looks so much older and wiser than I feel. So much so that I want to ask her what the future holds. If Gavin will ever see her this way. If this trip is doomed, if the band is, if I’m going to ruin everything. But before I can, two women enter the small room practically holding each other up as their laughter bounces off the walls and into me.
They appear oblivious to my presence as each of them takes a place at the available sinks and begin touching up their makeup. I wash my hands slowly, knowing I need to brush my teeth but realizing it will be an odd thing to do in front of them.
It’s not until I hear a familiar name that I actually pay attention to what they’re saying.
“Have you seen the catch Lantram reeled in? I mean, my God. Who even cares if he can sing? I’d sign him to the label just to watch him shake his ass in my office.” The busty blonde in the black dress that fits like it was custom made for her body applies a thick layer of gloss and smacks her lips loudly together.
My stomach roils, catching on quicker than my mind does.
Dallas. She’s talking about Dallas.
“Right? No wonder she isn’t here tonight. Probably tied up. Literally.” The brunette tousles her hair back and forth then gives each of her cheeks a slight pinch. “You know she does them all. Hello, why do you think all of her most successful clients are twenty-something and male? Woman knows what she wants, I’ll give her that.”
“Can’t say I—” The blonde stops talking midsentence and glares at me. “Can we help you?”
Oh shit. I’ve been staring openly at them. My mind races; thankfully I’m good on my feet. “God, sorry. I didn’t mean to stalker stare. I was trying to figure out what kind of gloss that was. Your lips look ah-mazing. I can never find a good plumper and collagen only lasts so long, you know?”
