by Sarra Cannon
The music begins and everyone goes wild. I heard the band during their warm-up, and they’re pretty darn good. Mostly covers with a few original songs thrown in, but I’ve got something really special in mind for a few weeks from now. If I can pull it off.
I can’t wait to tell Jo about it. She’s going to totally freak out.
I jump down off the stage and make my way through the crowd, my eyes on her.
It’s been a week since the day out at the lake, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. There was a moment there where I felt so connected to her, it scared me. I was pulled toward her, as if I couldn’t control myself or think of anything but wanting to kiss her.
If her father hadn’t come outside at just the wrong moment, we would have kissed. And there hasn’t been a minute since then that I haven’t wanted to do it again.
We worked together a few times over the past week, but we never had any time alone. There’s a part of me that wonders if it wasn’t a blessing that her daddy interrupted our kiss. She’s technically my boss, and this job is the best thing to come around for me in a long time. I can’t afford to mess this up, and the one surefire way to do that is to get involved with her.
It’s stupid, right? A fling with Jo would be amazing, and there isn’t a part of me that doubts how good it would be to turn that girl’s world upside down for a little while.
But what happens when it ends?
Because with me, it always ends.
Most of my ex-girlfriends—if you can even call them that since I don’t think I’ve ever been in a truly committed relationship in my life—are still good friends of mine. Something tells me it wouldn’t be that way with Jo. She’s not exactly the type of woman who goes out every weekend and fools around with a lot of different guys.
If we start something up, it could get complicated. Am I ready for complicated?
But as I walk toward her, I really don’t care. I just want to jump in head-first and enjoy the ride.
“You’re a natural on stage,” she says when I hop over the counter and join her behind the bar.
“Yes, I do believe I am,” I say. “I think now would be the perfect time to ask for a raise.”
“Don’t press your luck,” she says. She pulls a few beers from the cooler and passes them to a group of college guys.
“What if I told you I might have a band coming in next month that currently has a song on the Top 100 Country Music Charts?” I say.
“I’d say you need to lay off the booze while you’re working.”
My lips curl into a smile, and I wait, arms crossed casually.
She serves a few more people and then turns back to me. She shakes her head. “Wait a second. You’re not serious, right?”
“Serious as a heart attack.”
She eyes me. “Who? And how?”
I shrug. “I mean, if you don’t have faith in me, maybe I ought to tell them not to come,” I say, walking away.
She grabs my arm and spins me around. “Colton Tucker, you tell me right this second. Who?”
Oh, man, I love teasing her. Her cheeks get rosy and her brown eyes sparkle as if there are fireworks going off somewhere inside.
“Long Road Ahead,” I say. “But if you aren’t interested—”
She screams and throws her arms around my neck. “Are you serious right now? I mean, Long Road Ahead here at our little hole in the wall bar?”
A group of people standing at the bar applaud, and I realize they’re staring at us, not the band. I throw my hands up, pretending to be exasperated, and roll my eyes.
“Women, right?” I say.
The group laughs, and Jo pulls away and smacks my shoulder.
“Stop playing around.” But she’s laughing, and it’s music to my ears. “Long Road Ahead?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. “Nothing’s set in stone yet, but I’ll know for sure in a couple weeks. Now, can we talk about that raise?”
Her smile is so wide, it reaches into my soul and lights me up.
“I’ll seriously think about it,” she says. Someone down at the end calls her name, and we’re starting to get a backlog of drink requests. “We need to get to work, but we’ll talk about this after, okay? Not the raise part, but the band part.”
“Or both, you know, if you’re feeling frisky.” I watch her turn and walk to the other side of the bar, a spring in her step that wasn’t there before.
Her hair is up in braids again tonight, and I find myself obsessed with the idea of taking it down and sinking my hands into it.
“Can we get some drinks over here? Or are you too busy checking out your co-worker?” My friend Mike is standing near the counter shouting so loud, I’ll be shocked if Jo didn’t hear him.
“Is that any way to treat the guy you’re hoping to get drinks from?” I say, laughing. “What can I get for you?”
“Tequila shots, all around,” he says.
His girlfriend Jenny gives me a little wave, but she’s singing along with the band.
“Just the two of you?”
“No, we’re over there with Grant and Avery,” he says, pointing to our other set of friends standing a little closer to the stage. “You should come out with us tonight when you knock off work. We’re going down to the beach to build a bonfire.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, pouring out four shots of Tequila.
He throws a twenty on the bar and gathers up the glasses. “See you out there if you can make it,” he says. “You know the spot.”
I raise my chin. “Yep.”
I glance down at Jo, and wonder if she’d come with me. There’s probably no chance in hell, but that isn’t going to stop me from asking her.
“Rum and coke.”
I turn to the next guy in line, and stop short. “Hey, I know you,” I say. I pour his drink, but I’m trying to put my finger on where I’ve seen him before.
He smiles. “Owen in the Mornings,” he says, naming the local radio station’s popular morning show. “I’m Owen.”
He reaches across the bar and we shake hands.
“Owen, that’s right,” I say. “Drinks on the house for a local celebrity. Thanks for coming in tonight.”
“I appreciate that,” he says. “What you guys are getting started here is really something special. It’s good for Fairhope.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“And so are you,” he says.
I glance up, trying to figure out if he’s hitting on me or what. I have had my fair share of invitations at this bar, but this would be the first time it was coming from a guy.
“Um, thanks,” I say.
He laughs. “I mean that you’ve really got a stage presence,” he says. “I had a friend in the crowd last week who told me I should come check you out, and I’m glad I did. You’ve got the right kind of voice and personality.”
“I’m confused, but flattered,” I say.
He pulls a card from his wallet and pushes it across the bar. “My sidekick, Scottie, is leaving the show in six months, and I’ve got to find a good replacement,” he says. “I’m inviting DJ’s from all over to come in and audition, but I would love to have a hometown voice on the show.”
I pick up the card and stare at it, not really sure I heard him right.
“You want me to audition for your radio show?”
“Yes, sir. I think you would be a natural for radio.”
I slowly shake my head and put the card back down on the bar. “I’m more of a sleeping-in kind of guy,” I say. “But I appreciate the thought.”
“Think about it,” he says. He picks up his drink and starts to move away. “I think you’re exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
I nod and pick up the card again. Me on the radio?
There’s a nervous knot in my stomach just thinking about it. A job like that could be fun, but it would be a lot of responsibility, having to get up crazy early in the morning and perform for people every day. I’m not sure I’
m cut out for it.
“What’s that?” Jo asks. She presses her arm against mine as she leans in to get a closer look.
“Nothing,” I say, tossing the card into the trash.
But as I stare after the radio guy, I realize this is the first time in my life someone thought I was better than nothing. It’s the first time I actually felt like something.
Chapter Thirteen
“Goodnight Slim,” I say, standing on my tiptoes to hug him one last time. “Thanks again for tonight.”
“Anytime, Miss Jo,” he says. “It was fun.”
“Might be an even bigger crowd next week, so I hope you’re ready.”
“I can handle it.” He smiles and makes his way out to his car.
I close and lock the door behind him, collapsing against it with a sigh of relief.
“We did it,” I shout. “Another successful Saturday night in the books.”
“Have you looked at this tip jar?” Colton says, whistling.
“As good as last week?”
“Better than good,” he says.
I’m exhausted, but giddy. A year and a half ago we were scared we were going to have to close the doors on this old place, so to be booming is a dream come true.
“We need a drink to celebrate,” I say.
Colton raises an eyebrow. “Before we even count the money and clean up?” He glances around. “Who are you and what have you done with Jo?”
“Haha, very funny,” I say, sitting down at one of the barstools across from him. “I know I can be tough sometimes, but I think we both deserve a break tonight, don’t you? We’ll get this place cleaned up before we go home. I’ll come over tomorrow on my day off and finish up if I have to.”
“Scotch?” he asks.
“Not tonight. Tonight I want a Corona with a lime,” I say. “And a shot of tequila. The good stuff.”
He pretends to stumble backward, clutching his chest. “Oh my God, a woman after my own heart,” he says. “You are not playing around, are you?”
I laugh. “I’m happy and tired and I’m not going to let anything ruin it tonight,” I say. “Not even me.”
He opens the Corona and pulls a fresh lime from the cooler, taking his sweet time cutting it up before he squeezes one slice into the top of my beer. He sets up a couple glasses and pours two shots of Patron.
“To the best night yet,” he says, meeting my eyes.
I can’t help but wonder if there’s a double meaning to his toast.
I pick up my glass and touch it against his. “To the best night yet.”
An hour later, we are both three shots and two beers deep into the night. We’ve managed to clean up most of the mess behind the bar and set all the chairs and tables back up, and now we are just sitting together alone, enjoying the silence.
“So, I want to know more about what Owen Kanton was over there talking to you about earlier,” I say.
“Oh, him? He just wanted a recipe for my Fairhope Iced Tea,” he says, avoiding my eyes. “It’s famous around here.”
“Tell me the truth,” I say. “You guys were standing there talking for a while.”
“Really, it’s nothing important,” he says.
“I want to know, and if you don’t tell me right now, I’ll cut your shifts for a week,” I say, teasing of course.
He gives me his lopsided smile and his eyes light up. “You never let up, do you?”
“Not when I can tell ‘nothing important’ is really something special,” I say. “What did he want?”
He messes with the label on his beer bottle, pulling pieces off and rolling them into tiny balls that he sets on the bar top.
“Well, Mr. Owen seemed to agree with you. He thinks I’m a natural on stage and had some crazy idea about me coming in to audition for the morning show.”
“What?” I scream and stand up. “Are you serious?”
“It’s nothing, Jo, really.”
“That is not nothing,” I say. “That’s huge. When is the audition?”
“I’m not going to audition for some morning show,” he says. “Do you realize how early those guys have to get up?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Sleep all afternoon if you want to sleep,” I say. “You don’t turn down an opportunity to be on the radio. That’s one of the most popular morning shows in the state. There are rumors they’re going national soon, but I heard there was some kind of hold up.”
“Losing his partner would probably qualify.”
“I would bet,” I say. “So he’s scouting out talent, and he came here tonight to see you? Colton, that’s big news. You have to go.”
“I wouldn’t be able to work the bar at night and go into work again at the crack of dawn,” he says. “And I like tending bar.”
“Come in on the weekends,” I say. “We could work it out. But if you got that gig, you probably wouldn’t need a second job. I bet it pays pretty well.”
He takes a long breath through his nose and shakes his head. “It’s just not me. It feels too much like a career, you know? I like living with the illusion that I’m a free man,” he says. “I can go anywhere and do anything I want at any time I choose. With a real job like that, I’d be stuck in this town every day of my life.”
“First of all, this is a real job, thank you very much,” I say. I’m afraid I’m slurring my words a little bit, but I take another sip of my beer anyway. “Third of all, you never really go anywhere now.”
He smiles. “You skipped second of all.”
I frown and finish my beer. “Second of all,” I say, searching my mind for another point I was trying to make, “I like having you stuck in this town.”
“Do you?” His eyebrow flicks up and my heart flutters.
My face flushes and the back of my neck feels like it’s on fire. “I mean, I’m glad you came to work for us, but that’s a good opportunity. I think you should go to that audition.”
He shakes his head and sits up straight. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good enough,” I say. “How’s the apartment working out for you?”
I’ve specifically been avoiding the garage, because I didn’t want to be tempted to go hang out with him. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about it, though. In fact, it’s been driving me wild.
“It’s great,” he says. “Thanks again for letting me stay.”
I hand him my empty beer and he reaches into the cooler for another.
“No more,” I say. “I’m starting to get a little giggly, and when that happens, it’s time to call it quits.”
His smile drops for a second, or did I imagine it?
“Let me get you some water, instead,” he says. “Don’t want you trying to walk the long journey home without sobering up.”
I giggle and then quickly cover my mouth, embarrassed. He cuts a sideways glance at me.
“See?”
He pours an ice water and pushes it toward me. “You have a nice laugh.”
I sip my water and the room gets quiet. We both seem to realize the night is winding down. It’s after three in the morning, and everyone else is long gone. Pretty soon we’re going to run out of excuses to be hanging out this late. It’s either admit there’s something more between us or part ways.
And I’m not sure whether I’m being stupid or what, but I don’t get up from my seat. I just wait and hope he doesn’t make some excuse about being too tired and wanting to get home.
“Let’s see. Last weekend you quizzed me about my family. So what’s your story?” he asks, coming around the bar and settling down on the stool beside me. “You’re an only child, right?”
I exhale. I so didn’t want this night to end just yet.
“Growing up it was just me and my dad for as long as I can remember,” I say.
“What happened to your mom? If you don’t mind me asking.”
The strange thing is, I didn’t mind. I usually hate talking about my mom, but with Colton, everything is easy. He
has a way about him that just puts everyone at ease, including me.
“She left us when I was a little girl,” I say. “I had just turned five when she told us she was going to go visit her parents for a few days in Tennessee. She said she’d be gone a week, tops, but she never got there. And she never came home.”
“Wow, where did she go?”
“I have no idea,” I say. “After about two days, Dad was worried out of his mind. He’d called her parents about a thousand times asking about her, and they just kept saying they hadn’t heard from her. She apparently had never even told them she was coming there to visit. Dad was convinced her car had broken down somewhere on the road and she’d been murdered or something horrible. It was one of the scariest weeks of my life. I swear neither one of us slept a wink. He’d called nearly every hospital from here to Nashville trying to find her, but no one had any information.”
“I can’t even imagine that,” he says. “Did you ever find out where she was?”
“She called him about a week later out of the blue, acting like nothing was wrong,” I say. “I still don’t know everything they said to each other that night, and I was too little to really understand what was happening. I just remember Dad yelling for what seemed like forever, telling her she needed to come home and talk about this instead of running off like a coward. She never even said goodbye to me, really. She just called that one time to tell him she was gone and that he shouldn’t come looking for her. We never heard from her again except when Dad got the divorce papers in the mail.”
“Holy shit,” Colton says. He runs a hand across his forehead. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
I shrug, and the simplicity of the gesture tells me how far I’ve come toward accepting what happened between my mother and me. It has taken me years to come to terms with her leaving, but now it just feels like something that was always meant to be.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ve come to believe that it was for the best, really. I hardly even remember her now. It’s always just been me and Daddy, like two little peas in a pod.”
