Southern Rocker Chick

by Ginger Voight

  I plopped softly onto my single mattress. The sheets were mismatched, just the way I liked them. The fitted sheet was purple. The top sheet was yellow. The regular pillows were blue and pink, with sparkly or furry accent pillows in every color I could find. It made me happy to nestle there and dream about the life I might provide for my son one day.

  Sadly, I couldn’t think about those things without thinking of that estate north of Austin, filled with the best things money could buy. The spacious rooms, the opulent décor… the glossy finish. A room for every mood, from the formal living room to the media room, the gourmet kitchen to the luxurious pool. By blood, Cody had a right to all of that, and here he was stuck in this trailer because I had been a grade-A, number-one, first-class idiot.

  Four years had given me plenty of perspective. I had a lot of time to relive the short romance with Tony Paul, to see where it had all gone wrong. At eighteen, I was a foolish girl who had believed everything I saw and everything I was told. By twenty-two, I had learned to read between the lines.

  Tony Paul didn’t try to woo me for real until he overheard the conversation with Giovanni Carnevale. The very next day, I was in the band. It wasn’t because Tony Paul was overly impressed with my singing. It was simple bait and switch. If I sang with the band, then I was under Gay’s oppressive contract. Because of that contract, I was effectively muzzled when we all had the chance to perform when Jasper finally came a-courting.

  Everything they did was deliberate, to keep me from taking what was supposed to belong to Gay Hollis’s golden child.

  No matter what Gay had done to get exposure for her son, Tony Paul wasn’t the one who got Jasper Carrington to Southern Nights… I had. But Gay had made damned sure that he would never hear me sing by forcing me to mute myself for her precious Jacinda, levering my own financial straits against me. I had no choice but to comply, so Tony Paul got the spotlight and I didn’t. And I didn’t see it for what it was because Tony Paul was pouring on the charm, making me think I was special… that he cared.

  Using sex as his weapon, he kept me distracted from the woman behind the curtain, pulling all of our strings.

  I was every bit the naïve ingénue they thought I was. I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. I believed every promise, spoken and unspoken, even when faced with evidence that he wasn’t what he claimed to be. He never changed his womanizing ways, just like Jacinda had warned. And yet I was the enemy because I hadn’t protected him against the consequences of his own actions. He had made this baby same as me. But if I chased after what Cody was rightfully due, I looked like the money-grubbing gold-digger they all claimed I was.

  Worse, I was afraid they’d drag Cody through the mud to do it.

  So I never asked for one thin dime. I let the welfare application drop and never pursued child support. I didn’t even give Cody Tony Paul’s name. He was mine and I would take care of him.

  The only way Cody would ever have a father was if that man wanted to be there, to take care of him and provide for him because he loved him.

  Since that wasn’t Tony Paul, I knew it all fell to me.

  I covered my eyes with my arm as I considered my dwindling choices. Mama was right. I had run out of options. I had struggled for so many years and I was no better off for it. Another throwaway job at another shady bar wasn’t the answer. I may never own some multi-million-dollar mansion and cater to Austin’s elite, but I could do slightly better than some tired old trailer with a beat-up car and second-hand clothes.

  I just had to play it smart for once.

  There were only two clubs left in the city that could provide me the kind of future that Cody deserved: the Golden Armadillo and Southern Nights.

  Suffice it to say, I had burned bridges at both.

  I’d never go back to the Golden Armadillo that was for sure. Not even for Cody. After all this time, I was fairly convinced Doyle Quinlan was the devil. Nothing was worth putting myself back into his path. Lord only knew what he’d demand as repayment for any “favor,” which was exactly how he’d see putting me on the payroll.

  It nauseated me just thinking about it.

  Thanks to Tony Paul’s betrayal, sex had once again been sullied for me. In my worst nightmares, he and “Q” merged in my head like some two-headed monster, taking from me what I no longer wanted to give. It was enough for me to swear an unofficial vow of celibacy. I was ready to protect it with a closed fist and a raised knee whenever necessary, which was precisely why I was now unemployed.

  Again.

  Needless to say, that crossed the Golden Armadillo off of my list permanently.

  With a sigh I reached for my laptop. I did something that had sworn a long time ago I wouldn’t do. I typed “Southern Nights” into the search engine. The official website opened with all the bells and whistles one might expect from the top dog in Austin’s music scene. Looking at the photos tore at my gut. My best and worst days had happened within those walls.

  Seeing Gay’s face was like seeing a ghost. Ty was in the background, as usual. Jacinda was back to tending bar, all smiles as she posed with sexy cowboys who lifted her up on strong shoulders. The house band had completely changed, not that it mattered. Gay’s attention had always been focused on her favorite son.

  I scanned down the page to find the jobs link. Sure enough, there was an opening for a bartender, just like all those years ago, and for a helluva lot more per hour than $2.13.

  Mama would have a conniption if she knew what I was considering. But tending bar at Southern Nights was one of the best-paying jobs I’d ever had, second only to “singing” backup for the band.

  I glanced at Cody where he slept in his bed. He deserved all that and more. And in some weird, ironic twist, he could still have a piece of his father’s family money.

  I just had to earn every single penny, rather than ask for one red cent.

  If, of course, Gay hired me back at all.

  But how could she not? I was willing to leverage the one thing I had held in my back pocket for three and a half years. It was my ace in the hole, only to be used in the direst of circumstances.

  “Mama?” Cody murmured as he woke up alone in his bed.

  “Here, baby,” I said softly. I held up the colorful covers as I watched him scoot out of his bed and make a beeline for mine. I cuddled him close as I wrestled the last remaining doubts of going back to Southern Nights.

  Ultimately my mother decided my fate for me. By morning she was ready to issue the same ultimatum to me that she had to Lucas all those years ago. We sat across from each other, holding very strong cups of coffee to get us through our brutally honest talk about finances and prospects. “I’ll meet you halfway,” she said. “One more job, no matter where it is, I’ll support your working there, whether you sing or you scrape gum off the bottom of tables in a bikini. But if you get fired again, you give up on this pipe dream once and for all. Deal?”

  I thought about my secret backup plan with Southern Nights. “No matter what, no matter where?” I said.

  She nodded. “Even if you go back to the Golden Armadillo.”

  But both of us knew I’d never go there. “Fine,” I agreed. “But I want a promise from you.”

  She eyed me warily. “And that is?”

  “If I can’t find a job to make things work here, we leave. No dead-end road for me, no dead-end road for you.”

  She sighed. Finally she looked into my eyes. “Deal.”

  I got into my car and prayed for it to start, since I knew I couldn’t depend on the Mama Taxi to take me where I wanted to go. This old car had needed a new battery for weeks, but in order to get it, I needed a job.

  There was never any extra money to save for those things we might need, since we always had needs that weren’t quite met. Money went out as soon as it came in, and we had to prioritize our spending on which expense could wait the longest.

  This only strengthened my resolve. I pointed it straight for Southern Nights.

  It w
as just after one o’clock in the afternoon when I got there. I told the security guard I was there for the bartender job. “You have an appointment?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Tell them Lacy Abernathy is here.”

  He called the main office. I could hear Gay’s booming voice from where I stood three feet away. “I have a Lacy Abernathy at the door, says she’s here about a job?”

  There was a long silence. Finally I heard her say, “Send her up.”

  My legs shook as I was escorted into the large, familiar building. It hadn’t changed much in the last four years, but I had. They would not defeat me again. Come hell or high water, I was there on my own terms. I had something that I knew Gaynell Hollis wanted. It happened to be the very thing that motivated every choice I made in my life.

  I would pull every last arrow in my quiver if it meant I could provide a better life for my son.

  Gay’s office door was open, but I knocked anyway. She was sitting at her desk, like she had been the last time I saw her. She glanced over her reading glasses. “Come in.”

  I held my head up as I walked to the chair opposite her desk. Her eyes scanned my new appearance from my scarlet-red hair to my host of tattoos proudly on display across my chest and my arms, courtesy of the strapless top I wore. I didn’t even bother hiding who I had become. She’d have to deal with it or I walked, that was just how it was going to be.

  I sat in the chair and crossed on leather-clad leg over the other. “Hello, Gaynell.”

  “Lacy,” she said as she leaned back in the chair. “Never thought I’d see you here again.”

  “Me, either,” I said.

  “They tell me you’re here for a job. Is that a joke?”

  I shook my head. “I’m quite serious. You need a bartender and I have experience.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. “And why should I hire you, given our history?”

  “Because I need a good-paying job to provide for my son. I figured as a mother you’d understand the need to do whatever needs to be done to protect one’s children.”

  “I do indeed. So I’ll ask again. Why should I hire you, given our history?”

  I leaned forward, propping myself up on the edge of her desk. “It’s a matter of math. If I don’t have a job, that means I need to go on welfare. What do you think is going to happen the minute I do?” She said nothing. “Let me spell it out for you. If I don’t work, Tony Paul gets pinched for all the back child support he owes. This way we both win.”

  She chuckled. “I don’t consider being blackmailed a ‘win.’”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t consider being solely responsible for a child a very wealthy man helped create a ‘win’ either, but them’s the breaks. I’m not asking you for a handout, Gay. I’ll work for my money and you know it.” She remained quiet so finally I said, “You know I wouldn’t be here unless I didn’t have a choice.”

  “I’ll give you that,” she acquiesced with a nod. “But I still don’t see what’s in it for me.”

  I reached into my purse and withdrew some papers. I slid them across her desk. She looked them over and then glanced back up at me. “It relinquishes Tony Paul’s rights to Cody. Free and clear for the rest of his life.” My eyes met hers. “He can come home.”

  She linked her hands together over the document. “And all you want in return is a job working the bar?”

  “What I want is irrelevant. I need the money. You pay better than any venue in this town.”

  “I take care of my own,” she said simply.

  “As do I.”

  She glanced over all my body modifications. “I can’t put you behind the bar looking like that.”

  It was the resistance I expected, so I was ready for it. “Of course you can,” I said. “It’s your bar. You call the shots. You can change the rules when it suits you.”

  “Then let me be more precise. I won’t put you behind the bar looking like that. You don’t fit the aesthetic I’ve worked very hard to create for Southern Nights.”

  I took the paper back from her. “Totally your choice,” I said as I rose to my feet, ready to take the battle to the next round should she call my bluff. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Sit down, Lacy.”

  I hesitated only a second before I did as I was told. She pulled open one of her file cabinets and rifled through until she pulled out a contract of her own.

  It was my contract.

  “What’s this?”

  She spun out of her chair to walk around to my side of the desk. “Your timing couldn’t be more perfect. I just lost my opening act over the weekend. I need someone to front the house band. You don’t fit in behind the bar anymore, but my stage has different rules.”

  “Yeah, I know all about those rules,” I shot back. “That’s why that contract you’re holding is worthless. I broke ‘em all.”

  She chuckled. “There were no provisions to this contract, Lacy. There was no probation. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” My jaw clenched. The only thing worse than being manipulated by a Hollis was to hear one so gleefully point it out. “I signed you for a year and you and I never dissolved the contract. That means I can renew. My option.”

  I eyed her suspiciously. This, I wasn’t expecting. “But why would you want to?”

  “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. How about you sing for me and let me decide that for myself?”

  Her eyes were clear as glass as she stared into my face. I knew there was a very real possibility she’d send me packing after I sang, just one more humiliation for me to endure. But I tipped my chin and started to sing the song I had written for Jacinda all those years ago, about wanting to fit in with her very own family.

  If the lyrics connected with Gay, she never showed it. Instead she walked back to her chair and linked her fingers on her lap as she listened. She let me finish before she said anything. “I’ll need someone to work Thursday through Saturday to start. Will that fit into your schedule?”

  I was stunned. She was going to give me a job as a singer? “Are you serious?”

  She chuckled. “You’ve had a few years to think about this. Did it never occur to you that there was a reason I picked you to front the band after Tony Paul left?” I said nothing so she elaborated. “You’re a talented girl, Lacy. I’ve known it since the first time I heard you sing.”

  “I figured that out,” I snapped. “Which is why you never let me have a chance to sing when a contract with Carrington Entertainment was on the line.”

  “Exactly,” she admitted without one iota of shame. “Despite what you think, it was never personal. Under different circumstances, I would have put all my energy and my influence behind you.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Because you’re smart. Something else I knew about you right away.”

  It was my turn to chuckle. “You must really want something to blow this much sunshine up my ass. You know I was ready to let Tony Paul off the hook if you just hired me as a bartender, right?”

  “See, that’s your problem, Lacy. You’ve always been too eager to sell yourself short.” She scribbled something on a sticky note, stuck it on the old contract and handed it to me. I sucked in a breath when I saw the number. It was exactly what she had paid me to sing backup in the headlining band, which was about twice as much as I’d been paid to perform anywhere else. I looked up at her. “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Call me a softy,” she suggested. I simply glared at her until she went on. “You’re right. You’re a mother ready to do anything for her child. And I respect that.” She paused. “We want the same things, Lacy. We don’t have to be enemies here.”

  “Oh, Gay,” I sighed. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Do you have a choice?” My mouth clamped shut. “I tell you what. How about you hold onto that piece of paper in your hand for just a little while longer?” I glanced down at the relinquishment of parental rights I had offered her. “Give me ninet
y days, same as I gave you four years ago. Then, when you see I’m on the level, you can decide for yourself to do the right thing.”

  “But Tony Paul could come home,” I reminded her. “Now, not three months from now. He could front your band…,” I offered but she cut me off.

  “Tony Paul will come home,” she assured. “But priorities change, Lacy. You know that. Sing for me. Bring in the crowds. And then maybe everyone can get what they want for a change.”

  My brow furrowed as I stared at her. She was up to something; that much I knew.

  But my risk was minimal, considering the reward. I rose from the chair, folded the papers I brought and put them back into my purse. “What time should I come in?”

  “I’ll have your contracts ready by Thursday at noon. I’ll prepare a songbook for you for all the songs the band already knows.”

  “I don’t do cover songs,” I told her. “I write my own.”

  “If you want to sing with my band, you will have to do covers. That’s just how it works. The audience knows these songs, loves these songs. That’s how they’ll get to know you and love you. I’ve started every new act the same way, you know that. And every single singer I’ve worked with has moved on to bigger and better things. That’s what you want, isn’t it? For you and for Cody?”

  I had no comeback to that.

  “I know what I’m doing, Lacy. If you trust me just a little, we’ll work you up to headlining yourself. Then you can perform any ol’ song you want. Just give me ninety days of doing it my way. Deal?”

  She held out her hand. I exhaled deeply before I shook.