“You’re trying to play a game a chicken with me, so all right. Game on. I’m gonna take that extension you’re offering, and I’m going to deliver the best album of my life.”
And in the meantime, if he had any prayer on following through with that declaration, he needed to get the rust off his work ethic and get back in musician mode. Which meant he needed to write some more songs. And book some gigs to test out those new songs. Compared to the daunting task of winning over Skye and her family, rebuilding his career from the ground up would be easy as pie.
Chapter Eighteen
Skye didn’t miss a day of work for the rest of the week. It was such a relief to be out of the house, her mind on her job instead of her aching wrist and the road rash on her legs that was itching like crazy. Her mom’s perpetually grouchy disposition didn’t even faze her.
On Friday, she was driving a golf cart to the chapel to give it a final clean before that night’s wedding, her mind a million miles away, when Mama Lita stepped in front of her on the path, her legs out and a hand up in an international sign to stop, as if Skye had any choice, given that Mama Lita was blocking her passage. As it was, she had to slam on the brakes.
“Hey, Mama Lita! What are you doing here?”
As though the question offended her, Mama Lita gave a terse shrug. “What kind of question is that? This is practically our home. Walk with me. We need to talk.”
Every now and then, Skye rebelled against Mama Lita’s commands, but she usually lived to regret it. Since she wasn’t looking forward to cleaning the chapel, she couldn’t see any harm in finding out what was on Mama Lita’s mind. She negotiated the golf cart onto the close-cropped lawn and hopped out.
She fell into step with her grandmother’s brisk pace toward the Winter Wonderland Garden. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Mama Lita captured the cigarette between two fingers and brought it down to her side as though it was actually lit. “I want to commend you.”
“For what?”
“For having this baby on your own, not using a man as a crutch. Good for you.”
Skye stumbled over a crack in the concrete. Having this baby? Did that mean she knew? Impossible. “How did you know that I’m … I’m…” She couldn’t get the words out. Not yet.
She winked. “You think that anally-retentive mother of yours is the only one with a few magic tricks up her sleeve?”
Skye grabbed Mama Lita’s sleeve. “You won’t tell her, or anyone, will you? I’m not ready.”
She lifted the cigarette to her mouth again and placed it in the corner of her lips. “Of course, I won’t. This is your life. It’s past time for you to take charge of it.”
Good. Okay. Crisis averted. Magic tricks. Now they were talking. “Then let me ask you a question, since you brought up magic. Do you know how to reverse the love spell my mom put on me?”
Mama Lita leaned in close. She smelled of burnt sage and Chanel No. 5. “I do.”
An intense wave of relief rippled through Skye. “Then help me. Please. If I never get romanced by another man, it’ll be too soon.”
“That’s the spirit! Gentry’s a good man, better than most, but you’re right not to let him woo you. Remember that it’s a trap that no woman needs. Just imagine what Frida could have become if she hadn’t had that dead weight of a man holding her back. He killed her, you know.”
Frida was Frida Kahlo, the flamboyant Mexican painter and feminist icon, whom Mama Lita talked about as though she were an old friend from childhood. True, they’d grown up in the same neighborhood, but a solid thirty years apart in age. By the time Mama Lita had been born, Frida Kahlo was already living in the States, which was a fact that nobody dared mention. Nor the fact that Diego Rivera had nothing to do with her death. “You don’t think the accident had anything to do with that?”
Mama Lita waved off the suggestion. “Bah. It was that man. It’s always the man.” She wrapped a hand around Skye’s cast and gave it a shake that made Skye wince. “Look at how you were almost killed. Do you blame the moving van or the man?”
For some reason, Skye had never really internalized how vehemently Mama Lita felt about men. “The moving van.”
But Mama Lita wasn’t having it. “You show me a happily married man and I’ll show you a woman in chains. Singledom is the key to living a long, happy life.”
Remedy wasn’t in chains. Gloria hadn’t been in chains with Ruben. “My mom’s married to your son, and she’s not in chains.” But as soon as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. Her mom was in all kinds of chains, but not because of Skye’s dad. They were chains of her own making. Skye’s heart sank. Was that really any different from the chains Skye had imposed on herself?
As soon as she thought it, she scrubbed the notion from her brain. Nope. She was not turning into her mother. No how, no way.
“Ha!” Mama Lita said. “You really are brainwashed.”
“I’m not. I’m really not. So help me out, if you’re so good with magic. Let’s get rid of all these men.”
Mama Lita skidded to a stop and squinted one eye. “You want to know the secret to ending the spell?”
Skye’s breath caught in her lungs. “Please. My mom says I have to fall in love for the spell to end, but I can’t. I won’t.”
Mama Lita snorted her disgust. “Your mother and June Briscoe are two of a kind. Here is the truth: stop listening to those windbags. While you’re at it, stop valuing anyone else’s opinions above your own. Go out. Have fun. Live your life.”
“That’s the worst advice ever. How do you think I got in this mess?”
Mama Lita looked her up and down, then shuffled behind her, getting a 360-degree view. “What mess? I don’t see any mess.”
“Mama Lita, please stop being obtuse. My life is nothing but one big hot mess right now. I’m all banged up, my wrist is hurt—” And I’m pregnant. Though she couldn’t yet say the words, she set a hand on her belly. “If I’m supposed to ignore the opinions of others, then I guess I’ll ignore yours too. Which is too bad because I thought you said you had some magic tricks up your sleeves that would help me.”
“I do have magic, child. Same as you do. You don’t need any spells. It’s all in your heart. Stop pretending that the spell works and it will go away. Be happy with your life, just as it is, and believe in yourself.”
Believe in herself? Was Mama Lita kidding with that shit? “You’re the last person I expected to start spouting lessons like an afterschool special on TV.”
“Maybe so, but there it is.”
The sound of her radio made Skye jump. “Skye? Have you written next week’s schedule yet? I can’t find it on your desk,” her mom said, tone sharp.
Mama Lita muttered a string of curse words under her breathe and shook her head. “That woman, your mother, needs to take that stick out of her ass. I’ve been asking my son to do that for her for years.”
With a warning look at Mama Lita, Skye lifted the radio to her lips. “I haven’t started it, but I’m on my way back to the office. I’ll have it to you by the end of the day.”
Her mom’s silence said enough. She could practically feel her mom’s eye roll through the air between them. Guilt settled like a rock in Skye’s gut. Screw Mama Lita’s advice, Skye would be better off doing the opposite—going to bed early after praying for forgiveness for her sins.
“Enough,” Mama Lita said, as if reading her mind. “I have to go. June and I are scheduled for a cutthroat game of Bingo tonight, so I’ll see you later. Remember, go have some fun.”
Cutthroat Bingo? Skye wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She gave Mama Lita a kiss on the cheek and bid her good-bye.
As if it’d been a coordinated attack on Skye’s plans, the moment Mama Lita was gone, her phone chimed with an incoming text from Remedy. Micah and I are going for burgers tonight at Hog Heaven. Wanna come?
Hog Heaven. The site of so many fun nights. A bar and barbecue joint twenty minutes down the highway
from Dulcet. It was the first place she’d tested out her fake ID when she was nineteen. It was where she learned how to two-step and the site of many wonderful memories with friends and boyfriends. Plus, they really did make a killer burger.
Her stomach growled.
Did Mama Lita put you up to this? she texted.
Your grandma? LOL. Your grandma would have invited herself along too.
True.
Skye blew a strand of hair from her cheeks with a puff of air. What if Mama Lita was right? What if the key to ending the spell was to stop believing in it? It was worth a try anyway. And Skye was going to need a little fun after an afternoon spent writing next week’s schedule under the watchful eye of her mother.
She shook her head as she typed, I’ll meet you at your house. What time?
* * *
Hog Heaven had the best burgers in Hill Country, hands down. Which was why it was jumping with people and music almost every night of the week. It was particularly packed on this Saturday night, moments before the Buck Riders, a band out of Dallas, took the stage.
Skye walked in behind Remedy and Micah, and one look at the Saturday-night party crowd had her feeling instantly optimistic about her life and future. For the first time since the accident, the dark cloud of dread that had been haunting her dissipated. She was going to be all right because she was going to make sure she was all right. She and the baby. Mama Lita was right. She had to let go of her irrational fears about the future and learn to love her hot mess of a life.
“Praise be, is that a table I see opening up?” Micah said, nodding toward the dance floor, where an older couple were rising from a tiny round table.
“On it,” Remedy said, pushing through the crowd.
“I’ll get us some drinks and order the food. No sense waiting for a server to come take our order. This place is slammed tonight. What do you want, Skye? Your usual, a burger with cheese and a Jack and Coke?” He wedged his shoulder into an opening at the bar, then looked back at Skye for her order.
Skye already knew pregnant women couldn’t drink alcohol, but what about caffeine? She couldn’t remember. Yet another question to ask her OB/GYN next week when she had her first official prenatal appointment. “A yes on the burger, and I’ll take a Sprite.”
He flickered his eyebrows at that, but she took off after Remedy before he could ask any questions.
Before Micah could join them at the table, though, a server came around to take their drink order. He was tall and good-looking, but young … and from the second he got to their table, he only had eyes for Skye. He lingered, hovering over them, even after Remedy explained that her husband was getting them drinks at the bar.
“So,” he said to Remedy. “You’re here alone?”
Here we go. Damn spell. “Not alone. My friend is right here.”
With a roll of his head, he squatted down, getting a little too close for comfort. “Yeah, but I mean, you’re not here with a guy. You’re single.”
“She is,” Remedy said.
Gee, thanks. Skye kicked her lightly beneath the table.
“That’s great to hear. Listen, I get off work in a half-hour. Would it be okay with you if I came back after my shift and asked you to dance?”
Skye tried to look disappointed when she said, “Sorry, but I gave up men for Lent.”
He chuckled, as though he approved of the burn. “Yeah? My sister did that one year too. This year I gave up beer, so you can imagine how much fun it is working in a place like this.” He tucked his pencil behind his ear, then extended his hand for her to shake. “I’m Adam.”
She shook it, to be polite. “What’s your favorite kind of beer, Adam?”
“I’m a Shiner Bock man. You’re not going to tell me your name?”
Slick. He was paying attention. “Skye, and you can bring me a pint of Shiner Bock then.” Obviously, she couldn’t drink it, given that she was pregnant, but she couldn’t pass up an opportunity to rub Adam’s nose in his Lenten sacrifice, just for the hell of it.
He made a show of clutching his heart. “You’re a cruel woman, Skye. But as you wish.”
Micah arrived with their drinks just as Adam left. “Here we are, ladies. Remedy, your beer. And Skye, your Sprite.”
Remedy tapped Skye’s glass. “What’s with the Sprite? You feeling okay?”
Skye took a long, slow drink, conjuring the response she’d prepared on her way to Remedy’s house earlier that night. “Yep, but I’m still on antibiotics. That beer from Adam was all for show.”
“Nice. Even though it sucks that you can’t drink yet.”
“I know.” The truth sucked even more. She felt terrible leaving one of her dearest friends in the dark, but she wouldn’t be the first pregnant woman to want to keep the news to herself until after the first trimester had passed. Moms-to-be did that all the time.
“Who was that guy you were talking to when I walked up?” Micah asked.
“Skye’s new boyfriend,” Remedy said.
“Yeah, right. That was Adam. He wants to dance with me when his shift is over.”
Remedy sipped her beer. “It’s all part of this spell that her mom conjured for her.” To Skye, she said, “Tell him about it.”
Remedy told Micah the Reader’s Digest version of the spell story. “And now I get asked out everywhere I go, leaving a trail of heartbroken puppies in my wake.”
“I guess you don’t mind too much because you hooked up with Gentry Wells,” Micah said with a wink.
Remedy ribbed him. “Micah!”
“What? It’s not like it’s a secret. It’s all over the news.”
That it had been. But Gentry was different. He wasn’t part of the spell. Which didn’t explain what he was still doing in town. Or why she couldn’t stop thinking about him. “If it’s all the same for you two, I don’t want to talk about Gentry tonight. I just want to have some fun and forget my troubles.” Or at least try to.
Their burgers arrived just as the Buck Riders took the stage, along with Skye’s Shiner Bock. The cheers in the bar reminded Skye of the Wild Beaver and the way the crowd had cheered Gentry onto the stage. What a night that had been. One of the best nights of her life in so many ways.
She loved being that wild, feeling so free. Frustration settled in her throat, tightening it painfully. Why did she crave that feeling so badly? Why couldn’t she just settle down like a nice girl and be content with mundane routines and kind, if boring, men? But she couldn’t seem to bring herself to give up her vices.
“Thank y’all for coming out to see us tonight,” the lead singer said into the microphone. “We’ve got something special for you, a special guest singer who’s gonna bring the house down. He contacted us this afternoon, looking for a last-minute gig, and I’m still pinching myself. I can’t believe I have the privilege to stand on this stage with him and sing for y’all tonight. Now, I know there are a lot of haters who thought he’d be taking a break to recuperate after a motorcycle accident a couple weeks ago, but all of us fans knew better than to count out none other than the one, the only … Mr. Well Hung!”
Skye’s head snapped up. No. Couldn’t be.
The lead singer basked in the cheers, flapping his arms in a “raise the roof” gesture that made the crowd cheer even louder. “That’s right, you know who I’m talkin’ about. Put your hands together for the one, the only … Gentry Wells!”
Skye felt Remedy and Micah’s eyes on her, but if she looked at them now, she’d lose all composure. What the hell?
“Did you know he’d be here?” Remedy called over the din.
“No clue. I told him I needed some space. This”—Skye gestured to the stage—“this is not space.” What she wouldn’t give for a shot of tequila. Good Lord, she was pissed. She glowered at the pint of beer on the table in front of her.
“Maybe he didn’t know you’d be here. I mean, how could he?” Remedy said. “Coincidences do happen, you know.”
She was right that there was no way
Gentry could have known she’d be there, but that didn’t stop her from feeling smothered in the worst possible way.
And then there he was, taking the stage. Mr. Goddamn Well Hung. Mr. Not Respecting Skye’s Wishes. But also Mr. Sexy As Always, even with fresh scars on his hand and the missing finger. He played the crowd just like he had at the Wild Beaver, strutting around and slapping the hands of everyone in the front row. He’d told Skye he was a changed man, but up on stage he looked like the same old Gentry.
But then something happened. He brought the guitar that had been strapped to his back around to his front and from his pocket he took out a pick. Then he sat on a stool, paying the crowd no attention. The guitar looked awkward in his arms, like he was a beginner. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth.
Skye couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to learn to play with the opposite hand. Heck, whenever Skye tried to write her name with her left hand, not only did it look like a kindergartner’s scrawl, but she couldn’t even get the “S” to point in the correct direction.
As the opening bars of a twangy song started up, Gentry’s pick popped out of his now-four-fingered hand and bounced off his boot. There wasn’t time to pick it up before the verse started. Ever the experienced showman, he let the guitar hang there and gripped the mic as he sang, looking unruffled, as though he’d planned that minor gaffe.
Skye didn’t recognize the upbeat song, which was saying something because she’d given herself a crash course in Gentry’s music since their first night together, and this song definitely wasn’t his. But he sang it well and the crowd was into it.
When the song ended, the lead singer took to the mic again. “Thanks for starting us off with a little Garth Brooks, Gentry. But how about we get into your stuff? I know the crowd tonight would love to hear some of your classics. We’ve been covering your songs for years and it’d be an honor, man.”
One Wild Night Page 23
