Sam sat silent and still for a long time before she spoke again. “She hasn’t had those nightmares for years,” she finally admitted. Sara would probably be furious with her, but she had taken Chris’ measure and knew he was good for her sister. She didn’t want to see Sara squander this chance at real happiness. At least one of them should have a happily ever after. “Our parents always had a rocky relationship,” she began. “Papa worked on an oil platform in the Gulf, so he was away from home a lot. And Momma…well, I guess she got lonely.” She sighed. “I don’t remember much about the night it happened.”
She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “Papa came home earlier than Momma expected. He caught her in bed with another man. Apparently, the guy got out the window, but Papa went back to his truck for his shotgun. Their arguing must have woken us up, because Sara was there in the bedroom when he shot Momma.”
“Holy shit!” Chris exclaimed.
“Yeah, I know. It sounds like a country song, doesn’t it?” she quipped grimly. “Momma’s last words to Sara were to take care of me,” she said, tears brimming. “She died before the ambulance arrived. They sent Papa to the state penitentiary.” She wiped her eyes. “So you see it’s a nightmare that neither of us can ever really escape, especially Sara.”
Chris put his arms around her. “I’m gonna help her try,” he said resolutely.
FULL OF NERVOUS anticipation, Fred Baron paced up and down the length of the large conference room at Sutton Place. Minutes ahead of the press conference, he surveyed the eager faces of his assembled fan club officers. “Ok, listen up, guys and…gal.” He smiled apologetically at his one female officer, Maggi Myer. “I have to warn you these things can get real crazy. I know from personal experience. So be on your guard. As representatives for the Official, Official Brutal Strength Fan Club, here’s what you need to remember. Number 1: Our mission statement. Enhance the appreciation of Brutal Strength. Number 2: Win over the non-believers with kindness not condemnation, and lastly, Number 3: We are enthusiastic aficionados of the band… not stalkers. I want all of you to be on your best, most professional behavior.”
He gave Gary Turner a stern look. “GT, keep your shirt on this time. We had complaints about the body paint at the last one.”
Gary laughed, agreeing to keep the paint confined to his face.
“People, I talked to Mary Timmons just this morning. She thanked us for our support and graciously allowed for each of us to ask one question after the press is done. The band has also very kindly agreed to sign some memorabilia for us to auction off for charity on our website.”
Fred glanced at his clipboard. As the president of BS’s Fan Club, he didn’t want to leave even one little detail to chance. A product of his day job as a librarian, Fred liked things neat and orderly. “Oh and one more thing, I assume you’ve all seen the latest TMZ pictures of JR and Samantha Daniels.” He motioned toward the young intern setting out press packets in the seats at the front of the room. “Let the press be the ones to put them on the spot, ok?”
“Sure boss,” Gary spoke up. “But can I ask Avery if Marcus ever has her dress up like a guy for old time’s sake?” He chuckled at his own joke.
The others laughed nervously, but Fred didn’t find the comment amusing in the least. Drawing himself up to his full height, he stared Gary down. “Absolutely not. You do that and I’ll personally revoke your lifetime membership.” Fred poked his finger in Gary’s chest. “Are we clear?”
“Yes, boss.” Gary head hung down.
Fred sighed. He never should have let a teenager be an officer. The power always went to their heads.
SAM HAD JUST put down the last packet when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she found herself looking into silvery green eyes that were filled with concern.
“Sara called and told me about you and JR,” Beth said, squeezing her hand. “Are you sure you’re ok to be here?”
“Sure, of course I am.” Sam had to bite her lip to keep from tearing up. Did everyone have to know her business? She gulped over the lump in her throat.
“I don’t know,” she replied skeptically.
“Really, I’m fine,” she said, straightening her shoulders and trying harder to appear convincing. “I’ve got this. Thanks, I…” She trailed off following the path of Beth’s gaze and immediately wishing she hadn’t.
JR had arrived, casual and sexy in a black button-down and Diesels, his hair stylishly messy. Her lungs suddenly felt like they were devoid of air. She hated how badly she missed him after only one day. He, however, seemed completely nonchalant without her. And he wasn’t alone. The stunning statuesque blond on his arm looked vaguely familiar.
Great, Sam thought, recognizing her. It was Cynthia Didier. He’d replaced her in less than twenty-four hours with a bleeping Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, no less. Sam felt like someone had plunged a sharp knife into her gut. Her previous resolve bled away. Hot tears welled in her eyes. It certainly hadn’t taken him any time to move on.
“Go,” Beth said, taking one look at her. “Get yourself together. We only have a few minutes before we start and I want you sitting beside me,” she pointed at a reserved chair on the front row, “when you come back.”
Sam ducked her head and scurried away.
JR’s eyes followed Sam as she left the room.
“JR,” Cynthia said. “That hurts.”
He loosened his grip on Cynthia’s hand as anger seethed beneath the surface. Seeing the wounded expression on Sam’s face had bothered him more than he cared to admit. It was probably just an act. The bitch had slept with Danny. She deserved any pain she felt.
“How long’s this gonna take?” Cynthia whined again in his ear. “You promised to take me out to lunch with V. I really want her to hear my music.”
“I know. I got it.” JR let go of her hand. “Just sit down over there. This won’t take long.”
JR reached into his jeans pocket and took out a flask. The alcohol burned his throat as it went down. He needed to be numb. He stumbled into his seat, watching cynically as Dwight kissed his pregnant wife on the cheek. He snorted. Dwight gave him a brief glance and shook his head before pulling out a chair.
Mary stepped up behind the center mic. She quieted the crowd with her I’m-in-charge royal stare. That lasted until Marcus and Avery arrived on stage. The place went wild as the two moved down to take their seats on the other side of Mary. Every reporter started shouting out questions at the same time.
“Marcus and Avery,” Mary said into the mic, tilting her head in their direction and waiting for the room to quiet down. “Glad you could join us.” She turned back to the audience. “Ok, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get down to business. You’ve all got your press packets. Love Evolution is Brutal Strength’s fifth album. It’s available for purchase starting today. And for the next seven days each CD purchased also comes with a free bonus video of ‘Brothers.’”
“When’s the wedding?” someone shouted out.
“Jared.” Mary glared at the disruptive heckler. “If you’d bothered to open up your packet you would have noticed that we’re taking questions in numerical order.” Beth’s idea. Genius considering the number of media present. She looked over the throng. “So,” she paused and waited amidst all the rustling of paper, “who’s first?”
“That would be yours truly,” Jared said, jumping up and waving a piece of paper in the air.
“Alright.” Mary sighed and made eye contact with Samantha.
Sam rose to her feet and brought the cordless mic over to him.
Smirking, Jared took it from her. “Jared Kinzler from Guitar World. So Marcus, it’s been weeks since you and the world found out that Avery Jones isn’t a guy. You two have been essentially unavailable for questioning. We know about the proposal at the Commodore. Everyone’s wondering…when’s the wedding?”
Marcus’ blue eyes sparkled, and he brought Avery’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Her long lashes fl
uttered down over her emerald eyes and her cheeks bloomed with color. The room lit up with flashes as every photographer tried to capture the moment. Marcus leaned sideways in his chair and whispered something in Avery’s ear that made her blush deepen. Turning back to the audience, Marcus leaned back into the mic. “Soon,” he replied. “Next.”
“Ashley Fergus from Fox News,” a beautiful brunette stood as Sam made her way over. “And this question is also for Marcus. What’d you just say to Avery?”
“I said,” Marcus ran his hands through his shoulder length dark hair, and his lips curved into a half smile, “not soon enough.” A roar of laughter filled the room and Marcus pulled Avery into his lap and kissed her neck.
“Ok, ok,” Mary said, taking charge again and giving Marcus a pointed stare. “Save it for the honeymoon, Romeo.” Glancing back at the audience, she said, “Listen guys let’s try to limit the personal questions. The band has a new album out and a tour coming up. Let’s stay on those topics.”
“Alright, Mary.” Carter Besille stood smoothing back his blond hair. He walked over and took the mic from Sam’s hand. “Just one more though. This one’s for JR. My viewers want to know about you and Samantha Daniels.” He glanced at Sam. “You’ve been pretty tight recently. What’s so special about her?”
Sam took a step back. Her heart hammered and her eyes flew up to JR’s face. She held her breath, wondering what he would say. Staring back at her, he looked like a volcano about to erupt. She saw something cruel flash in his green eyes.
“I don’t know what you mean, Carter.” JR leaned into the microphone. “She’s no different than any other groupie. She’ll spread her legs for anyone.”
Sam gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth. The room fell into an appalled silence. Everyone turned to stare at her. Her face blanched and her vision filled with spots. Pushing past Carter Besille, she ran from the room.
THE SPRAWLING DFW metroplex reminded Chris of southern California, minus the ocean and the palm trees of course. Both sides of the huge six lane freeway were covered with large strip malls. Concrete and buildings dominated the landscape as far as the eye could see.
The scenery gradually changed as he escaped the confines of the city, becoming more like what he imagined Texas would be. The clutter of civilization gave way to wide open spaces, rolling hills, and endless miles of barbed wire fences enclosing horses and cattle.
As his rental car meandered through the countryside, he considered how much the winding road reminded him of his life. Full of long, lonely stretches and unpredictable twists and turns. But now he had a clear goal in sight.
After nearly two hours of driving, he arrived at the Graham city limits sign, population 8,903. He smiled finding it hard to imagine Sara with her larger than life personality living in such a small town. Soon the GPS chimed in, “You have arrived at your destination on the left.” He followed the prompt, turning onto a dirt road. A couple of horses inclined their heads in his direction to watch as he passed. At the end of the drive, he spotted a one story farm house among a copse of oak trees. He parked the car and stepped out, breathing in the crisp fall country air. The house was small, maybe two or three bedrooms, but charming, painted white with red gingerbread trim and shutters. Maroon and yellow pansies filled the well-tended front flower beds, and there was a welcoming wreath on the front door.
It opened before he could knock. A diminutive grey haired woman fashionably dressed in a coordinating plum and peach pantsuit opened the door. Familiar looking grey eyes that were filled with intelligence twinkled up at him. “Howdy young man. How are you today?”
“Fine, ma’am, and you?”
“Ninety-nine and still going strong. But I’d imagine you’ve come to see my granddaughter, Chris.”
“Yes, ma’am. I have.” He raised a brow in surprise, wondering how in the world she knew. “Is Sara here?”
“Yes indeed.” She opened the door wide, gesturing for him to come in. “But she’s gone out riding. Should be back any minute.”
Chris followed her inside to the small but comfortable living room.
“Have a seat. I’ll get you some tea.”
“Oh, don’t go to any trouble on my account.”
“No trouble at all. Tea’s already made. I’ll just bring you a glass. Sit, sit,” she insisted in a deep Texas twang.
Chris sat down on the floral sofa that looked like it had probably been brand new in the sixties. Everywhere there were photographs of Sam and Sara. He smiled. Knowing their past, he was glad to see that the sisters had found a loving home here.
Maude shuffled back in the room and handed him a tumbler of iced tea. “It’s sweet tea,” she informed him as she settled into an adjacent easy chair. “I hope you don’t mind the sugar.”
“No, ma’am. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Call me Maude. Stop all that ma’am talk. That’s way too formal for friends. Has Sara told you much about her old grandma?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “I practically raised her, you know. My daughter, well, she wasn’t much on the child-rearing.”
“No, ma’am. I mean, Maude.”
She got a far- away look in her eye. “Wish Suzy had been here that night, instead of at her own place. Things would have been so much different for everyone, but,” she patted Chris’ knee, “if wishes were horses beggars would ride, wouldn’t they now?”
Chris smiled. Her feisty personality reminded him a lot of Sara. Hearing the sound of horse hooves, he turned to look out the front window.
“Here she is now.” Maude smiled knowingly, as if privy to all his secrets. “Go on out there.”
Chris nodded and walked out onto the front porch, just in time to see Sara break into a full gallop up the road astride a Palomino. Sexy as hell, sitting straight up in the saddle, her long golden brown hair streamed out behind her in the sunlight. Her long jean clad legs were wrapped around the horse, and a red plaid button-down shirt hugged her chest in all the appropriate places. Chris decided right there and then, he could get real accustomed to the sight of her like this.
Sara brought the horse around, reining up to a walk and tossing her hair back over her shoulder. When she reached the porch, she dismounted, flipping the reigns over the fence post before she crossed over to him, scowling.
Her fiery expression as she approached him almost made Chris retreat back into the safety of the house.
“Don’t be afraid, son,” Maude said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “She’s much more bark than bite.”
“What the hell are you doing here,” Sara growled, lips and cheeks red from the cold and grey eyes flashing.
“Watch your language, Sara Jo.”
“Sorry, Grams,” Sara’s tone softened and she gave her grandmother an apologetic glance.
“I came all this way just to talk to you.” Chris paused unable to resist. “Sara Jo. You kinda left without saying goodbye.”
“Sara,” Maude chided. “That’s not how I raised you.”
“Grams,” Sara said through gritted teeth. “Can you give Chris and me a minute alone?”
“Be nice to this one, Sara.” She patted Chris’ cheek. “I like him. And I’m the oldest one here and that makes me the wisest. So you’d be good to follow my advice.”
“I like you, too, Maude,” Chris said, leaning down to kiss her soft cheek.
Maude chuckled softly as she shuffled back inside.
Chris flashed his sexy as sin smile at her as the door shut behind her Gram. The snarky words she’d intended to say became lodged in her throat. Outfitted like a true Texan in tight faded Wrangler jeans, a chambray button-down shirt, and practical work boots, he was more Blake Shelton than Big Tex today.
“What are you doing here, Chris?” Sara realized Sam must have told him where to find her. She’d have to have a word with that little traitor. Still, she couldn’t believe his determination. The only way he could have gotten down here so quickly was to take the red eye flight. She shook her
head, something she found herself doing a lot about him. The man was a mystery.
“I wasn’t about to let it end that way between us. Honestly, Sara.” He took a step toward her. “You shut down on me whenever I get close. I think I deserve at least an explanation.”
She turned away from his perceptive stare and those brown eyes that could see right through all of her defenses. Tucking her riding gloves into her belt, she said quietly, “I don’t have a good one.”
“Then stop running away from me,” he said in a low voice, reaching for one of her hands and pulling her toward him. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid,” she said quickly but was unable to maintain eye contact. “Walk with me, Chris. I need to put Rena up.” Chris fell into step beside her as she led the horse down the short trail to the barn.
Once she had the mare inside the stall, Sara took off the saddle and wiped down the horse with a towel. Her eyebrows stayed knitted together as she worked. Chris leaned against the cold steel rails, watching and waiting patiently for her to speak, breathing in the competing scents of hay, oats, and animal. She was running a brush over the horse’s golden coat when she finally glanced up at him. The sadness in her eyes made him want to hold her.
“Chris, I appreciate the gesture, but I’m afraid you’ve wasted a trip. I’m sorry for how I left things with you, but I do remember specifically telling you that I can’t give you what you want.” She sighed. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She tapped her forehead. “I don’t think I’ll ever be right in the head. I don’t sleep for shit. You saw for yourself the kind of nightmares I have.”
“Sara…”
“I’m all kinds of effed up.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“Not like me.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe your stuff is a little more extreme than most.”
“You deserve better than me, Chris.” She closed the latch to Rena’s stall and started to walk past him.
Love Rock'ollection: The Brutal Strength Rock Star Trilogy, books 1-3 Page 30
