by RB Hilliard
Table of Contents
Evan’s Encore
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
A Note To My Readers
Acknowledgments
Evan’s Encore Playlist
Other books by RB Hilliard
Connect With RB Hilliard
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Editor: Christian Brose
Proofreader: Roxane Leblanc
Cover Model: Graham Nation
Photographer: The Glass Camera
Cover Designer: Rebel Edit & Design
Formatted by CP Smith
Copyright © RB Hilliard, 2018
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
DEDICATION
This book is for the music lovers, the die-hard rock fans, and the Melties of the world.
Rock On!
XXOO,
-RB
CHAPTER ONE
“How’s It Going to Be”
Evan
It was hard to believe my marriage was officially over. Then again, I couldn’t really call it a marriage, could I? It was more like a sham or a joke, maybe even a farce. Farce sounded about right. My marriage was a farce. At least, it was to my wife, Mandy. To me, it was nine years of my life. Nine years of living with a woman I thought I knew, but didn’t. Nine years of wasted time. The sad part was I loved her. At least, I’d tried to. She didn’t make it very easy. Truthfully, she didn’t make anything easy. I no longer loved her. Hell, I didn’t even like her. Now, all I felt was bitterness and resentment. I contemplated this as I carried the last few boxes inside the house and up the stairs to my room. The house really was amazing. Then again, a tent in the Amazon jungle would be amazing compared to the hell I’d been living in. Carefully, I placed the boxes on the floor. My new room was impressive with its pitched ceiling and ornate fireplace. I dropped onto the bed and tried not to think about my pathetic excuse for a life. The mattress felt great. At least I’d gotten that right. With a loud sigh, I pulled out my phone and dialed my brother’s number.
He answered on the first ring. “Are you moved in?”
“Somewhat,” I responded.
“Shit, that was fast.” Moving is easy when you had nothing to move.
“Yep. Listen, don’t say anything. Not to Mom and Dad, not to Elaine, not to anyone. I need time...just to let it all sink in, okay?”
“You could have moved in with me, you know.”
Of my two siblings, I was closest to my brother, Ehren. He was five years younger than me. He was also the peacemaker of the family and an all-around good person. My sister and I had never been close. Elaine was three years younger and the family princess. She was also a spoiled brat. I was the oldest of the three Walker children as well as the biggest disappointment. As much as I loved my little brother, I needed my own space, a fresh start, so to speak. Two grown men living in a one-bedroom condo, especially when one of them didn’t believe in picking up after himself, wasn’t my idea of fun. No thanks. I’d just crawled out of hell—had the scorch marks to prove it. I wasn’t looking to go back.
Trying to keep it chill, I said, “Thanks, but my days of sleeping on sofas are long gone.”
“What’s the latest on bitch face?” he asked. Ehren greatly disliked my wife. He wasn’t the only one. Our sister, Elaine, hated her to the point that four years ago, in a desperate ploy to split us up, she showed up at our house drunk off her ass screaming about how Mandy was cheating on me. The look of hurt on my wife’s face gutted me. I didn’t even question it. Instead, I got pissed at Elaine and kicked her out of my house. I never dreamed she would refuse to speak to me after that. If that wasn’t bad enough, my brother also tried to tell me she was cheating on me over Christmas break. Of course, I didn’t believe him. Just thinking about it made me feel all kinds of stupid. Hell, I was stupid.
“She’s cheating on you,” Ehren blurted. Our eyes met and held, his filled with anger and mine contempt. Not this again.
“Come on, little brother. If it didn’t work the first time, it’s not going to work now.”
“Just listen. A buddy of mine, someone I trust, swears he saw Mandy at a bar in The Woodlands a few weeks ago. She was with some dude. He said they were...together.”
Blowing out a disgusted breath, I asked, “Really, Ehren?”
“I’m not making this up, I swear—”
I held up my hand to stop him. “Were you there? Did you see it with your own eyes? Was your buddy drinking? Did he actually talk to her?” When his face clouded with doubt, I let up on the anger. “I know you want to protect me and I appreciate it, but not like this.” I loved my brother, but he could be dense sometimes.
“You’re an amazing musician, E. You always have been. Anyone who knows you, knows this. Anyone but her!” He’d gone too far.
“Don’t go there,” I warned.
After blasting me with a defiant glare, he said exactly what I didn’t want to hear. “She should have supported you.”
“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have left.”
A snort of contempt shot from his lips. “When are you going to stop blaming yourself?”
“When she forgives me.”
“When she forgives you,” he repeated, his tone filled with disgust. I knew he wasn’t a big fan of Mandy, but I didn’t realize how much he hated her.
“Look, I get that you don’t like her, but to accuse her of cheating? You’re better than that.”
“Will you at least ask her about it?”
I asked, and of course, she lied. Everything about her and our life together was a lie...
“Did you hear me?” Ehren asked.
I slowly shook off the memory. “I heard. Bobby’s supposed to call later today or tomorrow. I’ll fill you in once I’ve spoken to him.”
“Okay, well, not to be a dick or anything, but can I just point out that you’re choosing to live with a woman you’ve known for all of three seconds over your own brother. I don’t get it.” That was just it. It wasn’t his to ge
t.
Scowling at the fancy gold light fixture above my head, I informed him that Quinn and I weren’t living together, but that I was simply living in her house, and there was a vast difference between the two.”
“I can’t believe you let Mandy have the house,” he grumbled.
“Good thing I didn’t discuss it with you first,” I shot back.
“It’s just that...I find this whole thing odd.”
“Call it what you want. The fact is, Quinn lives in a house, not a one-bedroom condo. She needs a tenant, and I need a place to live. If you think about it, it’s really not that hard to grasp.”
“Fine. I’ll leave it alone.” He didn’t want to, though. He wanted answers, but how was I supposed to make him understand when I didn’t understand myself?
“Look, I don’t need your opinion on every aspect of my life. I just need your support right now. That’s all.”
“You know I’ve got your back. I just want you to be okay.” I couldn’t help but smile.
“You promise not to tell anyone?” I added.
“I promise, but for the record, I think you should talk to Chaz or Grant.” I planned on calling Chaz, just not yet. When I didn’t respond, he asked, “Now that you’ve moved in, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing,” I lied. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going to find Quinn and collect on the free drink she owed me.
The minute I hung up with Ehren, I was out the door. On the drive to Margo’s, I thought back to the first time I met Quinn. It was over that same Christmas break. I’d come home to patch things up with Mandy, and in an attempt to get my mind off my marriage troubles, Ehren, and some friends offered to take me out for drinks. The thought of going to a bar sounded great. There was just one small problem. I was no longer anonymous.
“I’ll have to borrow a baseball cap,” I told him.
“Not where we’re going, you won’t.” Grinning at my questioning look, he explained, “Jason wants to get in some chick’s pants. She works at a gen-u-ine honky-tonk. Get this, it’s called Margo’s.” He laughed at the smirk on my face. “I kid you not. We’re talking, a country bar in the middle of BFE. I doubt they’ll know who you are, much less that you’re even there. So, what do you think? Are you up for a little road trip?”
“Sure, why not?” What else was I going to do? It wasn’t as if I could hang out with my wife or anything. Nope. She had plans and wouldn’t be able to see me until tomorrow.
While Ehren made arrangements with the guys, I headed to the bathroom to get cleaned up. As I made my way down the hall, I couldn’t help but smile. Little brother had done well for himself. After becoming an official member of Meltdown, I called and offered to help him financially. When he declined, I thought it was out of pride. Now I knew better. He was making his own way and I couldn’t be prouder of him.
My heart kicked in my chest when I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket. Mandy? I thought, as I reached for it. When I saw Chaz’s name scroll across the screen, I gave myself a mental slap. You’re going to see her tomorrow. Stop being such a pussy.
Chaz’s text read: You coming to Austin for G’s thing?
Grant and his girlfriend, Mallory, were throwing a Christmas party at their house in Austin. Mallory didn’t know, but Grant was proposing to her. I’d been invited but had declined.
“Hey, E! You ready?” Ehren called down the hallway.
“Be there in a few!” I called back, then quickly responded to Chaz’s text—No. Got shit to deal with here.
As I opened the bathroom door, he responded back. She ain’t worth it, bro. She, meaning Mandy. In a moment of weakness, I’d told Chaz about my failing marriage. To say the guy was opinionated was a gross understatement. Try a relentless dickhead. It was a damn good thing he was on my side.
Have you heard from Nash? I typed in response. Right before we went on tour, our lead guitarist, Nash, discovered his mother’s cancer had returned. The prognosis wasn’t good.
Chaz responded right when I reached the living room. Nah. Gotta run.
Later. I replied.
“All good?” Ehren asked.
“Yep. All good.”
My brother wasn’t lying about my not needing to worry about getting recognized. Somewhere between downtown Houston and nowheresville was a roadside bar called Margo’s.
“You said off the beaten path, not in another country,” I teased as we pulled into the gravel parking lot. Cars, trucks, and motorcycles were lined up across the lot. I heard the music as soon as I opened my car door. Little did anyone know, but I was a country music fan way before I ever got into rock.
While Waylon and Willie warned mamas about letting their babies grow up to be cowboys, we waited for my brother’s friends to arrive.
“Why here?” I asked.
“I told you, Jason has a crush on one of the bartenders,” he replied, right as his friends pulled into the lot. We waited for them to catch up to us before going inside.
“Holy shit!” Jason shouted. “We thought you were kidding when you said Evan was coming.” He turned to me with an expression of adoration on his ugly mug and I couldn’t help but feel like a bug under a microscope. Jerking his hand out, he gushed, “Fuck, you’re like awesome, man.”
“Thanks.” I had a feeling this would never get any easier. Not for me, at least. I shook both his and Mike’s hands. Kenny Chesney’s “Summertime” was just starting up as we stepped inside. At first glance, the place seemed smaller than it appeared from the outside. A long, dark wooden bar took up the entire right wall, large metal booths filled the left, and in the middle sat free standing hi-top tables surrounded by barstools. Beyond the tables, bar, and booths, the floor opened up into a decent-sized dance floor. In true honky-tonk fashion, the floor was covered with straw and peanut shells.
Several sets of eyes watched as we wound our way past the hi-tops toward one of the empty booths. I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught. First would come the gasps, followed by the whispers, and last the shrieks. When none of the above occurred, I slowly released it.
“Told you,” Ehren muttered as we slid into an empty booth. A giant mason jar filled with peanuts sat on one end of the table. While reaching for it, I became aware of a mouthwatering aroma.
“What’s that smell?” I asked.
Jason’s face split into a smile. “Sam’s cooking.”
Staring down at the cup rings on the table, I fought back a cringe. “Well, Sam sure could to do a better job of cleaning off his tables.”
“Quinn’s the owner,” Mike informed me. As far as I was concerned, a dirty table was a dirty table, no matter who it belonged to.
“Well, then Quinn sure could use a new busboy,” I corrected.
“Sorry, but Quinn is up to her eyeballs in customers right now,” a sexy, throaty, very female sounding voice replied.
As I shifted my gaze to the woman standing at the head of our table, the apology dangling from the tip of my tongue stalled beneath her light blue stare. No, scratch that. They were light gray. Exotic. Striking. Gray. The face they belonged to was delicate...femininity at its finest. Both of these attributes were almost outdone by a wild, untamed mane of brown curls streaked with gold.
“What can I get you boys to drink?” she asked. Her gaze touched on my brother before moving to Mike and then to Jason. This gave me a moment to take in her tight black T-shirt with the Margo’s logo in bold, red letters across her chest. Shifting my focus from her chest back to her face, I tried to place her age. Her body said early twenties but the way in which she carried herself said she was older.
“We’ll start with a pitcher of Bud,” Jason answered. “Oh, and some of those amazing nachos.”
Two finely shaped eyebrows rose in question. “You sure? The nachos are good, but our burgers are better.”
“Sorry, but nothing beats your nachos.”
“I’ll tell Sam you said so.” Her eyes slid from Jason back to me and her mouth shifted in
to a smile. In a teasing tone, she said, “I’ll also make sure to get my busboy over here pronto.” It wasn’t the sarcastic cut of the words that caught my attention, though. It was her smile. It lit up her whole face. It felt like an invitation to something deeper...something more.
“Uh, is Alex-Ann here?” Jason asked, his voice an octave higher than usual. My eyes sliced to my brother’s friend. Someone needed to give the boy his balls back.
“She’s off tonight, darlin’,” Quinn responded. “but I’ll be happy to tell her you stopped by...errrr—”
“Jason,” he squeaked.
“Jason,” she repeated in her sexy southern drawl. Then, winking at me, said, “The busboy will be right with you.”
Five minutes later, long enough for us to properly harass Jason, Quinn returned with a pitcher of beer, four mugs, and...a wet hand towel. As I watched her clean our table, I felt like an ass.
“Sorry about the earlier comment,” I muttered before she could get away.
“No worries, sport. They were just words.” She hit me with that gorgeous smile before walking away. She wasn’t wrong. They were just words, but if anyone knew the damage that words could inflict, it was me.
After a few beers and some of the best nachos I’d ever tasted, Jason and Mike led us off to a hidden corner room where we played pool and threw some darts. Ehren and I called it quits around midnight. With back slaps and handshakes, we said goodbye to his friends. On the way to the door, I searched for Quinn and found her standing next to a table with a pen and order pad in hand. She glanced my way and acknowledged my departure with a slight lift of her chin. I responded with a smile of thanks. For a brief moment I’d forgotten that my marriage was falling apart. I’d forgotten how good it felt to be able to hang with friends and be myself. It felt good to forget...
It was hard to believe that was eight months ago—back when life seemed rough but actually wasn’t—back before the rug was jerked out from under my life.
Only two cars and a motorcycle were in the parking lot when I pulled into Margo’s. Quinn wasn’t kidding when she said Sunday was a slow night. I paused to roll up my windows before turning off the car. Music greeted me as I opened my door and stepped out into the night. As I made my way across the gravel lot, the hopelessness I’d been feeling began to lift. That’s what music did for me. It soothed the raw edges. Fuck knows there were plenty of those.
