by T. I. Lowe
“You show up here one more time and I’m gonna go all redneck on your behind. The answer is no and will always be NO!!” I holler at the jerk. “Some things ain’t for sale. You need to get that through your thick head.”
“I like when you get all feisty on me. It’s sexy.” He laughs as he tries to grab hold of my hand, but I slap his away. He thinks he’s cute. He’s showed up here in my office today and won’t leave. I get out of my desk chair and walk towards him. He’s propped up on the edge of my desk like he owns the place. I have to restrain myself from shoving him off. He wouldn’t see it coming, and he would land on his butt before he knows what hits him. But I won’t do it. I stand by him and point adamantly towards the door.
“You’re pushing it, Hudson. Really pushing it.” He has me all riled up today and is loving every minute of it.
“You need a real man to take care of you, sweetheart.” He’s still teasing and I know it, but man is it ticking me off.
“Will is all I need,” I say.
All of the playfulness instantly seeps away and a somber look paints across Hudson’s features. “One of these days Will is going to grow tired of this place and leave it for greener pastures. Then you’ll be stuck here, all alone, again. You know it’s inevitable, Jillian.” He places a business card on my desk as he does every time. He taps it while looking at me sadly. “If you reconsider either one of my offers, give me a call.” Once Hudson is at the door, he turns to look at me once again. He is nearing thirty but still has that sweet boyish look he has always carried. Age is only evident in his knowing eyes. “Hopefully, it won’t be too late,” he says before leaving.
I take the card and toss it into the trash. Hudson is a great friend and he knows the economy is not in the trailer park’s favor, but I just can’t relent and sell it to him. This place is the only life I have ever known. I can’t bear the thought of it being leveled for a water park and fancy resort. Aunt Evie gave me enough cushion financially to keep this place afloat, but it has become overwhelming on how to turn things around. I can’t keep letting half the residents stay here rent free. Times are tough so I just keep doing it anyway and try to find ways to make up for the income deficient. I’m just now realizing how much weight had been on Aunt Evie’s shoulders, with having so many families depending on her to help them out. I sit here now with that same crushing weight on my shoulders.
Hudson also hounds me to no end to go on a date with him. And that is a big, fat NO. He knows I’m completely sold out to Will and totally in love with my guy. I don’t understand why Hudson doesn’t think Will is enough. Well, he absolutely is. Will has only been in my life for less than five years now, so we are still learning each other. But I can already tell you, I can’t imagine life without him. He showed up when my life was in ruins and helped me pull it back together. Will doesn’t care what my social status is in this world. He just wants me happy and to make me happy. Not to mention he is absolutely gorgeous with big blue eyes and dark hair. Now that’s my kind of guy. I smile at the idea. I guess I do have a certain type.
I wander back into my small office and try to get over Hudson ruffling my feathers today. I’ve had a tough go of it over the last several years and he knows it.
Jen barges in without knocking as she always does. She’s sipping on her addiction—coffee. “What’s your flavor of choice today?” I ask as I switch on my laptop.
“Caramel mocha,” she answers as she sits opposite of me at my desk. “What’s on the agenda now, since you ran off my eye candy?”
“Hudson walked over to the dock to mope. Why don’t you go cheer him up?” I suggest, and this sends her out the door in a flash. I hope that’s where’s he’s at. He normally walks around a bit before taking off. That should entertain her for a while. That man seems obsessed with this place. He nearly salivates during his visits.
Shimmer Lakes is a gorgeous piece of real estate, I get it. This side of the lake is still lush with an abundance of undeveloped land and wooded area. Aunt Evie gave every acre of this massive place to me. Selling it would make me an instant millionaire, but I would feel worthless for doing it. I can’t do it to this beautiful, unsoiled land, nor can I do it to the people. I know the old trailers are an eyesore, but those tin cans are people’s homes.
Once I hear the office door close, I click on the search engine on my computer. Within minutes I have pulled up the latest footage of Bleu Streak. Okay, so I admit I cyberstalk Dillon. I can’t help myself. I pull up his concert footage on YouTube weekly. I may also watch all of his interviews…
It’s been fairly easy to keep up with the band through media sites and Google. The twins are finally easy to tell apart. Mave has acquired two full sleeves of tattoos and Max only has one. Mave’s looks like all sorts of interesting stories etched along his skin, and I would love to have a conversation with him about them. Max only has one elaborate piece of sheet music dancing along his one arm. Fans go wild for the twin rock stars. The dudes have a pretty impressive following on social media, as do Trace and Logan. Dillon doesn’t even dabble in any of it. There is a Dillon Bleu fan club page on Facebook, but I seriously doubt he knows it even exists. I know all about it. I’m a member of course, and check in on the page at least once a day.
I know without a doubt, I did the right thing by letting Dillon go, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love and miss him still. That day I drove off with Cora’s words slicing my heart in two, and I hid out at Leona’s for two weeks. I did this to make sure he was forced to leave me and embark on his tour. I returned and found my note gone. Dillon left the ring with his own note. The note reminded me that I was his. I stowed the ring and note away and fell into a dark funk. The weeks that followed, I was absolutely miserable and literally stayed sick to my stomach from it. I just don’t think I will ever be over him. He’s more than my first love; he’s my dearest friend. And I miss him every day. If I sit still and close my eyes, I can picture those dimples perfectly, and my memory can recall the alluring woodsy smell of his skin. He is a part of me, and I just don’t think it’s a part I will ever get over.
I thought pushing Dillon out of my life was tough, but I had no idea how much more badly it could become until I walked into Aunt Evie’s office and found her lying on the floor, unconscious. My life finished crumbling in that abrupt flash. She had suffered a massive stroke, only five months after Dillon’s detrimental last exit. I was able to get her to the hospital, but the damage was irreversible. That determined lady held on until Kyle was able to drive the six hours from school. We both sat by her bed and watched her peacefully slip away within an hour of Kyle arriving. Never one to cause a fuss, that lovely woman left us quietly.
When a highfalutin passes away on the other side of the lake, there is always lots media coverage and public mourners quick to declare how great that person was to the world. Nothing like that happened when this great woman died. Those ignorant people have no clue that a saint left the earth that sad day. I know my dear aunt didn’t get the praise and recognition she deserved during this life on earth. But I have no doubt that Jesus met her at the gates of heaven and personally escorted her home in a grand celebration fit for a queen. And I know the crown he presented her was more luxurious and majestic than any the royalty of England has ever laid eyes on. I know he rewarded her for saving Kyle and me because that was no easy challenge. That brave woman never complained one time about having to put up with us either. She always made us feel like her own, and I doubt none that was how she viewed us.
I had to grow up fast in those dark days. Never did I think I would be planning a funeral all on my own at the age of twenty-two, or taking over a business and other responsibilities on top of that. Aunt Evie left it all to me, so I had no choice. I was terrified. Above it all, I felt so alone.
Cora made it to the funeral and wouldn’t take her eyes off of me the entire time. Every time I looked up during the service, she was watching me. This angered me, so after everyone left, she and I exchanged hu
rtful words that we will never be able to take back. And most days I wouldn’t ever care to take them back.
I gave her what she wanted—her son a fair shot at his dreams without me getting in the way. I told her she had no right to come back to smear it in my face with her designer dress and salon quality hair, while I stood in that graveyard in a thrift store dress a size too big. She seemed to be able to wash the trash off in a pretty short time.
“You just remember to stay away. Just because Evie is gone, doesn’t mean you get to go making a mess for Dillon now.” That was the last thing she said to me the very day I laid the dearest woman in my life to rest. I was just glad Aunt Evie weren’t there to hear it. I was ashamed for being so belittled like that. I wrote Cora off completely after that day.
I gave into the temptation one time since her threats that day. It was nearly two years after Aunt Evie’s death, when I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had already begun my cyberstalking. I watched Dillon transform in those first two years. He ended up keeping the mohawk for quite a long time. I guess that was his rebellion against me for rejecting him. True to his word, Max began that tour with short, spiky green hair. I often wondered how Dillon pulled that stunt off. I could just imagine him shining those dimples as he shared with me the details of it. I pure ached to hear something as silly and simple as that moment I had missed between them.
At the end of that first year, the band wrapped up their first North American tour and went back to the studio to work on their sophomore album. When they reemerged several months later, Dillon’s hair had grown back out with just a small streak of blue in the front. He looked edgy in a sexy, brooding way. The fans went crazy for his new look as well as the new album. That record was filled with heartache, and the lyrics combined with the moody melody made it an instant success. It went platinum within a month of its release.
I pulled an interview up late one night just so I could hear Dillon’s voice. It was one from the band’s promotional junkets for the new album. Dillon was asked in the interview how did such an outstanding album come to be. He said, “A broken heart is the best muse one can find.”
The young female interviewer went inappropriate with that statement in two seconds flat. “Oh baby, I could help that heart heal right up.”
Dillon gifted her with a one dimple show. “Thanks, but I’m not finished learning from this broken heart just yet.” He left it at that and made the girl swoon even more.
I had a copy of the CD delivered to me before the sales began. I cried for weeks after receiving it. I knew it was a message from him. I hurt him. Message received, loud and clear. If he knew I was doing it for his own good…
I had to go see him after that. So one weekend, Kyle was home and Will was fine hanging out with him, so I loaded up in the Mustang and drove a few hours away to Atlanta to catch a concert. I was near the middle of the crowd and was mesmerized just as much as any fan in the arena that night. Dillon’s presence on that stage was indescribable. The man owned it. Absolutely owned it. His thick black hair was styled in an edgy shag, and he was wearing a snug-fitting deep-blue Henley with the sleeves pushed up to expose the ink on his well-formed forearms. Where I stood I couldn’t make out what the designs were, but one looked like a cross and the other arm had intricate wording. Nicely-fitted dark jeans and boots completed his outfit, making him look dangerous and tempting. His electric-blue guitar was strapped around his broad shoulders, and he was working the chords like he was born to do nothing but. The female fans were swooning. I couldn’t blame them one bit. He looked larger than life and like every American girl’s rock dream.
I stood in awe as the entire venue rocked out to songs artfully interlaced with Bible verses. I seriously doubt they knew, but I guess that doesn’t matter. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years from Dillon Bleu, it’s that music weaves into the listener’s soul and really never departs. I totally get that and I bet you do, too. Have you ever heard the first few chords of a song play on the radio and know immediately what it is, even though you’ve not heard it in years? It’s as though your memory automatically brings it forward from a secret spot, and you can sing every word as you did years ago. Dillon has captivated an incredibly sized rock nation, and these fans will always hold God’s words in their hearts long after Dillon departs from the stage. The guy is a genius. This is his intentions and he masterfully pulls it off.
The songs pulled me in through the concert, and I just wanted to become part of it. And I felt that way too, with the vivacious music dancing out of the sound system and vibrating all through me. I was just as captured in the trance of the music as the rest of the fans, with my eyes closed, when I was brought out of it abruptly as the first chords of a song I had not heard in a while began rising from Dillon’s guitar. My memory recalled it instantly, and I looked up to find Dillon staring directly at me as he began singing Pearl Jam’s “Elderly Woman behind the Counter in a Small Town.” I naively thought I was hidden from his view, but he had found me. I thought about fleeing, but I was glued in my spot as he sang my favorite song. Dillon sang lyrics about trying to remember an acquaintance from the past after a long separation. The longing in his voice had sent a despairing ache straight to my soul. I felt hopeless in the middle of that concert arena.
I watched on as Dillon signaled to someone from the side of the stage during the guitar break and whisper something to them, before going back to singing. The next thing I knew, a stagehand was by my side, handing me a backstage pass and trying to escort me in that direction.
“Um. No thanks. I just want to watch from here.” I tried to yell out to him over the music. I looked back at Dillon. His head was bent to the microphone, serenading me with his eyes still on me. He nodded his head at me in a beckoning manner, but I chose to ignore it. He sang about time fading away and then returning. Saying it had been too long. I thought over those lyrics, thinking how they were being played out in reality right before me—a small-town boy stood before me as a big-time man. He had changed by not changing at all. He was different, but still felt so familiar.
I was captured in Dillon’s gaze as he sang these meaningful lyrics. He was telling me he missed me and my heart was aching, missing him too. As soon as I was in the same vicinity of him, it was like I could breathe again. Why could something that makes me feel so whole be deemed wrong? Why couldn’t I just simply love this man freely and keep him uninhibited?
The stagehand tapped me on my shoulder. Because I was so absorbed in the magnetism of Dillon in that moment, I was not listening to him. “But ma’am, you’ve been requested to accompany me backstage.”
I nodded my head in agreement, trying to appease him. “I’ll head that way in a bit. Right now I just want to enjoy the show.”
The big dude leaned down. “Can I at least escort you to the front row?”
“No thanks,” I yelled over the music again.
He stood by me the rest of the concert, for what I don’t know. Dillon proceeded to play through a Jillian’s favorite hits list it seemed the rest of the concert. The very last one he played was just a solo acoustic performance of “My Jewel.” He slightly changed the lyrics as he crooned and strummed his guitar quietly. I may have been the only one to notice.
My Jewel, my life
You’re my night and you’re my day
You’ve always been with me
Even though that’s still too far away
You don’t see us the way I do
Such a treasure
Such a jewel
I want you now and I want you always
Just a little while, my love
Just a little while
I’ll give you just a little while…
I nearly came undone in the middle of that packed arena until reality pushed its way back to me abruptly, making my heart sink. Our lives were too different now. Dillon didn’t deserve for me to interfere in his life. I knew I would only make a mess of it. Before the stagehand could stop me, I bolted t
hrough the crowd and headed for the exit. As I reached the door, I heard Dillon say in a husky voice full of determination, “I’m a patient man, Jewels.” And I guess either he is, or he’s finally moved on, because it’s been over five years since I ended things abruptly that dreadful morning.
I made a lot of bad choices in my young life and I’m not proud of it. I’ve asked God to forgive me, time and time again. I know His words say that I need only ask once for it to be granted, and our preacher backs that up in nearly every sermon. I know it’s me. I need to forgive myself. I just don’t seem worthy enough. It all goes right back to my poor white-trash roots constantly taunting me. You’re not good enough…You’re nothing…
Sometimes I get really down on myself and wish the past to be altered, but then the certainty hits that if it were, then things could have turned out so differently. Dillon wouldn’t be the rock star he was meant to be, and I’m pretty sure Kyle wouldn’t be a bigwig computer programmer in Washington D.C. today. So I’ve not lived my dream of a writer, but I’ve been blessed to see my loved ones’ dreams come true. Maybe, just maybe, one day I can get back to pursuing my own dreams, but for now I’m content just living this simple life with Will. I made a terrible mess in my youth with Dillon. I’ve vowed to make a better life with Will. Our life together is simple and good, without all of the emotional drama I’ve already endured.
I push my attention back to the present as I click on the concert video. I just watched this one last night, but I want to relive it again and try to decipher it some more. I’ve been finding some pretty unique footage lately of the band.
Last month I clicked on the London concert and was pretty surprised when the lights came up and Dillon was behind the drums, rocking out while singing into a microphone headset. The crowd went wild as he went to town on those drums while singing. The man laid ownership to any instrument placed before him. He wore a tattered hat backwards, I think to mostly help hide the microphone, but he looked so youthful. He ended that concert brilliantly with a breathtaking a cappella rendition of “Rise” by Eddie Vedder. As he climbed from behind the drums, Dillon discarded the head microphone before pulling his hat back on the correct way. He had masked his eyes completely under the rim of the hat, to my disappointment. I’ve always been able to read him better if I can see his eyes. Standing before the microphone stand, he placed his hands on top of it. Leaning in, Dillon parted his lips and the words floated out of him in a velvety melody. His deep voice echoed throughout the silent venue majestically, sending a chill over me. The song spoke about moving forward and learning from mistakes, instead of dwelling on them. He was singing about reassurance and hope for the future. I could hear the rawness in his voice, full of emotion and it caused my eyes to sting with tears. He was singing a message to someone who desperately needed to hear it. I just didn’t figure out who that was until last night.
