In Bed with the Devil: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

by Tia Siren

  “Thank you, Darren. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Before he could give an adequate goodbye, I hung up.

  I found my dad’s phone number and called it. It rang and rang, and all I wanted was for him to pick up and tell me that Darren was playing a sick joke on me.

  Instead, it went to voicemail:

  “You’ve reached Wayne Wright. I’m not available, but if you leave your name and message, I’ll return your call as soon as possible. Thanks.”

  I hung up and tried him again. Again, it rang until it couldn’t anymore, and went to voicemail. I hung up and tried him again.

  I became so afraid. If my dad didn’t answer my call the first time, he always picked up the second or third time, no matter what was going on. I wondered if maybe he was not feeling well, and maybe he didn’t have his phone on him.

  Then, as I kept calling my dad’s cell, I looked up one of the phone numbers that had tried to call me earlier.

  My heart sank: Rome City Hospital.

  I couldn’t bear to call the hospital back. Instead, I kept calling my dad as the night went on.

  I finally broke when, at about two in the morning, his phone no longer rang. It went straight to voicemail, meaning that the phone had died. Then, somehow, I knew for an absolute fact that Darren hadn’t lied to me. I was lost and confused.

  Chapter 5

  Darren

  After the phone call I’d had with Bailey on Saturday night, I didn’t hear back from her at all until Monday morning.

  She texted me:

  “I’m flying into Atlanta around noon. Coming to Rome to arrange my dad’s funeral.

  “I’m not sure if you’re comfortable with this… but do you think you could meet me at the funeral home? I want to talk with you.”

  I quickly replied with, “Of course. Do you have an address?”

  She answered with, “712 Mabel St.”

  I’d answered her without giving it a second thought. I was sure that there would be some awkward tension at first once we saw each other again, but I was willing to deal with it. I felt like I was still a part of this, somehow.

  I’d texted her around 1:00, asking if she was making her way to Rome yet. When she didn’t answer, I decided to head over to the funeral home so that she wouldn’t arrive to nothing but her father’s body.

  I got to Garrison Brewster’s Funeral Home on 712 Mabel at about a quarter till two. There was only one car in the parking lot, and the building looked old. This place had been in Rome since before I was born, like many of the places in town.

  I walked into the funeral home and saw a mahogany coffin resting along a wall. It was closed, but I knew who was inside it. It was odd knowing that only two days prior, I had planned on having a nice meal with the man in that coffin, and now he was dead. It helped underline how fleeting life was.

  I stood near the coffin for several minutes before the funeral director finally greeted me. He appeared to be a nice enough man, but his suit was old and worn enough that I wondered if he’d taken it from one of the people he helped bury. He smelled like one of the people he helped bury, too.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” he said to me. “I hope you’re doing well, despite whatever has brought you here today.”

  “I’m here for Wayne Wright,” I stated.

  “Ah, yes,” he said with lament. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss, sir. My condolences.”

  “Thank you.”

  “My understanding is that Mr. Wright’s wishes were to be cremated,” said the funeral director. “Will there be a service after the viewing?”

  “I—I assume that.”

  “I apologize,” he said. “This is a difficult time for you, I’m sure. Would you like a few minutes?”

  “I—”

  I wasn’t sure how to go about it. It felt strange to be there on my own, looking around and seeing no family or friends. I realized that many people in Wayne’s life likely didn’t even know he had passed away, but it didn’t stop me from feeling incredibly sad. I hated the idea of lying dead in a coffin with no one around me but a funeral director who had buried thousands of people before me.

  “Will any other family be arriving today?” he asked me.

  “Well, I’m not family,” I corrected him. “I’m not his son, or nephew, or anything. I’m a friend.”

  “Oh, my,” he said embarrassed. “I’m terribly sorry. Forgive me. I did think you were family.”

  “I’ve known him for most of my life,” I said. “I’m actually the one who found him at his house.”

  “Good Lord,” he gasped. “That must have been terrible to come upon.”

  “It was,” I assured him. “His daughter, Bailey, she should be here soon to answer any questions you have about arrangements.”

  “I appreciate it,” he said. “So sorry for your loss, again.”

  I sat in a chair near the coffin, playing senselessly on my phone, not focusing or caring about what I was doing. My mind was in overdrive wondering about Bailey and where she was. There was a small part of me that wanted to bolt, to get away and not face whatever wrath she might be harboring.

  When last I saw her, she’d had tears in her eyes. She wanted me to go to Tennessee with her desperately, and I sincerely didn’t want to leave our small town that I had grown accustomed to and knew like the back of my hand. I’d been able to keep the tears from falling down my face, and that suppression didn’t stop on the day she left. Now, as fate was finally bonding us back together, I grew weary. I’d never wanted to see Bailey cry again, and I felt sure that coming to see her dead father would be more than enough to supply fresh tears.

  I heard a car pull up near the funeral home. I heard one door slam and then another. I was sure that it was her, and I speculated quickly about who had closed the second car door. I expected to be greeted by her and potentially a boyfriend. That idea made me wearier than the idea of her crying.

  Then, Bailey Wright walked into the funeral home. Fortunately, she wasn’t crying. But, she may as well have been.

  I quickly got to my feet. I hadn’t seen her in over six years. It was like I was seeing her for the first time, and yet; it was like those six years of missing time had never gone by. She was both new and refreshingly familiar. It was clear that the years had touched her features, but her beauty was as clear and captivating as ever.

  She still had her long sandy blonde hair. Back in the day, her hair used to fall down all the way to her ass. Now, her hair approached the center of her back, and the bangs she used to have were gone. Her eyes were still the color of a night ocean—reflective, dark blue and mesmerizing. She was in the best shape I’d ever seen her in. She was skinny, athletic, curvaceous, and had confidence and direction exuding from within. Her full lips were closed, her eyesight was on me, and it was difficult to read her.

  Beside her was a woman that I didn’t recognize. She looked to be in her early to mid-thirties, had nice curly brown hair, and a piercing stare. She was definitely a friend, and out of the two of them, she appeared to be the most affected by walking through the doors of a funeral home.

  Both Bailey and I licked our lips, trying to find the right words to say. When the ladies got up to me, there were silent, yet palpable, exchanges going on between all of us, individually. I looked down at my foot more times than I’d care to admit.

  “Hey, Bailey,” I said.

  “Hey” Bailey said.

  She brushed her gorgeous blonde hair as far away from her eyes as she could. With hearing only one word escape her inviting lips, I was reminded of why she’d so often strayed my mind over the past many years.

  “Darren,” began Bailey. “This is Leah. She’s my closest friend in the world.”

  “And also her manager,” said Leah as she extended her hand. I shook it.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said to Leah.

  Bailey’s eyes moved to the coffin I was standing near.

  “Is that him?” she asked me.

  I weak
ly nodded. “Yes.”

  There was a pause, followed by Leah stepping aside to look at her phone.

  “Do you think I could speak with you outside?” Bailey asked me as she played with her hair again.

  “Yeah, of course,” I said with gusto.

  While Leah stayed behind with Wayne, Bailey and I went just outside the doors to the funeral home, barely escaping the carport.

  She cleared her throat. “I realize this is blunt, or may sound uncharacteristically straightforward of me, but I want to know what it was like when you found my dad.”

  Even with her warning, I still felt like I was caught off guard.

  “I’m curious,” she continued. “Why did you go over to his house? When was the last time y’all talked? Just, I want some clarity.”

  “Well,” I began. “I ran into your father down at Chelsea’s the other night. We got to talking and catching up, and he said he wanted to get together again. Said he’d make us dinner.”

  She was nodding, arms crossed, not looking directly at me.

  “I called his phone a few times before I was going to show up to see if we were still on,” I continued. “After a while of him not answering, I started to get concerned. So, I went over to his place. The door was unlocked, so I went in. I found him there on the floor. I tried to wake him. I took him to the hospital as fast as I could, but—”

  “They said he was gone already,” finished Bailey.

  “Yeah,” I confirmed. “Then, I only got here about twenty minutes or so before you did. The guy was asking me questions. I guess he thought I was his son.”

  I attempted to chuckle, and even that was awkward. I looked back down at my shoes, resisting the urge to stare into Bailey’s soft blue eyes.

  “I’m holding the funeral tomorrow,” said Bailey. “Anyone who’s going to be there is here in Georgia, so it’s not like people need much notice. The preacher will say some things, and I’ll say some things. I guess that’ll be it. Will you be there?”

  “Of course, I’ll be there,” I replied.

  “Good,” she said. “He’d have wanted you to be there.”

  I was surprised by how well she was handling the situation. It wasn’t just better than I expected she would, but it was more mature. Bailey was always mature for her age, but I knew how much her dad had meant to her, and I was fully anticipating an extreme explosion of emotions. I not only wouldn’t have blamed her, but I was actually equipped to handle it.

  “How long will you be in town for?” I asked her.

  “Till Wednesday,” she answered. “I’m only back here for my dad’s funeral. Honestly, after the funeral, I don’t think I’ll have any real reason to ever come back to Rome, Georgia.”

  “Well, it is your hometown,” I stated, feeling stupid as I said it.

  “Right, it’s where I came from,” she said. “It’s the past. I have a life in Memphis.”

  “From the look of the charts, you’ll be able to have whatever kind of life you want in any place you want,” I said.

  “You could’ve had that life, too, you know,” she said with raised eyebrows.

  I chuckled. “Yeah, well, this ain’t just my past. I don’t mind it here too much.”

  We stood in silence for several seconds. The wind played with her hair for her. All I wanted to do was ask if she wanted to go out for a meal together.

  “So,” I said.

  “You can go, you know,” said Bailey. “I appreciate you coming here like this. I’ll take things from here. Thank you, Darren.”

  I didn’t question her dismissal, even though I did feel slightly offended with the brushing off. I wanted to stay there, be there for her, even if I hadn’t been there for her since she left Rome.

  “You’re welcome, Bailey,” I said with a wave.

  As I turned and headed toward my car, I lamented on how things hadn’t changed. She was still going to be leaving Rome for Tennessee, and I would still be here. I didn’t look back, but I could feel her ocean eyes burning into the back of my head. Even if it danced into selfish territory, I knew that I had to speak with her again after her dad’s funeral. I had a whole day to figure out what to say and how to say it.

  Chapter 6

  Bailey

  Darren walked back to his car without a fight and without looking back. He was still just as laid back as I’d remembered him to be. He also seemed taller than I remembered.

  He still had his muscular physique and rugged good looks. I wasn’t sure how much he actually worked out, but it was clear that moving all those A/C units had kept him in exceptional shape. He was about 6’3”, still had his shaggy brown hair and his soft, light green eyes. When I saw him last, he was clean-shaven and had short hair. Now, his hair was a few inches longer, and he had nicely trimmed facial hair, with an impressive beard, which was weird to see on him, but not necessarily a bad thing. He’d had a treble clef note tattooed on his right arm, but I wasn’t able to see it through his shirt. I wondered if he had any new tattoos.

  “He is fine as hell,” Leah muttered quietly behind me. “I might have to find me a guy down here. He’s better looking than every man who’s ever bought me a drink in Memphis.”

  “Every man in Memphis?” I asked skeptically.

  “Look, don’t take this the wrong way,” she said. “But, I thought guys that lived in this part of the country were all going to be fat hicks that didn’t bathe. That guy could be a model. What was his name, again?”

  We both watched as he drove away in his car. It looked like a Ford Focus.

  “Darren,” I answered.

  “You should invite him out for drinks tonight,” she said elbowing me. “If you don’t want him, I’ll gladly sit on his face.”

  “Leah!” I exclaimed.

  She shrugged. “What? I like him. He looks tasty.”

  Ignoring her remarks, I decided to face the music and go back into the funeral home to speak with the director about arrangements. He came over once he saw Leah and me standing beside the coffin that held my father’s body.

  “Would you like to open it?” he asked me.

  When we were coming over, I intended to look at my father one last time before I was to have him cremated. But, as I stood only inches away from the box that concealed him, I couldn’t bear to see him without life filling him. I shook my head, fighting to hold back tears. Leah put her arm around me.

  “There will be a service tomorrow morning?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “I ordered a headstone for him next to my grandparents over at the cemetery across the street.”

  “Okay,” he nodded. “Where will the service be held?”

  “I don’t care,” I replied. “Whatever church is closest.”

  “That’ll be St. Violet’s over on Twin Street,” he said. “Is that okay?”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “Just do it. I just want it done.”

  I wasn’t sure what exactly it was that sent me over, but I was struggling to hold it together. I stared at my father’s coffin, wishing that it would pop open and my dad would grab me and wrap me in a bear hug, assuring me that everyone was just playing a sick practical joke on me. Maybe he, Darren, and the funeral director were all working to try and bring me back to Rome to be back with the people I loved and missed. I was willing to move back to Rome for the rest of my days if it meant having one more day with my dad.

  “I will take good care of him, Ms. Wright,” the funeral director said. “Would you like any brochures printed out, or any sort of—”

  “I’ll email you with all the details later,” I told him. “Please be careful with him.”

  My lip quivered. I had to stop staring at the coffin in blind, impossible hope. I hugged Leah, squeezing out as much sadness as I could.

  “If I may say,” said the funeral director. “I wish you luck in all of your musical endeavors. You’re on your way to the top. I can tell.”

  I sniffed, wanting to laugh and enjoy how yet another person recogni
zed me without really knowing me.

  I put on a fake smile. “Thank you.”

  “My niece loves your music,” he continued. “You’re going to be a superstar—bigger than Kelly Clarkson, bigger than Celine Dion!”

  As he continued to sing my praises, my mind was lingering on the last phone call that I’d had with my dad. To say that I was feeling remorseful would have been an understatement. I hated myself for rushing through our last phone call. I despised myself for ending the call to go and work in the damn studio.

  Now, I had none of my grandparents and neither of my parents. I didn’t feel old. I felt alone.

  Leah and I went to a nearby diner called Floyd’s. I used to go to Floyd’s with friends all the time back in the day, Darren included, and I just wanted to be in a familiar place. I wanted to eat somewhere that I didn’t associate with my dad though. He never liked Floyd’s.

  Whenever I went to Floyd’s, I never ate and ran. I always spent at least two hours there, and most of that time was spent talking with company.

  “Nice place,” Leah commented about Floyd’s.

  I sipped my milkshake, wondering if anyone else was going to come up to me and recognize me. I was grateful that no one was approaching me.

  “I keep expecting someone to come up and ask you for your autograph,” said Leah.

  “I hope that doesn’t happen,” I said. “If someone tries to talk to me about music, I’m going to look like an asshole. I’m not in any shape to talk about something trivial.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “I know you’re upset, Bailey, but your career is ‘trivial’?”

  I groaned. “You know what I mean. Priorities, you know?”

  She nodded. “So, what is it about this place that you hate?”

  “I don’t hate Floyd’s,” I said.

  “Not Floyd’s,” she said. “I mean Rome. What is it about this town that you dislike? I kind of like it around here. It’s quiet, cute.”

  “I don’t hate Rome,” I told her. “I don’t even dislike it. But there’s nothing for me here. All I had was my dad, and he never made me come back here. He always visited me wherever I was.”