In Bed with the Devil: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

by Tia Siren

  “Did you leave because of the guy?”

  I rolled my eyes. “What guy?”

  “You know fucking well what guy,” she said and laughed. “That beautiful man I met earlier today. What’s the story between you two?”

  “I never told you about him?” I asked.

  Leah laughed. “Are you kidding me? I hardly know anything about your past. You never talk about Rome. You’ve never talked to me about that guy. Hell, you never mention anything that happened before you moved to Memphis. I know a lot about what kind of person you are, and I love that person. But, as far as where you came from? You could’ve been a serial killer for all I know.”

  I laughed. “Nah, I was selling meth before I met you.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “No!” I assured her. “I thought you knew me! I was joking.”

  “Tell me about your past then.”

  “There’s not much to tell,” I replied. “I’ve told you about my parents. I had a good childhood, and they both encouraged me to stay with music. I was really shy when I was young, so I usually hung out in town with my friends and did nothing, you know? When I picked up music seriously, that’s when I knew I had to leave. My life really started in Memphis.”

  “And Darren?” she asked. “He wasn’t just close to you, was he?”

  “He was close to my whole family,” I said. “My dad loved him. All my friends here loved him, too. Everyone thought we were supposed to be together.”

  “You guys weren’t together?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “Darren was my best friend for years growing up. We never officially dated or anything. We kind of tried to see where things could go near the end of my time here.”

  “Nice,” said Leah.

  “But,” I continued, “he didn’t want to come with me, and I didn’t want to come back here after I left. I hadn’t seen him since I moved. Today was the first time I’ve seen him in years.”

  “So, you don’t know if he’s single or not?” she asked. “I’ve been wondering. Maybe I’ll kidnap him and take him back to Memphis with us.”

  “Okay,” I said with a strange knot in my stomach. “This is not something I want to talk about with everything that’s going on.”

  “So, you still have feelings for him?”

  “No,” I said quickly without thinking. “I—it was weird seeing him again. It’s been six years. I couldn’t possibly still have feelings for him. I just don’t want to think about my current best friend hooking up with my old best friend. It’s weird and gross.”

  “I don’t think it’d be gross at all.” Leah chuckled mischievously.

  “The point is,” I said as if I didn’t hear her, “when I left, I had no intention of ever coming back. I thought I’d buy a big house for my dad. He could’ve retired, grown old and lived the life he deserved. Instead, he died on the floor of our old house, alone, after I blew him off for work.”

  “You can’t blame yourself, Bailey,” said Leah. “You couldn’t have known your dad was going to pass away like that. Your dad loved you, and he was super proud of you. Remember that.”

  I did remember that, and that wasn’t going to leave me. What bothered me was that I didn’t know whether my dad knew how much I cared about him.

  My dad knew that I loved him, but there was always a part of me that feared he’d been hurt when I left my hometown to try and “chase the dream.” I wondered if others in Rome had taken it personally when I left, but I only truly cared what my dad thought. It pained me to think that he’d died thinking I wanted to get away from him.

  I wasn’t trying to get away from my dad, the house I grew up in, or even Darren. Rome wasn’t a place that could birth the kind of career that I wanted. Most people in northwest Georgia didn’t even listen to the kind of music I wanted to make. I could have found a job in Rome, settled down and been content with being surrounded by my friends and dad. But I wouldn’t have been happy.

  I became even unhappier when realizing what was waiting for me at St. Violet’s that next day.

  Chapter 7

  Darren

  Bailey had texted me late on the day we’d seen each other, and she told me that her father’s funeral was to be held at St. Violet’s that next morning. I wondered how many people were going to be able to show up on such short notice and on a Tuesday.

  But, as I drove past St. Violet’s, about an hour before the funeral, I already saw many cars and trucks parking outside the church, with people of all ages exiting them dressed in funeral attire. I knew Wayne was liked, but this proved how many people he’d touched. I contemplated going into the church, but I wasn’t ready.

  So, I decided to go chill with Garrett at his place for a while first. I sat on his couch, sipping a beer in my suit and tie, mindlessly staring at his TV.

  “How’d it go with Bailey yesterday?” Garrett eventually asked me.

  “It was brief,” I answered. “She was acting differently than I expected.”

  “In a bad way?”

  “No, just not how I expected. She’s still the Bailey I used to know, but not—at the same time—if that makes any sense.”

  “I think I get you,” said Garrett.

  “Today’s going to be rough on her, I know it,” I said. “I’ll probably break down too, ain’t gonna lie. I hate seeing her upset.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t go,” he suggested.

  “I want to be there,” I assured him. “He was close to me, too. I’m not going just for Bailey.”

  “Would she be offended if I came along?” Garrett asked.

  “No, of course not,” I told him. “You’ve been my bro forever. And, she knows you. The more, the merrier, I say. Plus, pro tip: Bailey has a cute friend with her.”

  “Awesome!” he said. “I don’t have a suit.”

  “Just wear something nice,” I said.

  While Garrett was changing into his nicer clothes, I debated whether to drink something heavier before we left for the church. It wasn’t just because I didn’t handle death well, but I was already dreading the notion that I’d see Bailey yet again, and it would only be temporary.

  I decided against hard liquor and chose water instead. Once he was presentable, Garrett drove us to the church.

  When we got to the funeral, Bailey was at the entrance greeting people as they arrived. When Garrett and I walked up to her, we all stood there, unsure of what to do.

  At first, I went for a handshake, but she moved my hand away, and we embraced. I held her tight, not wanting to let her go. The six years of silence were irrelevant at that moment. All that mattered was that I was there for her.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said after we finally stopped our hug.

  “Thanks for having me,” I said to her. “I assume you have no problem with me bringing this guy with me?”

  I motioned to Garrett, who she smiled at.

  “Of course not,” she said, pulling Garrett into a hug. They embraced for a few seconds, and then she let him go.

  “I’m sorry about your dad, Bailey,” said Garrett.

  “Me too,” she said. “Thank you both, for being here. You can find a seat anywhere.”

  It was no surprise to me that she didn’t want to have a full, meaningful conversation at that moment. I was also grateful because despite having a day and night’s time of preparation, I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to her.

  We found our seats in the pews fairly close to the front of the church. There were over a hundred people there, all there to send Wayne off. Most people had their eyes to the front, and while most of those eyes were dry, there was heavy sadness behind them. I recognized a few people as family of Bailey’s, some as friends of Wayne’s, but most of the faces in the crowd were unfamiliar to me. It was powerful to see how many people one man could impact.

  Garrett played on his phone while my mind wandered. I was afraid I wouldn’t even have a chance to talk with Bailey, and I wondered if that was for the best
.

  Even as the preacher stood at his pulpit and the funeral began, I couldn’t maintain focus. The preacher’s words were kind, but they were empty because he’d never known Wayne the way that any of the people in the crowd did.

  My attention went fully to the front when the preacher ushered Bailey to come forward and speak. She stepped from her pew and stood where the preacher had stood. She cleared her throat, looking out to the crowd at no one in particular.

  “Thank you all for being here today,” said Bailey. “My father would be so happy to know that so many were here.”

  She paused, evidently to collect herself. She cleared her throat again, but this time, her voice was accompanied by fast tears streaming down her perfect cheeks.

  “My dad was the kindest man I’ve ever known,” she said. “He always believed in my dreams, and he always encouraged everyone to do what they loved in life. He was strong, caring, and I miss him.”

  As Bailey broke down, I could hear many in the crowd breaking down with her. Garrett and I exchanged sad looks. He patted me on the shoulder, and I reciprocated.

  Bailey shook her head, wiping tears from her face as she stepped down, unable to continue. She went back to her seat, falling into the comforting arms of Leah and other friends of hers.

  The preacher went back to his position. “Would Wayne’s sister Elaine like to say a few words?”

  We all looked to the front, where an older woman who looked like a female Wayne shook her head once.

  The preacher nodded. “Is there anyone in this congregation who would like to say a few words in Wayne’s memory?”

  People looked around, waiting for someone to volunteer. I looked toward Bailey, feeling her sadness fill up the chapel.

  Just as the preacher was about to move on, I stood up.

  “I’d like to speak, if it’s okay with Bailey,” I proclaimed.

  Bailey turned around, her face wet with tears, nodding at me in affirmation. I left my seat and walked up beside the preacher. I looked over at the coffin behind me, although I was pretty sure it was empty now, merely a representation of his body as it was to be cremated. I looked out at the crowd:

  “Wayne Wright was a Georgia man. He was born here, lived his whole life here, and he tragically died here—far too young. But even though his years were cut unfairly short, the years he had were well spent. He was loved—by family, friends, just about anyone that met him. And, he didn’t have any regrets. He was a hard worker, and he always encouraged anyone around him to try and work as hard as he did, if not harder.

  “I knew Wayne for most of my life. If you were friends with his daughter, you were certainly friends with him. He always found something nice to say about anyone— even the people he didn’t really like all that much.”

  There was some light chuckling in the crowd. Bailey even cracked a smile.

  “He was a kind and caring person,” I said. “And, he’ll be deeply missed. I think I’m not just speaking for me, or his family. Wayne’s departure leaves a gap, but let’s try not to fill it with remorse. Let’s try and fill it the way he’d want us to.”

  I stepped down, avoiding Bailey’s gaze. I rejoined Garrett in our pew as the funeral proceeded.

  All of Wayne’s visitors had left the cemetery, leaving only me. I stood at the burial site where Wayne’s headstone was, wondering where he was at that moment and what he was doing. I wanted to believe that somehow, someway, he’d been able to hear my words at his service.

  Someone that I know had heard me was his daughter. Bailey came up to me, standing only a few inches behind me. We were both staring at the headstone.

  “It still doesn’t feel real,” she said.

  “You’ve got that right,” I concurred.

  “Thank you,” she said to me.

  “For what?”

  “For helping me up there,” she replied. “What you said was so beautiful. I couldn’t have said any of that better myself.”

  “I doubt that miss singer-songwriter,” I said, grinning as I turned to her.

  “I’m serious,” she insisted. “I couldn’t even talk, let alone dictate a word of how I felt. You spoke like you’d written all that down beforehand.”

  “I didn’t,” I said.

  “I believe you.”

  We turned back to look at Wayne’s headstone. I wondered where Garrett had gotten to, but I knew he could take care of himself.

  “So, what time’s your flight tomorrow?” I asked her.

  “I don’t know yet,” she answered. “I haven’t booked a flight yet.”

  “Hmm.” I nodded.

  “It’s so weird,” she said. “Both of my parents are gone forever. If I sell the house, it’ll be like they were never here. No trace of them will remain.”

  “That’s not true,” I said. “You’re proof enough of their impact.”

  “I’m proof that they existed,” she said. “They were so much better than I’ll ever be.”

  “I respectfully disagree, ma’am,” I said forcefully. “You work hard. You’re smart, caring, brave, beautiful. You’re determined, and you stick to your guns. If you ask me, you’re almost exactly like your parents.”

  She grinned. “It’s hard to argue with that evidence. Thanks, Darren.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  We stood there for several minutes, not saying a word. I didn’t want to ruin the moment, so once I realized it was coming to an end, I decided to start walking back toward St. Violet’s where Garrett’s car was parked.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  I stopped. “Home, I guess. You?”

  “I have no damn idea,” she replied. “I can’t go back to the hotel or to my dad’s house. I need to be out doing something to distract myself.”

  I spotted an open window. But, with her leaving soon, I didn’t want to risk hurting either of us.

  I gave a sympathetic smile. “You should show Leah around town if you haven’t already. Give her a grand tour. Shouldn’t take forever.”

  She laughed. “Right.”

  “I’m sorry about your dad,” I said. “I hate that it was under these circumstances, but it was good to see you again.”

  “Yeah, same to you,” she said.

  I continued on my walk, unsure of how far behind me she was.

  Once I’d returned to Garrett’s car, I was puzzled when I noticed that the car was without its owner. I began to write out a text to Garrett, and as I was about to send it, I noticed that he was in the front lobby of the church talking with a few people, Bailey’s friend Leah being one of them.

  “So, I was wondering.”

  I jumped back, nearly out of my skin, startled by the voice and the person it belonged to. Bailey had walked up to me, and I didn’t even know it.

  “I’m sorry!” she said.

  “Don’t be,” I said trying to catch my breath. “Wow, you sure know how to walk quietly.”

  “I guess so,” she laughed. “Listen, I was just curious. Since I’m still here, I was wondering if maybe you’d let me take you out for dinner tonight.”

  “You want to take me out?” I asked. “The girl doesn’t usually ask the guy out.”

  “I know, but in this case, I’m making an exception,” said Bailey.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “That sounds good. Where would you like to go? We could go to Floyd’s. You haven’t been in six years.”

  “I hadn’t been in six years,” she corrected me. “I took Leah there yesterday.”

  “Oh,” I said deflated.

  “But, I can always go back to Floyd’s. You know that,” she said. “Let’s go there.”

  “Okay!” I said. “Well, just text me whenever you want to meet there.”

  “Okay,” she said and bit her lip. “I’ll see you, Darren.”

  And just like that, the somber and grey day had found a warm, promising light.

  Chapter 8

  Bailey

  After I’d said goodbye to the final g
uest at the funeral, Leah helped me clean up at the church. She’d offered to take me to a nearby bar and have some “farewell shots” for my dad, but I didn’t feel like doing anything.

  We went to my dad’s house together. We’d contemplated having food served at the house for the guests that had come to the funeral, but had decided against it. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to pay for food, far from it. I just didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore that day about my dad. I felt exhausted from the whole ordeal and didn’t want to subject myself to any further strain.

  We sat, and I reminisced about my childhood and what it was like to grow up in the old house. Whenever my dad entered the conversation, it was always in a light manner that didn’t make me dwell on my regrets.

  A regret that I had that was unrelated to my father’s funeral was the invitation I’d made to Darren. Soon after he’d left the cemetery, I’d texted him and told him we’d meet at Floyd’s at 6:00. But, as 6:00 drew near, I began to feel twinges of fear.

  Whenever I felt those twinges and fell silent, Leah would typically take over conversation or find something to look at on TV.

  “Darren’s friend was nice,” said Leah. “He was cute, too.”

  I nodded absentmindedly.

  “He said he’d known you for a long time,” said Leah. “Garrett was saying we should all go out for drinks sometime before we go back to Memphis.”

  The TV was playing a commercial for paper towels.

  “I found myself jotting down lyrics on my phone earlier,” said Leah. “I know I’m not a songwriter—you’re the star, I’m the manager—but I was feeling oddly inspired. You were saying the other day how you had a lot of music without any lyrics. I think the words were pretty good, just saying. If you ever want to give them a look.”

  I looked around at the pictures that my dad had on the walls and on shelves. There were a few of him with his family growing up. There was a couple of him at college and with friends. Most of them were of him, my mom, and me. There were several pictures of me scattered around at various stages in my life.