Many kind words were said by people that I didn’t know, repeated over and over again. People became faceless that eventually it’s all sounds rather than words until Leslie stands in front of me. The surroundings and people come back into focus and I think it’s the first time of the day that I’ve smiled.
“How are you holding up?” she asks.
“I don’t think I know?” I shake my head slowly and say.
“Want to catch a drink later?”
“That would be nice. After the burial?” I reply interrupting her.
“Sure thing. I’ll meet you at the bar,” she replies.
I’m standing around awkwardly counting down the minutes until I can leave. I stand with the funeral home staff and sign off on the final documents before getting into the car and joining procession of cars to the cemetery.
My bandmates are sitting in the limo with me, no one is talking, and each person is staring blankly out the windows. When we arrive to the cemetery and the walk up the small grassy hill to where my father’s giant gravestone will be, his final resting place.
I look at the ostentatious giant stone cross with his name etched on the polished surface.
Faithful Husband. Father to One. Man of many things.
As much as I would like to say this information is incorrect. He was the doting husband, and still remained faithful to my mother after her death. There is no reason for our relationship to have dwindled down to nothing like it has, except I’m the one to blame for it. It’s my fault that I left home as soon as I could. He tried to get me to come back to visit whenever we spoke, but it was my arrogance that kept me away.
My selfishness.
I thought I was better than the small town of Mercy. I knew from as far back as I can remember that my number one goal was to get away from the town. And I did.
I should have been here for him when his health was starting to deteriorate. I should have made more attempts to come home regularly.
I should have done this, and I should have done that.
I know that there is nothing for me to do now, and that I shouldn’t dwell on things that I cannot fix now. But my mind is running rampant of what ifs and I cannot help but to feel like a dick for deserting my father.
Chapter One Hundred Nineteen
I walk into the Neighborhood Bar and am quite impressed with the place as I look around. I haven’t really been here since they added the event space in the back of the bar or the entertainment space that was added next door.
We could have used that a lot growing up around here.
I walk past the bar and straight to the stage that’s set up toward the back hallway. I step up on the stage, turn, and with my hands on my hips look out to the area where the crowds would be, which is the inside of the bar. The space is big, the stage is impressive and suddenly, I have the desire to pick up my guitar and strum a few chords.
“Looking good up there,” Leslie calls from the edge of the bar with a smile.
I awkwardly laugh and then jump down to walk towards her.
“You want to sit at the bar or a booth?” I ask her.
“I’m privy to a booth, I’m not a fan with my back to the entire room,” she says.
I allow her to lead the way and then take a seat in the booth space across from her.
One of the waitresses arrive at our table before I take a deep breath to take our drink orders.
“Howdy there, Leslie, ma’am. What can I get for you?” The waitress with cowboy boots and short shorts asks.
“Hi Deb, can I get whatever ale you have on tap?”
Deb, our waitress smiles with her pen poised in her hand looks at me and her jaw drops.
“You’re… you’re… him,” she whispers.
“Who?” I ask. Unsure whether or not she’s meaning me as in the rock star or me as in Mercy’s son.
“Mercy’s Grind. You’re him,” she says so quietly, I strain to hear her.
I hold my hand out and smile, “pleased to meet you, I’m Caleb.”
She looks at my hand and then quickly takes it, still with her pen in her hand.
“I’m sorry, I don’t fangirl,” she clears her throat. “So, Caleb, sir. What can I get you?”
I ask for the same as Leslie and Deb leaves our table to put our order in.
“How often does that happen?” Leslie asks with a smirk.
“What do you mean?” I look in the direction of Deb, “you mean have someone fawn all of me? I mean, it happens.” I shrug.
“It happens,” she mimics me.
“What?”
“I remember that you like to be the center of attention, but I don’t remember you being cocky about it,” she says while Deb returns with our drinks.
“You two gonna get any food?” she asks.
“I think we’re good for right now, thank you,” I reply.
She turns on her heel and I watch as her hips sway until Leslie clears her throat.
“I’m not cocky about the attention. I really don’t notice it as much as I did when we first started out,” I reply to her earlier accusation.
She gives me a once over and then takes another sip of her beer silently judging me.
“So, I never knew you wanted to become a cop,” I say.
“Growing up, neither did I. But I love it.”
“Is there a lot of crime here in Mercy?” I ask.
“Well, I’m county. I cross over between a few different areas with Mercy just being one of them. I actually live in Lincoln, but I do come here to town from time to time. There’s the occasional misfit, but luckily no real emergencies.”
“That’s cool, kind of hot seeing you in the uniform, if I may say.” I say with a smile.
She blushes but ignores my comment. “So, you must be doing well, how’s everything else?”
“I’m good. Strange being back here. I think this is the longest that we’ve ever not played. But I think I’m coming to realize that being back here is good for right now. Let’s realign and save up our energy.”
“Do you always talk as the group?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You keep saying we,” she points out.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize. I guess I’m just used to it. Sometimes when I’m being interviewed, I refer to the band as a whole. To make it seem like I’m not talking about myself all the time. Have ya ever caught one of our shows?” I ask her.
“No, I heard enough of you on the radio. I didn’t want to see you and fall back in love with you,” she says picking with the napkin in front of her.
“Oh,” I say lost for words.
“Don’t worry, seeing you now, doesn’t make me fall for you again, or anything.”
“Because you’ve got a man.” I say, hoping she will correct me.
“No, not because of that,” she replies with finality in her tone.
“No?”
“I’m not a silly girl anymore. I can check my feelings in gear and I already know the type of guy you are, I don’t need reminding.”
Ouch.
“I don’t think you can really judge me on what type of guy I am, I’m not a silly boy anymore either, but I will be honest and tell you that I did think of you over the years. The shitty way that I left and well, I missed you.”
“I don’t want to talk about the past, about us,” she says staring directly at me with both her hands wrapped around her pint glass.
“Well, what do you want to talk about?”
“How are you? Your dad just died.”
“You know how our relationship was,” I shrug.
“The past few months that you’ve been home, did you guys become close at all, talk about everything that you could?” she asks.
“I was mostly pissed off at him for asking me to put my life on hold. But I understand now. There’s a lot that went into the type of shit that goes into being a Mercy man.” I rub the back of my neck.
We are silent for a few minutes and I notice that
she looks uneasy.
“What’s up, Les?” I ask.
“I got a visit from his lawyer yesterday,” she divulges, “he left me a few things and I received instructions to help you with the house should you choose to not keep it for your residence.”
“Well shit, you should have led with that. Did he leave you any specific instructions?” I sit up and lean on the tabletop.
“Should you choose to create a foundation of the estate, there is an account and directions with contacts to help with the facility. But if you choose to make it your residence, the funds will go to keep the maintenance on the house solely.”
“Maintenance? How much maintenance does that place take?” I ask.
“Well, I imagine a lot. The upkeep alone is a full-time job,” she explains.
“So, technically it would be staffing purposes.” I nod.
“Have you decided what you wanted to do with the place?”
“I thought a little about it, but it’s a huge decision. I’m a nomadic soul, I haven’t had a single residence that I’ve lived in for more than a year at a time, with being on the road for touring and such.”
“So, you aren’t ready to settle down?” she asks.
“With a woman? I wouldn’t say that. With a home, I’m not sure. I still have a lot of performance left in me and I don’t think the voices in my head will stop talking just yet,” I offer.
“Voices?” she quirks an eyebrow.
“I’m a creative type,” I shrug. “Words come to me all the time in the form of different voices, I’m not crazy, just gifted.”
I look over at the stage and then over at the bartender, then I return my gaze to Leslie.
Nows the time.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty
“Hear me out, you’ve got this stage and it’s not being put to use. I’ve got a band, and we’re actually pretty good. Think about all the business that Mercy’s Grind could bring to The Neighborhood and to Mercy,” I tell Noah and Leslie as I sit across from them in the booth talking with my hands more than my lips.
Noah looks at Leslie and she smiles in return.
“My father wanted so much more for this town, what if we could partner together and bring this small town to life?” I say.
“He’s got that look in his eyes,” she says to Noah.
“That crazed, I haven’t slept all night thing that’s happening right here?” Noah points.
“I was given things to do from my father’s will. Make a try in town, whatever that means and to expand the town.”
“I did want to open up and to have bands play here, why not Mercy’s own and grown?” Noah says crossing his arms. “I was just not expecting a big name, like you guys to actually play here. I’m all for it though. I think it could be really good for everyone.”
“You would need security, at least low-key security just in case. The name Mercy’s Grind is a household name, and I’m sure people will come miles to see you guys,” Leslie says with a nod. “It could open up more job growth opportunity. Does the bar have security or any of that?” she asks turning to Noah.
“No, we haven’t had a need. Our patrons are the residents of this town, you know how it is around here.”
“So, this helps with two of the three things that your dad wanted, what about the other one?” Leslie asks me.
“I’m still rolling ideas in my head. One thing at a time woman.” I say jokingly.
“Didn’t you two used to be a thing? I want to say that you guys were homecoming king and queen back in the day?” Noah asks.
“Anyways,” Leslie says directing the conversation elsewhere.
“Let me talk to my band. How about we meet for lunch the day after tomorrow, give the guys some time to let the idea marinate.”
“So, you guys are all staying here in town?” Noah asks.
“Yeah, at my father’s place.” I reply.
“Nice of the guys to stay with you,” he says.
“What can I say, we’re family. If one of us needs to do something, we don’t abandon one another.”
Leslie looks away quickly and I see her take a deep breath and suddenly I feel guilty. She was once my family, we rarely left one another’s side, and then I bailed on her. I abandoned her. Now, she’s hearing me spit the same type of thing that we once thought and I’m actually sticking to it this time.
“I’m sorry, Les,” I say lowering my voice and reaching towards her, but she pulls her hand away.
“Listen, I’ve got the head home. I’ve got a morning shift and… and it’s getting late,” she stands up and takes one last sip of the water she ordered when we approached Noah at the bar.
“I’ll walk you out,” I say standing.
“No, you don’t need to. Continue talking business, I’ll see you guys later,” she waves.
I offer Noah a look and he silently communicates to get the fuck out of here and follow after her. We’ll meet up with the guys for lunch in a few days and we’ll start something there. But for now, I need to clean up the mess that I made ten years ago. Because it’s obviously still effecting her today because of the way that I left things.
I follow her out of the bar and onto the sidewalk. She abruptly turns around and we’re inches apart. In that moment, I say fuck it and pull her the rest of the small distance to me.
Our lips crash, her breath hitches as my hand cradles her jaw and holds onto her while my tongue reaches hers and I kiss her with everything that I have. For a moment, I’m lost in the kiss. Remembering the light taste of spearmint of her kisses and the smell of vanilla and lavender filling my other senses as I’m as close to her as I possibly can be.
I pull away from her out of breath, with her panting in my arms until she regains her senses and balance then pushes me away.
“No!” she says taking a step back herself.
“No?” I say, confused.
“You will not come back into my life and expect me to fall at your feet. I’m not one of your damn groupies, Caleb and I’m sure as shit not the same girl that you abandoned all those years ago,” she sneers and walks away from me leaving me feeling like a pile of shit.
I stand motionless, with my feet glued to the sidewalk.
Does she want me to follow her?
Should I? I’ve already chased after her once tonight and look how that just ended.
I sigh loudly while I pull my keys out of my pocket and head towards my car a short distance down the street. I take my time driving back to the estate.
Why did I leave her here without telling her that I was leaving town?
I was in love with her. I was being truthful when I told her that I compared others to her. But I left her without a glance back. If I loved her as much as I claimed to have back then, I would have been a better man.
She would be better off without me.
But for a moment, she relaxed into me and kissed me back.
That was a sign that she didn’t forget.
And as much of an asshole that I am, and how much I know that she deserves better - I want her.
I got a small taste and I want more.
I’m not better off without her.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One
I discussed with the guys about the conversation that I had with Noah and everyone was on board. They even suggested that we hold most of the upcoming shows here in Mercy as a home roots type thing.
The only thing that was needed was to bring in our manager and the label. While we didn’t want the media outlets to explode into town, we did need to give them an update.
We settled on a few interviews, to discuss our future plans and to tell our fans that we’re writing, that we may do a different kind of tour, but we won’t let the world know exactly what right away.
Our location will remain somewhat private, and the best thing about small towns, is that they’re not going to blab our whereabouts to anyone. We’ve been here for a few months, and not once has there been any paparazzi in this town with
their lens clicking away. The performance in the woods that we did, never garnered the attention of anyone either.
I’m legendary in this town, not just because of my last name, but because I’m the hometown kid who made it big. The town wouldn’t rat out their boy and our manager ate this shit up. Maybe we can do more renegade shows
We scheduled a lunch at the bar with Noah, Miles, his brother and partner then Micah, his right-hand man.
Micah had a contract written up and I waved my hand.
“We don’t need a contract. We’re not doing this for the money, the bar will not be paying us. We will commit to fifteen shows for the next two-year period.” I say to Micah.
“What will you guys be getting out of this, then?” Micah asks.
“We’ll be deflating our egos and making sure that Caleb fulfills what his pops had wanted from him.” Will pipes in, “and maybe some free beer.”
“You see, Old Man Mercy has high expectations for his estranged son, and being the family that we are, we intend to make sure that this bastard finally listens to his father,” Pete explains.
“Fair enough,” Micah shrugs.
“I will be speaking with the Sheriff’s office to see what we can do for some security though, just in case our being here causes a little extra disorder for the bar and the town. I imagine that once word spreads that we are playing here on the regular, things may get busy around here. There may be one of our label guys here on occasion checking in on us.”
“Hey, we love welcoming people into town,” Miles says.
“Well, get ready for things to get a little crazy,” I say proudly.
“When do we want to start?” Noah asks eagerly.
“Since we’ll be setting up a residence here, I want to make sure that all of our equipment is here. We have stuff back at the house, but we also have our regular tour shit too.”
“Do you guys need anything specific? Trailers? Specialty lights? Only green M&Ms?” Miles smirks.
The Neighborhood Series (The Neighborhoood) Page 43
