by Amy Harmon
“You talked to her, right? You talked to the police. You told them I was okay. You told her I was fine. Right?” Bonnie asked.
“I didn’t talk to the police. I needed to see for myself that you were okay. I did tell your gran that you called me and told me you were fine, but she didn’t buy it. Hell, Rae. I don’t buy it! She’s shouting from the rooftops, giving interviews to TMZ, hounding the police.”
“Is she worried about me, or worried about my reputation?”
“Both!”
“Why? Why doesn’t she just back off for a little while?”
“She’s afraid everything she’s worked for—”
“Oh, that’s right. Gran’s done all the work,” Bonnie interrupted, and Finn touched her hand briefly, comforting her, before he continued his preparations.
“She’s afraid you’ve gone off the deep end, Rae,” Bear said, his tone softening to couch his words.
“And what do you think, Bear?”
Bear studied Bonnie Rae, his eyes lingering on her cropped hair—glaring evidence of all that had gone wrong—and on the way she hovered near Clyde.
“I think you’ve been standing on the edge for a long time, Baby Rae. You haven’t been yourself. I’m not the only one who’s noticed it either. Some of the crew think it’s drugs, but nobody’s ever seen you taking pills or shooting up. Everyone knows the troubles your brother Hank has had, so they’re wondering if it’s a family habit. You’ve been off, way off, for months now.”
“It isn’t drugs, Bear. It isn’t anything like that. And you know it, Bear.”
“I know it isn’t Baby Rae.” He sighed heavily. “You’re grieving, and your spirit’s broken. But I’m thinking you’re going about fixing it the wrong way.” The black eyes rested firmly on Clyde once more.
“I just need some space . . . and some time, Bear,” Bonnie Rae whispered, pleading.
“You aren’t gonna get much more, Rae. This thing is ramping up every minute that you’re gone. I’m surprised someone didn’t follow me here. I’m even more surprised you don’t have reporters camped outside. If your gran can make it look like you are innocent as the day is long, just a sweet little girl at the mercy of a big bad thug, then that’s what she’s going to do. This is country music, baby. This is big business. You’ve got an image to protect.”
“But what about Finn?” Bonnie protested.
Bear looked at Finn who stood leaning against the sink. Bear’s jaw tightened, and his eyes grew hard.
“Mr. Clyde can take care of himself, Baby Rae.”
“But this is all my fault. I won’t let Gran do this!”
Bear kept his eyes on Finn as he addressed him.
“I’m sorry, man. But you’re going down. Rae’s gran is going to take you down.”
Bonnie gasped, and Bear turned to her. “And Rae? You’re coming back to Nashville with me.”
“No, Bear. I’m not. I’m not going with you. I’m going with Finn to get his Blazer, and I’m going to make things right. You tell Gran that if she ever wants to see me again, she will make this all go away for Finn. She better start singing a different tune, or I won’t sing again. I won’t, Bear. I love you, but I won’t be bullied one more day. I don’t owe you, or Gran, or anyone else one damn thing.”
“Bonnie.” Finn spoke up for the first time, and Bonnie turned to him, tears threatening, apology written all over her face.
“We can’t get my Blazer. They would have called in the plates when they towed it. Maybe the police didn’t pick up on it, but I’m guessing it has been flagged by now. If the cops are really looking for me, the moment we go get it, I’ll either be arrested or they’ll keep it impounded until I’ve been cleared.”
“But . . . but . . .” Bonnie collapsed into her chair, and Bear and Finn considered each other for several long minutes. Then Bear turned to Bonnie and pointed a thick finger at her.
“You should be at the Kodak Theater on Sunday, in that audience, ready to accept that award if you win, Rae.” He looked at Finn and explained. “Bonnie’s song “Machine” got nominated for best original song in a motion picture.” He looked back at Bonnie like he couldn’t believe he was having to remind her. “You remember that, right, Bonnie Rae? You wrote a song that could win you an Oscar? That’s a big damn deal.”
“I remember, Bear.” Bonnie shrugged and looked at Finn as if she were a little embarrassed.
The coffeemaker finished, and Finn busied himself with cups and creamer, setting mugs in front of Bear and Bonnie and keeping one for himself. Bonnie wrapped her hands around it but didn’t make any move to sweeten or lighten the black brew.
Bear wasn’t finished. “You show up there, on the red carpet, smiling in front of the cameras like nothing has changed, holding hands with Clyde here like he’s your boyfriend and not a convict who dragged you off. You’ll undermine everything your gran’s tellin’ everybody, and you’ll do it on national TV, without having to say a word to the police or anyone else. If you win, you go up there and be your charming, loveable self, thanking everybody and their dog—or should I say ‘Bear.’ You do that, and all this just might go away.”
“Finn?” Bonnie asked. “You ever been to the Oscars?”
She knew he hadn’t been. But that’s not what she was asking, and he understood the question, loud and clear. Bonnie wanted him with her. And in spite of everything, he wanted that too. He was all in, and he’d known it last night when he heard her sing, standing at the top of the slide, telling the night sky that she was a traveler going through the world alone.
“I’ll get Bonnie to California by Sunday,” he said to Bear, and Bonnie’s face lit up with that same old smile that kicked his ass and made him beg for more. “It’s Thursday now. We’ll show up at the Oscars, put the rumors to rest, and after that, Bonnie can decide what happens next without any of us telling her what she will or won’t do.”
Bear was watching Bonnie as she beamed at Finn over her coffee mug. He shook his head a little, as if denying what his eyes were telling him.
“You need wheels?” Bear asked abruptly.
“I’ve got a rental car out there,” Finn said doubtfully. “But I’m supposed to turn it in today. If I’m in trouble, I don’t want to be flashing my driver’s license and using my credit card again to rent something else. We won’t make it very far.”
“Nah. That won’t do. I drove in from Nashville this morning. It’s only four hours from here. You take my car, and I’ll drive your rental back to Nashville. You call the rental company, tell them you’ll turn it in there. They don’t ID you when you bring the car back. They just want money. I’ll give it to them.”
“They might charge us an arm and leg for changing the check-in location,” Finn said.
“You can pay me back when this is over. I will expect a raise, Baby Rae.” He turned his attention to her for a brief second and then was back to glaring at Finn. “I’ll get my car when I come to LA for the awards.” Bear looked at Bonnie. “Don’t let Bonnie drive.”
“Bear!” Bonnie said, offended. Judging by Bonnie’s penchant for trouble, it wouldn’t surprise Finn if she were a terror behind the wheel. Finn considered himself fairly warned.
“There’s your purse, Rae.” Bear indicated the buttery yellow, leather bag he’d placed on the table upon entering the kitchen. “I got you a new phone. Your gran took yours since you lifted hers. Don’t ask me how I got my hands on this bag. The phone’s on my account, and it’s for my own peace of mind.”
Bonnie rose and kissed the top of his shiny, bald head. “Thank you, Bear. And the raise? Consider it done.”
With a quick smile for Finn, she bounded up the stairs, and Finn could hear her in the upstairs room, gathering their things. Good. They needed to leave while they still could.
“I’ve been a bodyguard for twenty-five years, and I’ve been Bonnie’s head of security and fix-it man for the last five,” Bear said seriously, and Finn’s attention moved from the bedroom to the kitche
n table where the glowering black man demanded it. “I’ve played babysitter to a lot of celebrities in my life. Made a good living at it too. Some of them are nice people. Some of them aren’t. But most of them are screwed up in some way or another. Just comes with the territory. Too much of everything. And everybody knows too much of anything makes you sick. Sick in the belly, sick in the head, sick in the soul. Too many of ‘em got too much yet they don’t ever feel full, it seems like. They think they should be happy but they aren’t, so they do stupid shit to make the emptiness go away.
“But Bonnie Rae isn’t like that. Some of it’s due to her gran being a hard-ass. Bonnie might not admit it, but that woman loves her. Unfortunately, Gran saved Bonnie from being bitten by the celebrity bug, but she’s fallen victim to it herself. She’s let it become the most important thing.
“Rae’s always been steady, though. Sweet. Full of life, and never full of herself. But when her sister died the fire went out. She just lost it. I thought she was done when she went home. I thought we’d be canceling the rest of the tour and taking some time off. But that didn’t happen. It shoulda happened. I shoulda stepped in as her friend. But I didn’t. So that’s why I’m here, and that’s why I’m stepping in now. I don’t know what’s going on with you two. She says you found her on a bridge in Boston. She told me if it wasn’t for you she might not be here. So I’m gonna walk away now. And I’m gonna trust you. But if you hurt that girl in any way, I will kill you.” The flat black of Bear’s eyes didn’t flicker or shift. He wasn’t making idle threats.
“I’m ready!” Bonnie spilled into the kitchen, hopping on one foot as she pulled a red boot on her other foot. Finn’s bags hung off her shoulders, and one arm was stuck in her fluffy pink coat.
“Keys!” Bear demanded, standing from the table, abandoning what was left of his highly doctored coffee. Finn dug the keys from his pocket—he’d hidden them the night before so Bonnie couldn’t steal them and drive off again—and he’d put them in his pocket as soon as he’d pulled his pants on that morning. Bear tossed his own set toward him, and Finn caught them deftly before doing the same.
“My car is the black Charger parked down the street, and I’m guessing yours is the tin can in the driveway. Lucky me. I suggest you two get the hell out of town. You keep moving and you should be fine. Once you get to LA, lay low at the Bordeaux—those people have dealt with stars and scandals for decades, and they are discreet. You’ve stayed there before so you know the drill. Nobody will even know you’re there. I’ll take care of the details, and I’ll see you both in LA. Call me, Baby Rae.”
CLYDE AND I did as Bear suggested and left soon after he did, locking the front door behind us. Bear had parked the Charger almost a full block down the street, in front of a dumpy house with several other vehicles pulled up on the grass. College kids. I couldn’t help but feel like someone, a cop or a reporter, was going to jump out at us at any moment, but very few people were on the street, and those who were didn’t give us a second glance.
Finn wouldn’t get to see his dad, after all. I felt bad about that, and told him as much as we slid into the Charger, the luxury of Bear’s car feeling almost exotic after days spent in the rumbling old Blazer.
“I’ll ask him to get the Blazer when this is all cleared up. Then he can drive to Vegas and spend a few days with me there. I think he’d be willing. He’s been trying to get me to come to St. Louis since I was released, hoping that I would go to school.” Finn shrugged and let his father’s suggestion hang in the air.
“Why don’t you? Go to school, I mean. You’re so smart. Then you could do math all day long, right?”
“Nobody wants to sit and do math problems all day, Bonnie. It isn’t like that. I love numbers and patterns, and I see them everywhere, but I don’t need to sit in school to do that. Plus, I don’t want my father to have to explain me to his colleagues. People in his circles don’t have kids who spent their college years in jail.”
“I’m guessing people in his circles don’t have kids who can multiply large numbers in their heads, and who can remember every card that’s been played in a poker game either.”
Finn grunted, like he didn’t have an answer for that and started Bear’s car.
I reached over and turned it back off. He looked at me in surprise, and I took a deep breath.
“I’ll do whatever you want to do.”
Finn raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to explain myself.
“I’ve been selfish. I can make this go away. We’ll just go to the police. I’ll make a statement. Then we’ll get the Blazer. And it’ll all be over.”
“I just told Bear I would get you to Los Angeles,” Finn said, his face blank.
“I can get myself to Los Angeles.”
“With what? You don’t have any money.”
“I have cards.”
“I’m guessing every last one of those cards has been suspended. Your gran strikes me as the thorough type.”
“So take me to a bank. I have my ID now, I have my account numbers. I’ll get what I need.”
“I’ll take you to a bank.”
I nodded, a lump rising in my throat. “Okay.”
“But we’ll do what we planned. We’ll call the shots. We go to LA—you let the world see that Bonnie Rae Shelby is just fine—and then you decide what comes next. Not your gran. Not me. You.”
I nodded again, the lump now lodged behind my eyes, making them water. I blinked hard and pulled my sunglasses out of my purse.
“Why?” I whispered, as I pushed them up my nose. “Why are you doing this for me?”
“I don’t know.” Finn answered. And I could see from his frank expression that he didn’t. He was telling me the truth. “I don’t know. I don’t want any part of this circus. I don’t want cameras in my face. I don’t want people talking about me. I don’t want to see my face on a magazine. I don’t want any of it.”
“So . . . why?” The tears leaked out from under my glasses.
“I don’t want any of that . . . but I do want you.”
When a man says something like that to a woman, he’s supposed to lean forward and kiss her. Hard. Then he’s supposed to make love to her. Harder.
But Finn didn’t. Of course not. He looked like he wanted to take the words back as soon as he’d said them, and he scrubbed his hands over his face, Finn-style, letting me know he was agitated and extremely uncomfortable. He reached over and yanked my glasses off my nose. I guess he needed to see what I was thinking. He swallowed when he saw my tears, his Adams apple working in his strong throat, and then he looked away from me, tossing my glasses on the dashboard, like he was tossing away his good sense.
“You drive me crazy! You irritate the hell out of me. You make me want to pull my hair out, and every damn thing has gone wrong since the moment we met.”
I nodded, agreeing with him, and dug for something to wipe my nose. I found a napkin in Bear’s middle console and mopped at my face. I thought Finn was done, that he’d said what he was going to say, but then he spoke again.
“But I still want you.” Finn sounded stunned by the admission, and emphasized the word want like he couldn’t believe it himself.
“You want to have sex with me?” I squeaked, wanting that too, but hoping there was more.
“Yes!” Finn didn’t sound especially happy about it. “Yes! But if that were all, I wouldn’t feel like this. I wouldn’t be doing this. But I want you.” This time he emphasized the word you, and I felt myself relax a little, and I smiled through the tears that hadn’t stopped falling through his tirade.
“Good.” I laughed. “I want you too. So we’re even. Infinity plus one does equal two, see? Me and you.”
His hand shot out and wrapped around my neck, pulling me to him, taking my mouth with equal parts impatience and reluctance, like he could no longer help himself, but was trying to talk himself out of it right up until his lips touched mine. My hands curled in the front of his T-shirt as his tongue curled in
my mouth. And we didn’t come up for air for a very long time, oblivious of anything beyond the black windows of the tricked-out ride, completely unaware of the two television vans that had pulled up in front of Jason Clyde’s home at the end of the cul-de-sac.
I SENT A text to Bear as soon as we were back on the road, telling him we were on our way, and got an immediate reply.
I’ve got you registered at the Hotel Bordeaux under my mama’s name, just like we always do. Call before you arrive and they will bring you in through the back per our usual – no check-in required. Bill covered. Mr. Clyde can act as your security until I roll in on Sunday. Your tickets for Sunday will be with the concierge. The hotel will have a limo available for the big show. You got wardrobe covered? You won’t have a team there. Just you and me, Rae. That’s what happens when you go AWOL.
I responded:
I don’t have any hair left, I think I can handle my makeup, and I’ll buy a dress in Vegas. It’s just the Oscars. No big. :P I Love you, Bear.
And his final text:
Love you too, Baby Rae. Be wise. I’ll see you Sunday.
THE BANK WAS small, but it was still a bank. Normally, this wouldn’t bug me. The bank back in Grassley had been a little, brown brick building that had bats in the rafters and smelled like mold—a fitting statement for the state of Grassley’s financial situation. I hadn’t spent much time in any bank, truth be told. I had opened a little checking account and received my own debit card when Minnie and I got our first job at fourteen. It was a job at the Grassley Grill. We shared it, splitting shifts when there was only enough work for one of us. We started out scrubbing toilets and cleaning fryers and then worked our way up to cashier, making $6.75 an hour. I think minimum wage has risen since then, but half of every paycheck went into my bank account, and I watched my money like a hawk. Gran and I had emptied that account and Minnie’s account when we went to Nashville. It had taken all of our savings and hers, which wasn’t much, to buy our bus tickets there, and if I hadn’t made it all the way through the competition and won, we wouldn’t have had any money to get home because Gran spent it all on that damn wig.
