“What the hell kind of life is that?” Calvin exploded.
“You’re preaching to the choir here, Calvin,” Moose said, draining the pasta into a huge red colander.
“So what’s our next move?” Calvin asked, his voice teetering on the nervous side.
“We, as in you and I, don’t have a next move. The next move is up to Jake.”
Calvin walked over to the refrigerator and popped a Gatorade and swigged it down. He gave Moose a pat on the back, and said, “If you say so. Whatever you’re making smells good. So, tell me about Miz Gracie Sweet.”
While Moose proceeded to give Calvin what he himself perceived to be the lowdown on one Gracie Sweet, Jake Masters was rolling across the floor to where his wheelchair was parked. His body screamed with pain so bad, he felt his own sweat drip into his eyes. He cursed some more as he gritted his teeth. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d done this exact same thing hundreds of times, and while the pain was bearable, it was nothing like this. He struggled to take deep breaths. Mind over matter, Jake. Shift into neutral and realize it isn’t physical pain you’re experiencing, but mental pain. Admit it. You’re a mess. A real, hard mess. Something was burning his eyes, something alien, something he hadn’t experienced since that long-ago day when he’d stood at the cemetery holding his sister’s hand and mumbling he’d take care of her because he was her big brother, and that’s what big brothers did. “Well, you screwed that up, Jake Masters,” he muttered as he rubbed at his burning eyes.
Time to get this show on the road. He inched his body closer to the wheelchair, swiveled around on his butt, grabbed the arms, and hoisted himself into the seat. He sat there for a few minutes as he tried to figure out what his next move should be. Pretend nothing was wrong? Well, that was a stupid thought. Go with a temporary meltdown? Just as stupid. Apologize and say let’s forget this ever happened? Really stupid, except for the apology part. Go with a straight apology and say he was out of line? That made sense because it was the truth. Still, could he actually do it? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d apologized to anyone for anything. A really sad state of affairs.
Whiny puke. How could his sister say that about him? How? Every time he thought of the offensive words, he got livid. He yanked at his cell phone and sent off another text to his sister. What number was it? Maybe thirty-three. No, thirty-four. Had he really sent her thirty-four texts that she’d ignored? Beloved sister my ass. Now he was mad all over again. Let it go, let it go, his mind screamed. Beezer is done with you. As in done. She wants nothing more to do with you because you’re a whiny puke, and there’s no room in her life for whiny pukes. She’s going to be this famous country-western music sensation, and there’s no room for a whiny puke like you in her new life. Get it through your head and own it, Jake. Like that was going to happen.
He tapped out number thirty-five. Two simple words. I’m sorry. Then he tapped out number thirty-six. Four words this time. I love you, Beezer.
Jake hit the control on his motorized chair, whirled around, and headed for the kitchen. On the way, he decided to go with “pretend nothing was wrong.” If that didn’t work, he’d switch to Plan B, as soon as he could figure out what Plan B was.
No one said a word when Jake appeared in the kitchen and took his place at the table. Moose and Calvin were discussing Thanksgiving menus since the holiday was a little more than a week away. They didn’t stop talking, and in fact made it a point to ignore Jake, who helped himself to the bowl of pasta sitting in the middle of the table. He responded agreeably when Calvin asked him if he was a leg or breast man, referring, of course, to a turkey.
“I like the thigh, actually,” Jake said. “How big a bird are you cooking this Thanksgiving, Moose?” So, in the end, he thought, I’m going with business as usual. He waited to hear what if anything Moose was going to say.
“Who said I was cooking anything this year? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, Jake. My brother invited me to Montana for Thanksgiving. My niece is getting married the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I already bought my ticket.” It was all a big lie, but Jake didn’t have to know that.
“And you’re just telling me this now? What about me?”
“What about you, Jake? It’s always about you, isn’t it? I can call in a temp for the few days I’m gone. I said I needed to talk to you about something. This is the something.”
“Glad you brought that up, Moose. I keep losing track of time and forgot how close we actually are to Thanksgiving. I’m going to New York to my folks’ for Thanksgiving. I can send a substitute. We should discuss this, so I can schedule my replacement. You want to do it now or later?” Calvin asked.
“Later’s fine,” Jake said coolly. He hated coincidences. And this sure smelled and felt like a coincidence. He reached for a pickle and jammed it into his mouth. He looked down at his plate, then up at Moose, and in the same cool voice, said, “Something’s missing in this pasta. It’s not up to your usual, but it’s still good. I only mention it because you always want to know if something can be improved on. This could definitely be improved upon,” he said, pointing to the bowl of pasta.
Moose got up from the table. It was clear to Calvin and Jake as well that he was ticked off. Moose knew damn well there was nothing different about his pasta dish with the sun-dried tomatoes, crumpled shrimp, and a medley of his own special herbs that he never deviated from.
Not wanting to get further embroiled in Jake Masters’s affairs, Calvin looked over at his client, and said, “I’ll be in the gym. We pick up in an hour. I need to bring your chart up to snuff. One hour, and don’t be late.”
“Don’t be late,” Jake said in a snarky voice as he mimicked Calvin.
“You need to grow up, son,” Moose said as he placed dishes in the dishwasher. “You need to get out of my kitchen now so I can make lunch for Miz Sweet’s people. Why don’t you spend the next hour trying to make peace with your sister.”
“I just sent her two texts. All told I’ve sent thirty-six. She’s ignored them all. I’m not sending any more. If that’s how she wants to be, then that’s okay with me. I don’t give a good fiddler’s fart about her anymore.”
“Well, that’s a bald-faced lie if I ever heard one,” Moose snarled. “Maybe you should give some thought to getting in that specially equipped van you spent a fortune on and have never driven and drive up to Nashville to see your sister in person.”
“Maybe you should mind your own business, Moose. I’ll drive that van when I’m damn good and ready and not one minute before. I haven’t had it all that long,” he said defensively.
“You’ve had that van for almost a year. A year is not all that long. It’s a whole year.”
“What are you cooking now?”
“Shrimp scampi with lots of garlic and wine. Why?”
“Is that what we’re having for dinner this evening—the leftovers, that is?”
“Nope. Tonight you’re on your own. Tonight is my bingo night at St. Ann’s. It’s right there on the calendar. Don’t go all huffy on me now, Jake, or I’ll walk out of this house, and I won’t come back. Get your own house in order. I’d do it quickly if I were you, before you implode.”
Moose talked to him like this all the time, and he just shrugged it off, but today he heard a new tone in his old friend’s voice that clearly said he was fed up and on his last nerve. For a moment, Jake panicked. He’d been having these moments a lot lately. He quickly backtracked and said, “I forgot. Don’t worry about me. I can make a sandwich.”
“At least you got that part right, the part about me worrying about you. I quit doing that a long time ago. I’m kind of hoping that Beezer asks me to be her road manager. If she does, I’m taking the job. So consider this my notice in case that happens.”
“What the hell! Where’s all this coming from all of a sudden? Things were going along just fine until my crazy-ass sister decided to take it on the lam and do something that is only going to give her heartache, and
suddenly our world as we know it is falling apart. Like I said, what the hell is going on here?”
“If you’re looking for answers, Jake, look in the mirror,” Moose said, banging two pots together just to hear the noise. “Now I’d be happy if you’d leave my kitchen so I can get to work. I don’t like it when that big guy Henry comes in to see what the holdup is on lunch. He scares me. Now, git!”
Jake thought about a snappy comeback but realized he was fresh out. He turned his chair around and headed to his private lair or, as Beezer used to call it, his man cave, where he went to lick his wounds in private. He had an hour to fill. A whole lousy stinking hour.
To do nothing but feel sorry for himself.
A whole hour.
Sixty minutes.
Thirty-six hundred seconds.
Jake gave up when he tried to compute the nanoseconds.
Sometimes, like today, and most of his days, life just out and out sucked.
Chapter Five
John Rossmon, Beth Masters’s longtime significant other and the love of her life, watched his ladylove with clinical interest as she tossed clothing and cosmetics into a designer duffel bag at the speed of light. He tilted his head to the side, and asked, “Are you sure you want to do this, Beth? Think about it. What kind of signal will you be sending to Gracie if you bolt home? That you don’t trust her to handle the business? Since you had her on speakerphone, I can’t pretend I didn’t hear her end of the conversation. She’s more than capable of handling anything that comes her way, except for maybe your brother, and if I were a betting man in that instance, my money would be on Gracie. She’s got Mandy, Callie, and Lily. The four of them can kick some serious ass, as you well know. Why are you going off the rails like this?”
Beth sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked at John and smiled ruefully. “I do trust her. More than you could ever know. She’s the sister I never had. We always worked well together—that’s why I made her a full partner in the business. I’m just worried that I dumped too much on her. I’m worried about Jake and her going at it, and yeah, Gracie will give him a run for his money. Couple that with what’s going on now, and it’s a double whammy. It would just kill me if she ever came back to me and said I took advantage of her for my own selfish reasons. And, John, I did say if there was trouble, I would be there. This is trouble. I can smell it all the way here in Nashville. I need to go.”
“No, Beth, you do not need to go. I heard Gracie clearly. She said she does not need you to come home, and if she did, she would call you. Gracie can handle anything that comes her way, and we both know it. Now, having said that, if you’re having second thoughts about us and Nashville, that’s something totally different. Don’t confuse the two, and be honest. If you want to back out, that’s okay. I’m staying because I like it here, and we’ve made some inroads already. I am not prepared to give that up. I’m starting to think you’re having second thoughts. If you are, now is the time to tell me, so we can sort it out and make realistic decisions.”
Beth reached for John’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m not having second thoughts. If anything, I’m more convinced than ever that I was meant to do this. It’s guilt. I feel guilty. About Jake and how I handled it. About dumping it all on Gracie. For some reason, I thought this was going to be easy, and by that, I mean the leaving part. It’s killing me, John. I feel so guilty that I love what I’m doing. I feel guilty that I have you, and you know how much I love you. Gracie has no one but Gizmo and Jake. . . . Well, Jake has no one either, except Moose. I’ve got it all. I should be happy, but I’m not. I am, but I’m not. Does that make sense, John? I’m frazzled, and I know it.”
“Of course it makes sense,” John lied with a straight face.
Beth squeezed John’s hand harder. “You have always been my voice of reason. And you’re right, you’re always right. Okay, I won’t go. By the way, Jake has sent me thirty-six texts since I left. I haven’t answered any of them. He said he was sorry. He’s not sorry. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”
“So you’re just going to let him stew?” John grinned.
Beth laughed out loud. “What’s that saying? What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. He hung me out to dry for over three years. He needs to see how it feels.”
“Oooh, you are a coldhearted woman, Beth Masters,” John said, hugging her close.
“We’re good then, right?” Beth cooed.
“Yes, ma’am, we’re good. You want me to drive you to your lesson? It’s on my way to that interview I told you about.”
“Oh, John, I am so sorry. Here I am rambling on and on and taking away from your big moment. Of course you can drive me. Come by the studio and let me know how you make out. I know you’ll ace it. I have that feeling.”
“I don’t think either one of us should get too excited. Even if I get it, it is just temporary until the other band member recovers from his surfing accident. Plus, I heard that over forty other guitar players are auditioning.”
“But there’s only one John Rossmon. That gig could open so many doors for you.”
“I’m thinking more along the lines of helping me pay the rent. We have a deal, Beth. We split everything down the middle. You do not pay my way. If I run out of money, I’m heading home. I got a lead on a waiter job. I’m going to give that a shot. It’s just at a café that serves breakfast and lunch. If I get that, I’ll be okay.”
“Why don’t we get married? That way you could stop worrying about paying your way.”
John was so outraged at Beth’s words, he literally dumped her on the floor. “Tell me you didn’t just say what you said! I’m ready to get married anytime you want, but I am not living off your money. I thought we had an understanding,” he growled. “What about that part where you won’t marry me till Jake can walk you down the aisle? Huh? Huh?”
“Okay, okay. Yes, I understand. Damn, you’re touchy today. You’re nervous about the audition, aren’t you?”
John reached down and pulled Beth to her feet and drew her close. “Yeah, yeah, I am,” he murmured. “Talk me down.”
“I have a better idea. Let’s go for a walk and hold hands. It’s really cold out, so we can get your adrenaline pumping. I’ll even let you buy me a hot pretzel with mustard.”
“Deal,” John said as he reached for his jacket.
“Hold on, hold on. Here comes another text from Jake. I don’t believe this.” Then Beth started to laugh and couldn’t stop. She finally held out her phone so John could read Jake’s text: I’m going to drive up there and bang some sense into your head.
“Like that’s really going to happen. Moose told me that about a year ago, Jake bought this specially outfitted van with hydraulics so he could drive. As far as I know, he’s never even set foot in it, and yet he’s going to come here and bang some sense into my head.” Beth went off on another peal of laughter as John helped her into her coat.
“If nothing else, honey, you roused him from his stupor. You know what they say about waking up sleeping tigers.”
“No, tell me about that,” Beth purred as she linked her arm with John’s. “And anything else you might want to tell me.”
“You’re so bad.” John chuckled.
While Beth and John were billing and cooing with each other and holding hands, Jake Masters was stewing and fretting and cursing up a storm that Moose tuned out as he fried bacon and eggs for Jake’s breakfast.
“You need to give it up, Jake,” Moose thundered so loud Jake winced. “You own what you did, and your sister is not about to forgive you. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, pal. She’s done with you. I can’t say as how I blame her, either. You trampled all over her. She used to show up here at the gate and cry her eyes out. Did you care? Hell no, you didn’t. All you cared about was your own sorry ass, and don’t you dare tell me differently. If you think for one minute your going to Nashville will turn Beezer around, you are living in a world of total fantasy. She’ll kick that sorry ass of your
s to the curb so fast, you won’t know what happened, and if she has trouble doing it, John Rossmon will be right at her side. He might have been your best bud there for a while, but when you turned on Beezer, that was the end for him. Are you getting this all through that thick head of yours, Jake?”
Jake looked down at the plate of fluffy yellow scrambled eggs with six slices of extra-crisp bacon that looked so perfect it could have been a picture in a food magazine. He looked up at Moose, a pitiful expression on his face. “Yeah, Moose, I’m finally getting it. I’m just someone she used to know, and she no longer wants to know me. End of story. Period. I get it. I get it! So, in your opinion, and you know how I value your opinion, what should I do?”
“What Beezer asked you to do. Take over her business and run it the way she did. You’ve had a month, and you’ve done squat. We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if Miz Gracie Sweet hadn’t showed up. That’s just one more tick Beezer has against you. Even though she turned over her business to you, she knew she couldn’t trust you, so that’s why Miz Gracie Sweet is now in our lives. When a person loses trust in a person they love and adore, like Beezer used to love and adore you, it’s a major calamity. To be honest, Jake, I do not know how you can recover from this. Because . . . you are so wrapped up in yourself, you can’t see the forest for the trees,” Moose said, deliberately laying it on as thick as he could to try to shake some sense into Jake’s head.
Jake jammed his fork into the mound of eggs on his plate. “Who the hell’s side are you on, anyway?”
Perfect Match Page 5
