Whiskey Lullaby

by Keren Hughes

  Reaching out my hand, I cup his cheek. He rubs his scratchy short facial hair over my palm, and it tickles. I run my other hand over his taut muscles. His body is built like some kind of Greek god. I could stand and marvel at it all day, but I’d rather enjoy the way it feels when his body is on top of mine. Or underneath me. I don’t care which, as long as I get to feel all of him.

  I sit down on the bed and pat the space next to me. Rhett sits but doesn’t do anything. It’s like he’s waiting for me to take charge. So I do.

  As I straddle his lap, I push him back so that he’s lying down on the mattress. Leaning down, I kiss him. Our tongues dance together in a slow, sensual tango. My breasts push up against his chest and I feel my nipples pebble.

  Sitting up, I grind myself against him, earning me a throaty moan that I feel reverberate through his chest where my palms are placed.

  “Caleigh …” he whispers.

  I grind myself over his erection and feel that warmth bloom in my abdomen.

  “God, Caleigh … I-I need you s-so bad.”

  Reaching down a hand, I take hold of his thick cock and rub it over my clit, moaning as it stimulates me.

  Rhett reaches for my bedside table where there’s a packet of condoms, but I put my hand on his arm, stopping him. I want to feel him, all of him.

  “I have a contraceptive coil fitted,” I inform him when his puzzled gaze sweeps over mine.

  “But they’re not one hundred per cent effective, let me just—”

  “I’m clean, if you’re worried. I haven’t been with anyone since … Angelo.” I whisper my late husband’s name.

  “Are you sure you want to?” he asks.

  I don’t answer, I just slide down onto the tip of his cock, moaning as I slide down and he fills me torturously slowly.

  Rhett moans loudly as he feels me stretch to accommodate him. It feels so fucking good to feel him inside me without a thin sheen of rubber between us. Some people say they don’t feel too different, but honestly, this feels so much better than the previous times we’ve been together.

  I want him to feel my walls clench around his bare cock as I ride him. Our cries mingle as he bucks his hips to match my every movement.

  “Fuck, Caleigh, you feel like heaven.”

  I increase my pace, making us both pant for breath. I watch as his chest rises and falls beneath my hands.

  This connection I feel between us is as electrically charged as a bolt of lightning.

  “Caleigh, I-I c-can’t hold out much l-longer …”

  My head falls back as his fingers dig into my hips. I buck against him and he thrusts inside me harder than I’ve ever felt in my life.

  A guttural growl comes from Rhett as he bucks up to meet my hips.

  “Caleigh.”

  “Rhett.”

  I snap my eyes to his and it’s like he’s trying to convey something without actually saying it. In a flash, he manoeuvres so that I’m beneath him. He positions himself between my legs and pushes them back towards my chest before lifting my calves so that they’re over his shoulders.

  When he finally moves—after what feels like an eternity but is really only a few seconds—he feels deeper inside me somehow.

  He leans down to kiss me and it’s a hot, messy, brutal kiss. It steals all the oxygen from the room, and I feel a fire raging inside me as he leans in to lick and suck my nipple before biting down. It stings, but my word, it is pleasurable, not painful.

  “Rhett, I-I’m going to—”

  I don’t get to finish my sentence as my orgasm tears through me. It feels like a tidal wave and I’m riding the crest of it.

  He doesn’t give me time to recover as he ups his pace, in search of his own climax. When it takes hold of him, he cries out my name and stills his movements.

  I feel it as he comes inside me and I can’t help the grin that slowly spreads across my face. That was what we were missing. Or at least I know I was. This whole time, that was the thing I wanted to feel most.

  Chapter Ten

  Brent

  I can’t believe we just did that. Part of me—a big part—hadn’t wanted that to happen unless she knew the real me. But when Caleigh said she wanted that, I couldn’t hold back any longer.

  I’m not stupid. I’m clean. I’ve been for checks since the last woman I slept with on tour. Plus, I’ve only ever not used a condom a couple of times when I’ve been really drunk or too horny to give a damn.

  But I didn’t want to do that with Caleigh still calling me fucking Rhett. That godforsaken stupid name that I gave myself to protect my anonymity here. I wanted her to cry out my real name as I came inside her. I’ve dreamed about it. I’ve touched myself in the shower to visions of her doing that. Ultimately, I was too weak-willed to stop it though. I wanted her more this time than any of the times we’ve been together before.

  This woman will be the death of me, of that I’m certain. Absolutely fucking positive.

  Caleigh curls up into my chest as I lie on my back, exhausted.

  “Caleigh?” I ask quietly.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re the most perfect woman on the face of this planet. I hope you know that.”

  “You’re too sweet. I’m not perfect, nobody is. We all have flaws, some more than others, some bigger than others.”

  “Then you are imperfectly perfect. Don’t argue.”

  “Oh, Rhett,” she sighs.

  My heart feels like it’s trapped in a steel vice with a thousand white-hot needles piercing it. I need to tell her my real name. I don’t know if she’ll understand, but I have to have hope.

  “Caleigh, I have something to tell you.”

  I get no response, so I look down at her and see her eyes closed, her face relaxed in sleep.

  “My name is not Rhett,” I whisper. “It’s Brent.”

  ***

  I walk around town aimlessly. Caleigh had to go to work and I didn’t want to prop up the bar all day just to see her. I have a feeling that even if other people didn’t notice, Damien would cotton on to what’s going on between us.

  I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the way he looks at her when he thinks nobody’s watching. I’ve looked at her the same way, so it’s impossible that I’m mistaken.

  My feet come to a stop and I look up to see the beautiful black Fender Stratocaster in the window of Strings and Things.

  Before I can stop myself, I push the shop door open and a little bell alerts the shopkeeper to my presence.

  “Hello, sir, is there something I can help you with?” he asks.

  “I-I don’t know. I was l-looking at the beauty in the window.” I almost trip over my own words. I feel like an idiot.

  He walks to the window display and removes the Fender. He cradles it gently, like any man with a love of guitars would.

  “Do you play?” I ask.

  “Oh, I used to. Not so much with the arthritis taking hold of my hands.”

  “I bet you miss it. I can’t even imagine not playing. I started learning—I say learning, but maybe it was more like messing around—when I was about nine. My parents got me a tutor after they saw me playing on a friend’s guitar one day.”

  “I’ve seen many a child that age start to play. I, myself, was a little older than that, but I started in high school. I think I was maybe twelve. Did you want to handle this beauty and see how she plays?”

  I shouldn’t. I promised myself this time here without a guitar. But …

  Before I realise what I’m doing, I say yes and take it from him. I sit on the stool he points to and strum a couple of chords. My fingers move like muscle memory. They fly over the strings like they have a million times before and I start to play a melody I’m all too familiar with.

  “ ‘Hotel California’, what a song,” the guy says as I continue to play. “Haven’t played that myself in years.”

  “It has some of the best guitar riffs in music today,” I respond without missing a beat. I lose myself to the music, tuning
out to the world around me.

  “You have an amazing voice, son,” he says as I finish playing.

  I hadn’t even realised I was singing along.

  “Thanks.”

  “Where are my manners? My name is Tom,” he says with a toothy grin.

  “Hi Tom, I’m … Rhett.”

  “Rhett? Unusual name. Haven’t met anyone with that name before.”

  “Yeah, my mum named me after a guy she liked.”

  “The only Rhett I’ve ever heard of is the one from Gone with The Wind.”

  “That’s the one. She had a crush on him. It’s her favourite film of all time.”

  “My wife loves that film too.”

  I feel like I got punched in the gut. I haven’t gone this long without speaking to mum in my life. Even when I’m on tour, we speak to each other every day. What must she be thinking? And with the news apparently reporting that I got on a plane … She must be going mental. Shit!

  I check my watch so as not to seem too rude.

  “Ah, man, I didn’t realise it was that time already. Sorry, Tom, I’m running late to meet my girl. I’ll be back soon though.”

  “Don’t keep the girl waiting. Go on, skedaddle. I’ll still be here whenever you want to come back.”

  “Thanks,” I say as I shake his outstretched hand.

  I hand him back the guitar and make like I’ve got a rocket up my ass.

  I walk back through town and sit on a bench by the clock in the centre of all the surrounding shops. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I scroll through my contacts and hit Call before I can chicken out. I know she’s going to flip her shit, but I deserve it.

  She answers on the fourth ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mum, it’s Brent.”

  “Brent? Whose number is this? Where the hell are you? What’s going on? Why did you ditch the tour? Why aren’t you returning Gordon’s calls or texts? He’s rung me, you know, asking if I know where you are. I told him I didn’t because that’s the truth, but he didn’t believe me at first. It was only when he could tell how upset I was that we hadn’t spoken that he backed off. And that’s another thing, young man, why aren’t you returning my calls? Me, of all people. I’m your mother, for Christ’s sake!”

  “Woah, slow down, Mum. One thing at a time. Look, I’m really sorry that I haven’t called you. I’m an asshole, there’s no denying it—”

  “Language, Brent.” She butts in to chastise me for what she calls my “potty mouth”.

  “Sorry, Mum, my bad. Look, I’ll fill you in, but long story short, I’m in a small town where nobody knows me. I had to leave the tour, I just had to get away. It wasn’t any one thing; it was a culmination of things. I haven’t been feeling right about music for a while. I’ve lost my passion somewhere along the line. Anyway, I’ve not answered Gordon for two reasons. One is that I don’t want to answer his barrage of questions because I don’t know the answers myself. The second reason is because I’ve bought a temporary SIM card for my phone. I haven’t given him the number.”

  “And that’s the number you’re calling off?”

  “Yes, keep this number to contact me until I return home, okay? I’m really sorry I haven’t called, Mum, I truly am. I haven’t got any excuses, because that’s all they’d be—excuses. The truth is, I want to stay here for a while, and I want to do so anonymously. I’m liking being somewhere that nobody knows my real name.”

  “I’m just glad that you’re okay, son. A million scenarios ran through my head. I would have contacted the boys, but Gordon says they don’t have a way to reach you either.”

  “Yeah, that’s a lie. They have this number now. Please, before you shout at me for giving it to them and not you, listen. I was worried you’d be disappointed in me for ditching the band and running away like a coward. You always taught me to confront my problems head-on, and I haven’t. Instead I’ve run in the opposite direction.”

  “Son, I’m not disappointed, I’m worried. I’ve been worried that something happened to you, until I saw the news with pictures of you in an airport.”

  “I don’t even know how they knew it was me. I’ve dyed my hair and haven’t shaved.”

  “Baby, you are recognisable. But it wasn’t just that, it was someone working at the airport that knew you’d bought a ticket—that’s what you get for using your card instead of paying cash.”

  “Someone at the airport needs sacking,” I say with a laugh.

  “Sorry, son, no grounds to sack them on. They told a friend who told a friend. You know how gossip trees work. They were only doing it because they were excited to see a celebrity.”

  I bristle at her use of my least favourite word.

  “I know, Mum. I just wish I could get some goddamn peace and quiet.”

  “I get it, son. You have always been the one out of the four of you that liked the limelight the least.”

  “Funny, you’re the second person to say that to me lately.”

  “Well, it’s true, son. Goodness knows why you agreed to be the lead singer. But what’s done is done, right? So, anyway, tell me how you’ve been.”

  I tell my mum about the quiet little town, and although I think twice about it, I tell her about Caleigh too. She grills me for more information, as mums always do. I allow her to ask what she wants but limit my answers. I want to keep Caleigh to myself for as long as possible.

  When we hang up, I promise I’ll call her in a couple of days. I feel like a complete douchebag for worrying her, but she forgave me for it.

  Feeling better after talking to the one person that really gets me, I walk to the taxi rank and get a taxi back to River’s Edge.

  We pull up outside Audrey’s and I pay the fare. I want to go and see Caleigh, but I won’t … yet. I’ll grab something to eat first and then I’ll decide what to do about going to The Lock.

  This afternoon, I was left wondering whether she’d heard me when I told her my real name, but I fell asleep next to her, and when we woke up, she made love to me and cried out “Rhett”, so I don’t think she could have heard me—unless she’s damn good at pretending. After all, she didn’t look like she was faking falling asleep in my arms.

  If she’d heard me, surely she would have questioned me instead of making love to me. And she certainly wouldn’t have cried out my fucked up assumed name.

  That leaves me with a question on my mind about whether to tell her or not. Well, no, that’s not quite right, I will tell her, but it’s a question of when.

  ***

  It’s been a couple of days since I saw Caleigh. I was going to go to the pub the other night, but I felt too weird—okay, more like cowardly—to face her after the whole saying my name out loud, even though I’m not convinced she heard me.

  I’ve finished books two and three in the series I’ve been reading. I haven’t dared leave my room at Audrey’s except to eat.

  Damien texted me about going to see some live band over in Pedmore, but I wasn’t feeling it after the talk with my mum. We spoke again this morning, and I even talked to Dad for a bit too. That might not mean much to some, but my dad and I don’t have the closest relationship. I think it’s because he never wanted me to actually tour with the band. He wanted me to get—and I quote—a real job.

  My dad, Don, he owns this big corporation, and as his male heir, I was meant to “take over the empire someday”. But that was never going to happen.

  He thought music was a hobby and I should start working for his company, learn the ropes and allow him to retire. He didn’t like it when I told him it was literally the most boring job I could think of and I would rather shoot myself in the head than take over from him.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said it like that, but I was young, and music was what I was passionate about. I wanted it to be more than my hobby, I wanted to be a famous singer and guitarist. But now that I am … I don’t know. I mean, I love my job. I love the fans. The fact that we’ve sold multi-platinum records. The record
label loves us. Gordon took a chance on us and helped us become one of—if not the—most famous country bands the UK has seen. That’s all amazing and everything, but I do sometimes wonder what would have happened if I’d chosen Dad’s path instead.

  I would be stuck in an office with a view of the London skyline. I would be wearing suits, making decisions about the future of the company. I’d have a secretary to bark orders at, like my dad. Would that be a comfortable life? I mean, he makes good money, but it isn’t about the money. The boys and I aren’t exactly poor. I didn’t choose this path because I wanted to be rich. I’d still want to be part of the band if we weren’t as successful as we are. Music is in my veins. Okay, the writing has been all dried up recently, for me anyway. But that’s why I’m here in River’s Edge. I’m just a little burned out, but I’ll get back to what I love the most … in time.

  I check the time and decide to get a taxi into Pedmore. I need to do something to stave off cabin fever, which has set in over the last couple of days of being stuck in my room.

  As I open the door, Tom greets me with a warm smile.

  “Hey, Rhett, good to see you again.”

  “Hey, Tom.”

  “Back to play me another song?”

  “Actually, I’m back to buy the Fender.”

  “Oh, that’s great news, son.”

  He grabs Bess from the window—I know, it’s weird to name a guitar, but I’ve done it anyway—and brings her to the counter.

  “I’ll be sorry to see it go. It’s been here for a little while now.”

  “She’s going to a loving home, Tom, don’t you worry.”

  Tom rings up my purchase and places Bess into a black case. He looks a little forlorn as he hands her to me, but he smiles as I reverently take her from him.

  “Thank you, Tom. And seriously, don’t worry. I’ll treat her with the love and respect she deserves.”

  “I know you will, son. I know.”

  “Take care, Tom. Who knows, maybe I’ll see you again soon.”

  “And you, Rhett. Have a good day.”