“You cannot think for a second that didn’t kill me,” he said low.
“I saw what I saw,” I replied.
“Lyla—”
“You told my grandfather I’d always have respect from you, and I do not call that respect. Not what happened in Seattle. Definitely not what happened in Portland. And absolutely not what happened on that beach.”
He didn’t pause even a single beat before he returned, “I think, Audie knew what was goin’ down, he might not have championed the way I did it, but he would have agreed with the fact it had to be done.”
Those words just did not just come out of his mouth.
“I cannot believe you,” I hissed.
“It’s true, cher,” he said gently.
All right.
Enough.
“You didn’t trust me,” I whispered.
He shut his mouth.
“You didn’t trust me to be strong enough to find my way. You didn’t trust me to be strong enough to look after you when your world caught fire. Can you even begin to imagine the pain I felt, first, not knowing what was going on with you? And when I found out, getting up every day knowing you’d be trying to find some way to get through the day without me at your side, and then going to bed every night, not sleeping, because I was in agony, wondering if you got through the day without me at your side.”
“Baby, everything that happened to you, from the minute I walked up to you in that lounge chair by Amber’s pool, to not seein’ it through when you blew me off because I’d fucked up before your mom died, to Josh mouthin’ off and sayin’ shit that dogged you everywhere you went, to you not bein’ able to hold down a job or take a minute and get to know yourself is…”
He leaned toward me and thumped his own chest, he did it with his fist, and he did it way better than me.
“On me.”
“Preacher,” I whispered, about to tell him it was not.
But I didn’t get the words out.
“You’re absolutely correct. I promised your grandfather. I promised Audie. I promised him I would take care of you and you’re snortin’ coke and poppin’ pills and you don’t got a job and you haven’t found your passion and you’re not gonna find it walkin’ in the huge shadow I cast over everything. And that journalist was gonna publish and the lid was gonna be blown off and I was terrified that was gonna happen before the cops got their shit together, found Baptiste, got what they needed to nail it down. And what?”
He leaned back and kept going.
“I drag you along with that too? I know you know because you faced it when you went into that courthouse, and maybe you saw on TV how much worse it was for me, but you were inside, Lyla. You were in the courthouse. So you didn’t see. They were so up in my shit, I could barely wade through the motherfuckers shovin’ their mics in my face, wanting to know how I felt about the fact my parents murdered my baby brother. And I’d already dragged you through cycle after cycle of shit. I’m also supposed to drag you through that?”
I opened my mouth.
He wasn’t done.
He also crossed his arms on his chest and declared, “So, yeah. Fuck yeah. I can imagine your pain because I felt it. I was right there with you, baby. But I’ll take that, cher, again and again, rather than havin’ to watch you go through that with me. And to drag you along with what came after.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make,” I said quietly.
“Well, obviously, you’re wrong about that because it was.”
“I needed you, Preacher.”
“That isn’t true, and I know that shit because you told me that shit. You said it straight up and I’ll never forget it. You said you didn’t need me to live your life and you were right.” He threw his arms out again to indicate our surroundings. “You didn’t need me. And that’s good. That’s healthy. But more, you didn’t need to drown in my shit.”
“Yes, I said that, but I also said I needed you. And I thought you got me but it’s clear you didn’t get me.”
“Lyla,” he said slowly, obviously losing patience, “you are not seein’ this from my perspective.”
“And you aren’t seeing it from mine.”
“That’s the only thing I can see,” he retorted.
“They were all gone,” I said. “All of them. Except you.”
His body gave a jerk.
“You don’t know, and I hate it that you don’t know because I’ll take what I’ve got and what I lost rather than what you had but let me explain it to you. You do not just,” I lifted my hand and snapped my fingers, “get over losing the foundation that lay under you your whole life and move on. They were all gone. Mom. Gram. Gramps. Everyone who kept me safe in an unsafe world. You’re right. Gramps died locked in the prison of his mind, but somewhere in there, I know he felt all right. He felt good. At least about me. He did because he left me to you.”
His throat convulsed with his swallow.
“Of course I was lost,” I continued. “Of course I was floundering. I’d sustained blow after blow after blow. But you were my foundation, Preacher. You were the only thing solid in my life. They were all gone, but before that, Gramps sat at our kitchen table with a euchre hand in his fingers and watched you form a shield between me and my dad, and it became you. He left me to you. That’s what I meant about needing you. I don’t need you to exist. I don’t need you to breathe. I don’t need you to survive. I just needed you to be there. Because I loved you and my grandfather trusted you and I knew down to my bones I’d be okay after they were gone because the one solid thing I had in my life I’d have the whole of my life. And that was you. And then you left me standing on a fucking beach.”
“Baby,” he groaned.
I saw his pain.
I felt his pain.
But I could not be swayed by that pain.
“And Josh could say whatever he wanted, and I could have flashbulbs popping and a thousand mics in my face and a hundred pundits discussing what I was saying about health to the girls of today that I had a big ass if I had you. And having you means having all of you so when you’re working with cops to get your brother justice and journalists are leaning on you to tell stories you don’t want told and you’re fighting with your brothers in the band, I need to be there for you. But you took that away. You got ugly to drive a wedge between us and you made a decision for the both of us and neither of those things are okay.”
“China,” he said, and he was not calling me by a nickname he’d never called me.
“Yes,” I agreed. “I could take anything if I had you, but I’d shatter if I did not and I know that because I did.”
“Lyla—”
“And you can’t come back from that, Preacher. You can’t show up, even looking hot and leaning against a truck and being all that’s you and come back from that. Once something’s shattered, it’s never the same. But in this instance, the Lyla I was, was so broken, I just threw the pieces away.”
When I got done talking, we stood there, in my living room, not a beach where I could walk away, in my living room where I had to look into his beautiful, warm brown eyes as they held mine, pain and regret in his, and there was no escape.
He broke the silence by saying, “That’s what I wanted when I first saw you.”
God, I needed this conversation to be over.
“That’s what I wanted,” he repeated. “That’s what drew me to you. That and thoughts of your ass in my hands and my fingers in your hair.”
I did not smile but he was not being funny.
He kept going.
“I wanted to cradle your fragility in my hands and keep it safe. I wanted that job. I wanted that honor.”
Oh God, I had to end this.
He spoke again before I could.
“But I was wrong, and your grandfather was wrong, and the boys are wrong, and,” he jabbed a pointed finger my way, “you are wrong. Look at this.” He again tossed both hands out to indicate my living room. “You’re not fuckin’ frag
ile. You never have been. So, there’s one thing I was right about. You needed me out of the way so you could find that, Lyla. And it was torture for us both, but I did one thing where I had to be stronger than you. I gave that to you.”
He then reached behind him and pulled out a CD in its sleeve that it was clear, all this time, he’d had tucked in the back waistband of his jeans.
“We got more shit to talk about, so listen to this, cher, get rid of the guy you’re seein’ and see you in Baton Rouge.”
He tossed the CD on my coffee table and I was hoping with that he’d walk out.
I was actually not hoping that, of course, but I was telling myself I was hoping that.
He didn’t walk out.
He came to me, took my head on either side in his hands, tipped it back, and laid a hard kiss on my lips that was not wet, but it still curled my toes, made my stomach flutter and wet rush between my legs because this was Preacher. I could smell him, feel those hands on me, and I knew I’d taste those lips when he took them away.
Only when he took them away did he walk away.
But this time, as I pivoted to watch him go, he looked back.
“Love you, baby,” he said. “From the second you held my hand in that motel room, always have and always will.”
This, before he turned the corner into my kitchen and disappeared.
And when he did, I licked my lips.
And tasted Preacher.
McCade:
[Muttering, eyes aimed to the shelves behind the bar]
See you in Baton Rouge.
Fuck, I was an arrogant ass.
[Shoves iced tea glass away and raps with knuckles on the bar before he lifts his chin. In short order, he’s served bourbon. Neat.]
Jesse:
Well, we can just say, Preacher driving down to Phoenix to personally deliver an advance of the album to Lyla was a match to a fuse.
Now, mind you, Vanessa does not know him, so Lyla gives Sonia an earful, Sonia gives Vanessa an earful and Vanessa rips Shawn a new one.
Shawn is back in Louisiana, sorting shit for the gig so he’s not close to, you know, say, high five Preacher and then have his ass reamed even more by his wife.
We’re all getting ready to head out there to do some rehearsals and get our shit tight for the show, but for six weeks after Preacher pulled that stunt, kid you not, six weeks, I can barely keep my cell phone charged, it’s ringing so damned often, and when it isn’t, it’s glued to my ear.
Sonia up in my shit to get Preacher to fuck off.
Jules the same.
Penny and Lana both wanting to know what’s up Lyla’s ass that she just doesn’t take Preacher back.
Mom, torn between her two unofficially adopted kids, wanting what they both want, which might be contradictory, so she’s screwed.
Dave and Tim picking sides.
Dave, he picks Lyla.
Tim, Preacher.
Then I get the call.
The fuckin’ call.
[Off tape]
[Simms stops speaking for such a long time, a prompt is needed]
What call?
[Focus]
The call from Lyla.
She’s the one person I haven’t talked to yet. I’m giving her space because I figure everyone else is not.
She says, “Hey, Jess. You have a minute to talk?”
“For you,” I say back, “always.”
“Good, I’m sitting outside your house in my car,” she replies.
[Shakes head and doesn’t stop]
Fuck me.
Fuck me.
[Stops shaking his head]
I live in LA, the woman lives in Phoenix, and she’s sittin’ outside my house in her car, and she needs to talk.
Fuck me.
[Tips head back to look at the ceiling before righting it]
I know this is gonna be bad.
See, I want her for him because I love him, and he wants her and she’s good for him. And I want her for him because he got a raw, bloody deal for the first part of his life and multi-platinum albums don’t repair that damage.
A good woman repairs that damage.
Or, at least, having her makes it hurt a whole lot less.
But I love her too, and if she’s comin’ to me to ask me to get him to back down, I gotta do that for her.
I gotta do that for China.
Caught between light and dark.
No, sister, this just all seemed dark.
So, she comes in and I offer her a drink.
She wants a pop.
I get it for her, and we go out to my pool.
She’s got on this flowy skirt that I remember has a lot of red in it and a little black tee.
She flips off her flipflops, pulls up the skirt and sits her ass down beside my pool, putting her legs in.
I roll up my jeans, do the same, and, man, it is not lost on me that I’m in the same position I saw Preacher in just minutes before this epic story started off.
I wait for her to say something. I need her to guide this.
She’s staring at the pool.
And then I wish she’d keep doing it when she turns her head and looks at me.
“I’m pregnant,” she says.
It feels like my heart explodes.
Then she goes on in a whisper.
“And I don’t know how to tell Preacher.”
McCade:
I still had that pad, up the PCH from Timmy, but I was packin’ up because we were heading out soon to go to Louisiana. [charmingly pronounces “Louisiana” as “Looseeana”]
Jess calls, says he wants to come over.
I don’t got a lot of shit, but packin’s not fun, so I’m down with him rollin’ up so we can throw some back. Maybe go out and get some nachos.
[Blows breath out his nose, drinks some bourbon]
Jess walks in and Lyla’s with him, the look on her face, the look on his.
[Shifts to take hold of barstool and sit down]
[Whispering] Shit.
I know my life’s about to change in a way there’s no goin’ back, those looks on their faces.
Lyla:
I was terrified.
Utterly and completely terrified.
Jesse:
I didn’t know whether to stay or go.
The way they were looking at each other, I had to find a way to give them both what they needed.
So, I said to Lyla, “I’ll be right outside in the car.”
She nods, barely tearin’ her eyes from Preach.
I give him a look.
Under that bushy beard, his jaw is flexing, almost bulging, and he nods.
Then I go.
Lyla:
[Head turns to look at door, smiles softly]
Well, what do you know.
That man always had good timing.
[It’s then the growl of an engine can be heard, and all of the dogs start barking, the ones on the floor rise up and move about agitatedly, the Maltese on Lyla stars yapping and racing around the daybed to the distress of both cats.
The growl of the engine ceases and the cacophony reaches fever pitch before the door opens and Jesse, Lyla’s son strolls through.
He scowls at me and looks to his mother.
“This isn’t done yet?” he asks, at the same time petting two dogs at once while the Maltese that has taken a leap from the daybed yips at his heels.
“Jess,” she murmurs.
More agitation from the dogs as a shadow falls through the opened doorway.
It’s then, Preacher McCade strolls through.]
[McCade tips his chin to me then looks to his wife]
Where’s Lynie? (McCade)
Shopping. (Lyla)
Of course. (McCade, muttering)
We’re almost done here. (Lyla)
Good. (Jesse)
C’mon, bud. Let’s get a beer. (McCade)
[Jesse brightens]
If you give my underage son a beer, Preacher, I’
ll strangle you. (Lyla)
My son needs to learn to hold his beer like a man. (McCade)
[Lyla’s gaze comes to me] Do you see what I have to put up with?
Don’t let her fool you. She loves it. (McCade)
[He approaches Lyla and is not deterred in kissing her. He engages both hands in order to make certain this happens. He lets her head go, gestures to his son with his chin and looks to me.]
I’m makin’ chili. Stay when you’re done. (McCade)
[The two males disappear behind the door to the rest of the cabin and my attention returns to Lyla.]
[Draws in a very deep breath and lets it go]
I think it’s best if we back up a bit.
Lyla:
It was Loretta who gave me his address.
I did not listen to the CD before I went.
And, mind you, I took this journey a whole two days after he came to see me.
[Shakes head ruefully]
But even on the way up there, I didn’t listen to that CD.
I felt it would be far more dramatic to throw it at him in person, after telling him I was never going to listen to it, before I turned and walked away from him.
[Sighs, not unhappily]
It didn’t work out that way.
I sat in my car and stared at the bungalow with the gray siding, white trim and shake roof, thinking how cute it was and how I could hear the sound of the ocean and how the inside was probably even better and I just could not picture Preacher staying in a house like that.
Selecting a house like that.
Who was he now?
Where had he been for the last six years?
What had he been doing?
“No, no,” I said out loud. “I do not care.”
I rolled up my window but got the sound of the ocean back after I snatched up the CD Preacher had given me, opened my door and got out.
Fast Lane Page 28