Poetic Justice: A Songwriter Mountain Man Romance (A Rock Hard Mountain Man Romance Series Book 1)

by Kylie Parker

  “Thanks, Helen.” He spoke in a lazy tone, looking up at her. “I’m fine. I was in the city. How much do I owe you?”

  “They’re on the house.” Helen replied, a glimmer of embarrassment in her dark-blue eyes. “I’m just glad you’re ok.”

  “Don’t be silly, girl.” James narrowed his eyes, putting his hand in his pocket. “How much is it?”

  “$82.19,” She muttered, as her pale cheeks flushed.

  “Here.” He said, handing her two, fifty-dollar bills. “Keep the change: for your trouble.”

  “I can’t t…”

  “I insist.” He put a little force in his voice, holding the money up in the air. “Grab a stool, will you? I need to ask you something.”

  “Thanks a lot.” She smiled down at him. “I’ll be out in a second.”

  “Ah, Helen… She’s such a sweet little girl. A bit of a pain sometimes; she talks a little too much, but nobody’s perfect.”

  “Okay.” She chirped once more, taking her seat beside him. “Shoot.”

  “Why do people keep hurting each other so bad, Helen?” His question froze the smile on her face. Her puzzled expression and her prolonged silence brought a fainter one to his. “Let me tell you why, girl. We think too much or too little. Either way, we screw things up in the end.”

  “Interesting,” she commented as a hesitant smile spread across her face. “Listen, I already know the answer to this, but I’ll ask anyway. We’re throwing a retirement party for my father tomorrow night over at “Brown Oak” bar. Are you coming?”

  “Thanks for the invite, Helen,” he assumed a stiff tone, “but no.”

  “Well, it was worth a shot,” Helen sighed, a touch of disappointment in her voice. “I have to get back to the super market. Let me know if you change your mind, ok?”

  “Will do,” James said with a nod. The young, tall blonde was making her way out of his front yard, when Rick’s black, luxurious Mercedes pulled up to his cabin. Clearly impressed, he kept staring at her, as she crossed the street. In fact, Rick liked her so much that, as soon as he stepped into his friend’s yard, he looked over his left shoulder and watched her drive off.

  “Sweet ass,” he silently mouthed to James, turning his attention to him. Under any other circumstances, James would have laughed, but not this time. It was not like Rick to visit him so often and the last time he was there, things almost spun out of control.

  “You look like shit.” Rick remarked. “When was the last time you slept?”

  “What the hell are you doing here, Rick?” James groaned. “Are you spying on me or something?”

  “Look, I just drove a hundred fucking miles.” Rick spoke in frustrated tones. “The least you can do is to try being polite. Did you sleep last night: at all?”

  “Sorry, man,” James said, dragging his gaze away from him. “No, I didn’t. How could I?”

  “I hate to break this to you, big man.” Rick drew in a sharp breath. “But you have to. The Adams chick signed a contract this morning. The bosses want to celebrate tonight. We’re invited.”

  “Oh, crap,” James whispered, dropping his forehead into his hands. “Man, they never invite me to any events. Why’s this time any different?”

  “It’s Peterson.” Rick responded. “He wants you to watch over Adams.”

  “What am I; her father?” James wondered.

  “Peterson said – and I quote – ‘Michelle thinks pretty highly of him. She won’t do anything stupid with him around.’” Rick smirked.

  “So, you had to drive here all the way from New York?” James asked, rising from his seat. “That’s what phones are for, you know.”

  “I just thought you could use a friend,” Rick cajoled, making his voice sound sweeter. “You’ve been through hell lately. Now, go get some sleep. Dinner’s at eight. I’ll wake you up at five, alright?”

  “Thanks, man.” James gave him a smile, patting him on the shoulder, moved by his words. “I’ll try. I promise.”

  In spite of his doubts, he soon discovered that he was too exhausted to stay awake. Emotionally drained and in dire need of some rest, James fell asleep within minutes, with Olivia’s smiling image still lingering in his mind…

  25

  The numerous hanging candle chandeliers in “Le Coucou” restaurant cast a mellow glow on the glasses. The romantic ambience in the French restaurant in Soho had impressed Michelle as well as the board members. For James though, the total absence of any media representatives in and around the establishment was far more significant. He couldn’t stand nosey reporters. Being seen with an artist like Michelle would invite too many uncomfortable questions and speculations. The last thing he needed was the media snooping around in his life.

  Michelle did not resemble, at all, the loud, provocative girl who had been drawing all kinds of wrong attention to herself. On the contrary, her conversations were quiet and her red, ankle-long dress revealed little. She appeared to value the fact that she had just signed a contract with a very prestigious record company, and kept repeating to James that she was willing to put the past behind her. However, she still did not convince him. Michelle had caused a mess less than 24 hours earlier.

  “People don’t change overnight. I doubt they even change at all. Not for the better, anyway. Oh, what the hell… Let’s just have dinner and go home.”

  Less than fifteen minutes into their dinner, James noticed somebody painfully familiar: the man, who had bribed Olivia, was sitting at a table down the row of tables and to the right, accompanied by a middle-aged woman and another couple. Regretting his decision to go out, he poked Rick in the ribs with his elbow.

  “Two o’clock.” He said, casting a razor-sharp glance at the man in question. “Isn’t that the guy from the video?”

  “Shit.” Rick hummed. “Yeah, that’s him alright. Keep it together, man. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Do we have a name?” James asked, gripping the table cloth.

  “Walter Parish. He’s their vice president.” Rick replied. “Be cool.”

  “I’m just waiting for the right moment.” James maintained, sensing a light touch on his right shoulder.

  “How’s my songwriter doing?” Michelle said, smiling up at him. “Is he having fun yet?”

  “Not really.” James murmured, unwilling to face her, watching as Parish stole glances at a voluptuous, brunette waitress. “I’m just waiting for the night to be over.”

  “Always blunt,” she remarked, squeezing him lightly. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about what happened over at my uncle’s house. You were right. I had the wrong attitude.”

  “It’s not about me being right, Michelle,” James waved his hand in front of his face. “You can’t accuse all men and then sing love songs.”

  “Anyway, I promise to be a good girl from now on,” she stated. “No more twerking crap, no more twitter, no more craziness.”

  “That’s good to hear,” James spoke, noticing the brunette waitress heading towards a narrow, somewhat dark hallway across from his table. The overhead sign read:

  “Employee Restroom”

  At that moment, Parish got up from his seat, turned around and started towards that same hallway.

  “Bad mistake,” James thought to himself.

  “Excuse me,” he said, rising to his imposing, 6’3” stature.

  “Got a soft tooth for waitresses, you little prick? You’re going to pay for this…”

  Despite his fuming rage, James had to be smart. A possible confrontation with the man – who had masterminded the entire chain of events to try and destroy him – in a public place could only get him into trouble.

  He heard two voices become louder, as he got closer to the bathroom. James pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and stopped, just a few inches away from the doorframe and then snuck a peek. The waitress was trying to open the bathroom door. Parish was right behind her. The aging executive reached his arm around and groped the young woman.

  “G
et your hands off me!” She cried, flipping around to face him.

  “Come on…” Parish smirked. “Five hundred bucks for a blowjob. What do you say?”

  “Clear out.” James grumbled, tensing his jaw, as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

  “Now, who the fuck are you?” Parish groaned as he turned to face him, the terrified waitress took the opportunity to brush past him.

  James did not speak. He took a big step closer to Parish, clenching his fists. Abruptly throwing his right arm, he rotated it in mid-air and laid a thundering punch in Parish’s eye, sending him ten feet across the narrow hallway. He landed hard on his back, banging the back of his head against the floor, groaning in pain. James rushed towards him and dropped to his knees beside him, blood pounding through his veins.

  “Let me jog your memory.” He snarled, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, as Parish struggled to focus on his face. “Olivia Ralston. You paid her $50,000 to sleep with me.”

  “Jimmy X.” Parish laughed, as his wound oozed with blood: “small world.”

  “Why, you motherfucker?” James’ voice rumbled like thunder, as he shook him violently. “Why did you do that?”

  “Orders, kid.” Parish spoke in his gravelly voice.

  “Orders?!” James yelled, narrowing his eyes at him: “orders from whom?”

  “Her.” Parish spoke in a faint tone. “You can punch me all night. I’m not giving you her name.”

  James removed his right hand from Parish’s collar. The next jab to the jaw rocked his head back. Before he could open his mouth again though, a faint smile formed on the middle-aged man’s face.

  “I’m more afraid of her,” he whispered. “You’re going down for this.”

  “Oh, yeah?” James grabbed him by the throat once more. “Go ahead. Sue me. Let’s see what your wife thinks when I send her a picture of you groping that girl.”

  “Shit!” Rick cried, stepping into the hallway. “What the hell are you doing? Let him go!”

  “This is not over,” James snarled, leaning over the battered man. He got no response. Loosening his grip on Parish’s collar, he rose and stormed out, sensing his heart ready to burst out of his chest.

  “More riddles… more questions. I’m losing my mind here. Who is she? Why does she scare the crap out of him? Why did she try to hurt me?”

  Just when he was about to leave the hallway, James felt Rick’s thick hand on his wrist.

  “Damn it, man!” He gasped. “I said ‘be cool’!”

  “That was cool.” James said, looking down at him over his left shoulder, his chest rising up and down. “I could have beaten him a lot worse.”

  “What did he say?” Too upset to answer his question, James ran his hand through his hair, exhaling hard.

  “I don’t know, Rick.” He shrugged. “I’m done speculating.”

  26

  The news that a woman was behind everything did not surprise James at all. After Olivia’s painful betrayal, he expected just about anything from them. The past few days had taken such a toll on him that he could not bring himself to discover her identity. After all, her plan had failed; now he needed to focus on his work. The first part, however, was the one he enjoyed the least. Unfortunately, he would have to spend a considerable amount of time with Michelle, which meant that he had to abandon his cabin for a few days. Much to his liking, though, their first meeting was scheduled on Monday. At least, he could spend the weekend on the mountain.

  The following afternoon, it occurred to him that he needed to thank Helen’s parents for their noble gesture. If anything, it proved to him that they had not forgotten about him, and cared about him enough to send their own daughter to check up on him. James knew that he didn’t deserve such treatment. He had been cold to them over the years, never once inviting them over to his cabin. The least he could do was attend her father’s retirement party.

  The “Brown Oak” bar was located on the east edge of town, and sadly for James, getting there would prove to be much more challenging than he anticipated. More than a mile away from it, he found himself in a real traffic jam and, just a few minutes later, he discovered he would have to leave his SUV hundreds of yards away from the bar.

  “Dear old Dwight seems a lot more popular than I thought. Ah well, what the hell. I need to do this.”

  Dozens of people had already queued up outside the “Brown Oak”, by the time he arrived. Helen, along with another blonde James had not seen before were at the door, welcoming each and every guest. A rather peculiar thing happened, as their eyes met: Helen opened her eyes wide, then whispered something into the other blonde’s ear, before disappearing into the bar.

  “Good evening.” James smiled down at the blonde. “My name’s James Farrell.”

  “I’m Patricia.” She said, offering her hand for a handshake. “I’m Helen’s older sister.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said with a nod, shaking her hand. “Where did Helen go? She was here just a minute ago.”

  “Well…” Patricia gave a snort of amusement. “I’d love to tell you all about it, but it would take a little too long and I’m kind of busy here. Why don’t you get a table? I’ll come find you, as soon as I can.”

  “Alright,” James agreed. Country music was playing from the speakers, as he swept the spacious bar for Dwight and Helen. They were nowhere to be seen. Curious as to why she had reacted like she had, he found an empty table closest to the door and waited patiently for Patricia to join him.

  “Look at this place… American flags everywhere, people laughing their hearts out, nice music. I like it. It has a positive vibe; it’s certainly nothing I’m used to. Maybe staying away from the locals was a mistake. I mean, who doesn’t like to have some fun? But, if I did mingle with them, sooner or later, one of them would try to set me up with his daughter, especially if they knew who I was. It’s complicated…”

  “Earth to Mr. Farrell…” Patricia waved a hand in front of his face. Lost in his thoughts, James had not noticed that she had seated herself across from him. “Say something.”

  “Sorry,” He said, a smile of embarrassment on his face.

  “I brought you a beer,” She cast an absorbed glance down at the bottle on the table.

  “Thanks; to your father.” James grabbed it and proposed a toast. “Where is he, anyway?”

  “Last time I saw him, I think he was adopted by his army buddies.” Patricia grinned, lifting her own bottle to her lips.

  “How come I’ve never seen you before?” James wondered, his voice nervously squeezing up an octave.

  “I live in Boston.” Patricia claimed. “To be honest, I can’t believe I’m talking with you.”

  “Really?” James raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “You’re a ghost.” She attempted an emphatic tone. “You have no friends. Trust me, if you didn’t play music…” She paused and leaned forward. “People wouldn’t know you even existed.”

  “Could you go get me your father?” He dropped his gaze from her stare, uncomfortable by her remark.

  “Fine…” Patricia spoke in disgruntled tones, “you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You said you’d tell me why your sister left,” James said, his voice stiff. “Well?”

  She was about to verbalize, when her phone buzzed with an incoming message.

  “I’ll leave that to her,” A broad smile spread across her face. “She’s waiting for you on the terrace.”

  “The terrace?” He squinted at her.

  “Yeah,” she affirmed. “There are stairs in the right corner, leading upstairs. Excuse me.”

  “Yeah, I know what this is. This was never about your father, Helen. This party was just a front. I fell into a trap… again. Damn it.”

  A fantastic, unobstructed view of the town of Shandaken greeted him, as he climbed the last few steps. Helen was standing close to the edge of the terrace, gazing at the hundreds of town lights. The moonlight reflected in her big b
lue eyes, as she turned to face him.

  “Isn’t it amazing out here?” There was something different in her voice. It came out slow and drowsy. “I mean, look at all that.” She pointed it at the sky.

  “It looks great.” He spoke in his baritone, “but it’s way too cold.”

  “That’s never stopped you from playing the guitar.” Helen teased him as he walked up to her. “And boy, you sound good.”

  Her toothy smile and the smell of alcohol in the air made him understand why she sounded so odd. Helen had been drinking.

  “You’re drunk,” James said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Why, girl?”

  “I couldn’t do this sober, honey!” She laughed, taking his left hand into her palm. “You see, Mr. Farrell, I’ve had this…” she faltered, as she raised her gaze to meet his; “huge crush on you for a while now.”

  “Don’t go there, Helen,” he urged, his voice soft as she ran her thumb across his wrist. “Please, don’t.”

  “I thought you’d be…”

  “Surprised?” He finished her sentence. “Not really.”

  “Huh!” She let out a short gasp of despair, covering her mouth with her other hand. “Oh, my God: you’re gay!”

  “No.” James whispered, bending his head down towards her.

  “Then why haven’t you asked me out yet?” Helen asked, removing her hand from her mouth, her voice riddled with tension.

  “I wish it was that simple,” he heaved a long, deep sigh.

  “Well, you like me, don’t you?” Her voice became high-pitched. “I mean, isn’t that enough?”

  “I do like you.” James nodded. “But…”

  “But?”

  Her persistence put him in an awkward position. James squeezed his eyes shut, as the memories he had with Olivia returned to his mind. In an instant, his heart was flooded with a sea of emotions. Unable to utter a single word, he felt the tears surging up in his eyes.

  “There’s someone else, isn’t there?” Helen’s broken voice tore the silence, as she circled her left arm around his neck.

  “There was.” He corrected her.