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

by Kylie Parker

  I miss you, James. I lie awake at night, thinking about you, wishing I was back in your arms, listening to your voice, making love to you… Forgive me, baby. I ruined everything by not being honest with you.

  All my love,

  Olivia”

  By the time James had finished reading Olivia’s letter, tears were flowing down his cheeks.

  “She told me about your identity.” Helen spoke, as he put the letter down on the table. “It kind of slipped her tongue. Then, she taught me how to act surprised.”

  “It’s ok.” James whispered, wiping the tears off his face.

  “You’ve just proved me right.” She smirked. “You’ve just proved I did the right thing this morning.”

  “What are you talking about?” He whispered, his voice barely audible as he looked down at her.

  “There’s still love there,” Helen remarked. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

  “That’s really kind of you,” James commented. “But, we started out as a lie. She kept the truth from me. I don’t know if I can trust her again.”

  “Don’t make me change my opinion about you,” she attempted a chiding tone.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Frustration was lingering in his voice.

  “It means that real men find the power to forgive.” Helen explained, leaning in towards him. “You’re a great writer; there’s no doubt about that. But, are you a great man?”

  “I think I’m starting to miss my young, drunk Helen.” James protested. “She didn’t talk like that.”

  “Drunk Helen never stood a chance.” Her bitter smile gave away her sadness. “She waited too long to make her move. She made a friend last night and that friend is hurting.”

  “What if I didn’t want to get back together with Olivia?” He wondered, his voice low and deep. “What if I wanted to start a relationship with you?”

  “That sounds very tempting.” Helen whispered, lowering her gaze. “But you’re still in love with her, and, like I said, I don’t want to get in the way.”

  “Helen…” James snorted. “We broke up almost a month ago. You wouldn’t get in the way.”

  “Judging by your tears and hers, I think I would.” She disagreed.

  “Thanks a lot for this.” James picked up the letter from the table. “You take care.”

  35

  “Ok, I’m starting to get tired of this,” Gina complained, pressing the “spacebar” button on Olivia’s computer. She had found her friend lying in bed, listening to George Michael’s “Careless Whisper”. “Why was your front door open again?”

  “Because, it’s too far from my laptop,” Olivia said, annoyance ringing in her voice.

  “Don’t you think it’s time you put this behind you?” Gina used a firm tone. “It’s not healthy, Liv.”

  “Cocaine is not healthy.” Olivia murmured, sitting up. “This is just me mourning.”

  “For too long,” Gina replied, putting a little force in her voice; “for way too long. I’d like to see my friend again. She used to be a pain sometimes, but I liked her. Any idea where she is? Because, I still don’t see her. Plus, I’m still a little mad at her for not telling me about that check.”

  “I’m right here, Gina,” Olivia maintained, bringing her knees up to her chest. “I was too ashamed to talk to you about it. I should have told him too, the moment he walked into that bar. Why didn’t I just do that?”

  “Only you can answer that question, my dear,” Gina made her voice sound sweeter. “My best guess? You liked him too much.”

  “That doesn’t justify anything,” Olivia uttered, her voice low and weak.

  “We’ve had this conversation a million times already,” Gina protested. “Why don’t you try to get used to the fact that you two are over?”

  “Because I still believe we can be together again.” Olivia’s voice shattered, as she raised her eyes to meet her friend’s. “Maybe it’s just wishful thinking; I don’t know. All I know is that I had to give it one last try.”

  “Meaning what exactly?”

  “I sent him a letter by way of Helen.” She replied softly, her voice a tender whisper as tears welled up in her eyes. “

  “With the Shandaken girl?!” Gina exclaimed. “Jesus Christ, Liv! You barely know her!”

  At that very moment, they were interrupted by the annoying noise of her apartment buzzer.

  “Please go get that,” Olivia requested. “That must be her.”

  “Oh, good God,” Gina gave an exasperated huff.

  “I’m not expecting you to understand, Gina,” Olivia thought to herself, leaving her bedroom. “You’ve been my best friend all my life, but you’re so goddamn unsentimental it makes me want to scream. I keep asking myself what you’d do if you were in my shoes. But then, I realize you just can’t. You wouldn’t let your guard down like I did. That’s not who you are.”

  “Hey, you guys,” Helen chirped, the broad smile on her face bringing a glimmer of hope to Olivia’s heart. “Traffic was crazy.”

  “No kidding,” Gina hummed.

  “I heard that,” Olivia glared at her. “She’s been to Shandaken and back twice in the past 24 hours. Cut her some slack, will you?”

  “Sorry,” Gina said.

  “Thanks for coming over, Helen,” Olivia said softly as she put her arms around her new friend. “Did you see him?”

  “Yes, I did.” Helen sighed. “I gave him the letter. It went a lot better than I hoped.”

  “What do you mean?” Olivia shivered with anticipation.

  “If he didn’t…” Helen faltered, “care, he would have ripped that letter to pieces. He didn’t; he read it right there in front of me; and he cried. I felt so embarrassed; I’ve never seen a man cry.”

  “What did he say?” Olivia waited with bated breath for Helen’s answer.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Helen whispered, exhaling deeply. “He’s still mad at you.”

  A gasp of despair left her lips, as she put her hands to her temples.

  “Don’t be sorry, Helen,” Olivia muttered. “I’m the one who should apologize for putting you through all this trouble. You’re wrong, though,” she added, sliding her hands down her face. “He’s not mad at me; he’s mad at the world.”

  “You’re right about that.” Helen shook her head.

  “Mad at the world?” The mocking tone in Gina’s voice grabbed their attention. “What kind of nonsense is that? He’s just a grumpy, antisocial moron if you ask me.”

  Olivia preferred to bite her lower lip, unwilling to dignify her friend’s remark with a rebuttal. Helen leaned over her and whispered in her ear:

  “When was the last time she got laid?”

  Olivia couldn’t stop the fit of laughter that her friend’s question brought on. She burst out giggling, slapping her palm at her forehead.

  “What did she say about me?” Gina attempted a stiff tone.

  “Nothing,” Olivia chuckled. “She just said you needed to lighten up.”

  “No, I don’t.” Gina declared, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “James is not antisocial, Gina.” Helen spoke in a calm, steady tone. “Maybe he’s a little weird, maybe kind of touchy, but antisocial? No. I’ve known him for a long time. My folks own a supermarket in Shandaken. Every time he walked in, he acted like someone was chasing him. I don’t think he ever spent more than five minutes in there. Once, I asked him about it. He said he was too busy to linger there. When I asked him what he did for a living, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. He just ran away.”

  “That sounds a lot like him.” Olivia commented.

  “You shouldn’t lose hope just yet.” Helen rubbed her on the shoulder.

  “Nothing I say gets through to him.” Olivia sighed. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Because I’m involved,” Helen winked at her. “Now, listen to me very carefully.”

  36

  James read Olivia’s tear-smudged letter over and over. It had moved him
, but also made him question his decision to quit. He didn’t focus on her words of love; reading the last paragraph hurt him even deeper. Instead, he turned his attention to the second one, where Olivia wrote:

  “I just hope you continue to write songs like the one you guys played last night.”

  These exact words had acted like a wakeup call. Should James quit, he would let her and thousands of people down; people who had loved and respected his work over the years. On top of that, he would lose the one and only thing he had always loved to do: writing lyrics. It wasn’t a matter of survival: he had made a lot of money as a writer; either way, he wasn’t doing this for the money. James had become a writer simply because it was the best way for him to express himself.

  The following afternoon, he visited Howard Peterson’s office to announce to him his decision. His secretary Gwen tried to prevent him from barging in, but her words passed by him unheard. To his disappointment though, his boss wasn’t there.

  “Mr. Farrell, I told you Mr. Peterson is not here!” Gwen spoke in her squeaky voice. “He’s at a meeting downstairs!”

  “Then I’ll wait for him.” James said, looking down at her over his right shoulder. “He and I need to talk.”

  The wait gave him some time to scan Howard’s office. The picture-lined walls brought back happy memories of the singers he had worked with in the past: Gold records, millions of sales and award nominations. Amazingly, Howard still kept his picture on his desk.

  “I guess you’re not such a greedy prick after all. Damn it, James. You made a rush decision. Just how in the hell could you walk away from all this?”

  “Well, well, well…” Howard’s aging voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “The prodigal son returns. Gwen said you wanted to talk to me.”

  “Yeah,” James said with a nod. “I’m staying. Quitting was a terrible call.”

  James expected him to smile or at least give him a cordial hug. But, he did no such thing. Howard sucked in a deep breath and dropped his eyes to the floor.

  “It wouldn’t hurt to show some enthusiasm,” James sarcastically remarked.

  “I’m happy, son.” Howard claimed. “I’m really glad to have you back; but what about Michelle? Can you work with her? If you can’t, I’m going to have to break her contract. She doesn’t want to work with anyone else but you.”

  The mere mention of Michelle’s name made his heart sink. In an instant, moments from the long days they had worked together and the night of the concert returned to his mind. Along with them though, came the horrifying memory of his abduction: Maureen’s angry face and the time when he found himself staring death in the eye were enough to give him chills. Nonetheless, his ordeal was over. Maureen was safely behind bars and he had survived. With Helen’s words about forgiveness ringing in his ears, James decided to put everything behind him.

  “I believe Freddy Mercury put it very eloquently.” James said, a small smile spreading across his face.

  “What’s that?”

  “The show must go on.” James’ smile widened. “Tell her I’ll do it.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Peterson’s brown eyes sparkled with happiness, as he approached him. The two men exchanged a cordial hug, before the CEO picked up his phone.

  “Gwen, send her in.” He said. James was about to ask who he was referring to, but a simple look through the glass wall gave him the answer. Michelle was hurtling towards him, with a huge, blissful smile on her face. She pulled the door open and lunged towards James, knocking him off balance. He landed flat and hard on his back.

  “Thank you,” she whimpered, her hands on his chest as she laid short kisses all over his right cheek. “Thank you so much.”

  “This calls for a celebration.” Howard suggested, smiling down at them.

  “First, you have to get her off of me.” James complained.

  “Sorry.” She grinned, leaning back. “You’ve just made me the happiest woman on Earth.”

  “What do you have in mind?” He asked, rising to his impressive, 6’3” height. “Don’t tell me it’s going to be another one of those boring dinners.”

  “Nah; hell no,” Howard rejected that notion. “This isn’t some ‘PR’ crap. What’s the best bar in Shandaken?”

  “The Brown Oak,” James replied. “Why?”

  “We’ll go there, have a couple of drinks and then you two can entertain the locals.” Howard explained. “It’ll be warm and cozy, nothing like a New York venue.”

  “Should I mention why I don’t like that idea?” James responded sarcastically once again.

  “I’m sure the locals know you play the guitar and the piano. Rick’s told me he’s seen a 100-Watt amplifier in your cabin. That thing is loud enough to wake the dead, for God’s sake. You don’t have to tell them what you do. All you have to do is play the piano.” Howard’s idea sounded appealing. There was no risk of exposure whatsoever and he would be in a familiar place. Still, “Brown Oak” was not a live music bar.

  “There’s no piano in that bar,” James pointed out.

  “That’s just a technicality,” Peterson laughed. “We’ll bring one. So, you’re in?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “It would be better if I played the guitar and Michelle played the piano, though. The sound’s much richer. Should we practice anything or…?”

  “Just play whatever comes to mind.” Howard interjected. “Ten songs should do.”

  37

  “To the future,” Four glasses clanked against each other, as Michelle proposed a toast. James sipped some whiskey and then looked left, down at the piano in the middle of “Brown Oak” bar.

  “I’ll have to wear a helmet this time.” He remarked. “People will know who I am, the moment they see me holding that guitar.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, James,” Rick’s frustration laden voice responded to his friend. “I thought you were ‘ok’ with this. Would you prefer a corner? It’s a lot more private.”

  “He’s not used to this.” Michelle tried to defend him. “It’s not easy for anyone, especially if he’s been living in solitude, like he has. Thanks again, James. It means a lot to me that you agreed to work with me again.”

  “We had a lot of fun the first time, Michelle.” James spoke in a lazy tone. “It took a lot of time and effort, but it went well.”

  “Well?” She gave a derisive snort. “Not just well. I mean, until a month ago, all kinds of creeps wanted me to sign their boxer shorts. Now, I sign real autographs. I’ve signed hundreds of them, since the concert. Your lyrics put me on the map, James.”

  “Give yourself some credit,” he advised. “You wrote the music. Lyrics mean nothing if the music sucks.”

  “… and vice versa,” Rick spoke his mind, putting his two cents in.

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Michelle smiled. At that moment, James noticed Helen, strutting towards their table.

  “Heyyyy!” she sang. “How are you? You never said you were playing here tonight. That’s awesome! Oh, my God!” she opened her eyes wide, turning her gaze to Michelle. “Michelle Adams? I totally loved your performance the other night. It was so wonderful.”

  “Thanks a lot.” Michelle said with a grin.

  “Can I have an autograph? No, wait. I’ve just had a t-shirt printed with your picture on. Could you please, please sign it? It’s in my truck.” Helen spoke in a squeaky, girlish voice.

  “Okay.” Michelle chirped.

  “That sweet-ass chick’s not too bright, is she?” Rick nudged James with his shoulder.

  “Trust me,” James smirked. “She’s a lot smarter than she looks.”

  “James, this place is packed,” Howard broke his silence. “Don’t you think you ought to get started?”

  “Patience is a virtue,” James teased, raising his glass to his lips. “Besides, the Blondie’s kidnapped Michelle. Who’s going to do the singing?”

  “I think tonight’s going to be fantastic.” Howard continued. “I like this bar. It�
��s large, wide… and the acoustics are pretty damn good.”

  “The acoustics are a hell of a lot better in my backyard,” James attempted an emphatic tone.

  “Yeah,” Rick said, a devilish smile on his face as he patted his friend on the shoulder. “Especially because there’s a 1500-foot cliff under it.”

  “Precisely,” James agreed, watching as Michelle returned to their table. “The echoes make the whole experience even better.”

  “How did it go?” Rick asked, as she hopped back on her stool.

  “I signed four t-shirts,” Michelle bragged. “Helen is crazy about me.”

  “Never say ‘no’ to a fan,” Howard advised. “They pay the bills; remember that.”

  “Oh, I will.” Michelle assured. “Man, it’s been crazy these past few days.”

  At that moment, every light in the bar went out.

  “Oh, crap!” James whispered in despair, as the customers started to complain. “Power outage?”

  “Nope,” Michelle said, flicking a lighter in front of her. “Come here.” She whispered, curling her finger.

  “What is it?” James wondered, leaning forward.

  “I’m not singing ‘Olivia’ tonight.” She went on.

  “What?” He couldn’t keep his voice down. “Why?”

  Michelle did not answer his question. Instead, she pointed down at the piano. Two candles had been placed on each side of it. Nothing in this world could have prepared him for what he saw next. It was still a little too dark, but, he recognized the person sitting at it, immediately, as the pale light reflected off her face. It was Olivia. Before he knew it, her soft, melodic voice filled the air. She was starting to sing the song named after her. James hopped off his stool, unable to believe his eyes or his ears. Smiling to himself, he took a deep breath. In an instant, he was filled with the desire to play and sing with her. He had no time to waste. Olivia had already sung half of the first verse. He rushed towards the guitar stand, grabbed his acoustic and strapped it around his neck. Every hair on his body was raised, as he leaned over his microphone. James closed his eyes, losing himself in the moment, as her beautiful, majestic voice resounded through the dark bar, flooding his heart with emotion. Passion exploded inside him, as he sang her name. This time, his deep, manly voice would be softer and raspier than ever before, as James gave the performance of a lifetime…