Vintage Volume Two

by Suzanne, Lisa

  We wouldn’t see each other until he was standing under the arbor where we’d be married. We agreed that we wouldn’t even talk to each other.

  But I wanted his comforting arms around me after the nightmare.

  At first, I couldn’t remember what it was about. I knew it was bad, but the details were missing.

  It was when I thought about seeing Parker waiting for me at the end of the aisle that the details came rushing back to me.

  In order to see Parker, I’d have to take my dad’s arm as he escorted me down the aisle to give me away.

  And the moment that thought flashed through my mind, all the morbid details of that dream washed back over me.

  Kimmy had slept over in my guest room. I had invited her to stay, and she said it was obviously a maid of honor duty to stay with the bride the night before the wedding.

  We stayed up later than we should have laughing and drinking wine. I didn’t get drunk because I didn’t want a hangover for my wedding day pictures, but I did get to know her better.

  I’d known plenty of siblings who didn’t get along, but Kimmy truly admired her brother. They were close friends who picked each other up after the tragic losses they’d endured. She confirmed for me that Parker was truly a good man who had been dealt a crap hand where his dad was concerned. He’d handled that in various ways, but he wanted happiness just like anyone else. And it was his sister who pointed out how it just took the right woman for him to see that the meaningless relationships he’d been in for the majority of his life had nothing on finding your one true love.

  At least I hadn’t woken up from my nightmare screaming. It wouldn’t have been the first time I had, but it probably would’ve scared the shit out of Kimmy.

  So instead of calling Parker to come wrap his loving, protective arms around me, I wrestled with whether or not to tell Kimmy about my dream.

  I took a shower, taking my time to shave my legs carefully, and then I let my hair dry naturally. I didn’t put on any make-up. I rubbed my favorite lotion everywhere. That was the extent of my beauty routine. Experts had been called in to take care of the rest.

  Rather than going somewhere to have our hair and make-up done, my dad had arranged for them to come to me. They’d been cleared by my dad’s security team, and they were apparently top notch and very highly recommended.

  I called my dad to make sure he was okay under the guise that I was just ensuring all of the details were taken care of. He assured me that everything was under control, and then made me promise that I wouldn’t worry about anything.

  I didn’t have the nerve to tell him that it was him who I was worried most about. Instead, I thanked God that my dad had answered when I called, and I pushed the awful dream out of my conscious thought.

  Kimmy and I had just finished rinsing our dishes from lunch when we heard a knock at the door.

  Our stylists had arrived. Brittany, the make-up artist, and Bethany, the hairstylist, were both young and stylish. While Bethany worked on Kimmy’s hair, Brittany worked on my make-up. Kimmy and I giggled as she told me stories about Parker as a teenager.

  Primping with a Coke and a woman who was the closest thing to a girlfriend I had helped me to snap out of my fog.

  George stopped by with two gift boxes somewhere between eye shadow and mascara. He set them both on my table with a smile.

  The first was a larger box. I tore open the card attached to the top.

  To our CC on her wedding day:

  We love you and couldn’t be happier for you. If you ever need anything, you know we’re both here for you. Always and Forever.

  Love, Mom and Dad

  I smiled at the card, tears threatening. I watched as Brittany sent up a silent prayer that she hadn’t done my eyeliner or (waterproof) mascara yet.

  My dad always signed my mom’s name on cards to me whether or not she was involved in the actual purchase of a gift. Come to think of it, she had never been involved in the actual purchase of any of my gifts. My dad had taken care of everything for my entire life, and here he was, throwing together a very last minute but perfect wedding celebration just to please me.

  He ended the card with the same phrase he usually did: Always and Forever. It was his predictability—or maybe it was the consistency—that provided a comforting harmony.

  The card caused tears to threaten. The contents inside of the box caused them to cascade.

  I opened the box and found several items: a delicate platinum and diamond jewelry set including a bracelet, necklace, and earrings that would match perfectly with my dress; a beautiful princess cut sapphire ring; a fragile lace handkerchief; and a set of crystal wine goblets.

  All of the items had notes under them, all written in my dad’s distinctive, masculine penmanship.

  The note under the jewelry said, Something new for you.

  The note under the sapphire ring said, Something blue for you.

  The note under the handkerchief said, Something borrowed. This belonged to your great-grandmother on my side. She wrapped it around her bouquet at her wedding.

  The note under the wine goblets said, Something old. My parents toasted their first drink as a married couple out of these glasses. And now you and Parker can continue the tradition.

  Kimmy read each piece of paper after I did. “Your dad is amazing,” she said, and I smiled because she was right.

  And then it was time for the second box. I’d barely recovered from my dad’s meaningful gifts, and there was more for me to open.

  The second box was much smaller than the first. There was a card accompanying it, and the front said, “To the future Mrs. James” in Parker’s handwriting.

  I tore it open. The envelope boasted “Flashing Light” on the outside. He’d used band stationery to write his letter to me.

  And the words written on the inside stole my heart.

  Jimi,

  How could I have possibly known when Gideon Price asked me to keep an eye on his daughter that I’d end up finding everything I need to survive this life?

  I used to be this guy who did whatever I wanted whenever I wanted to. I never put anyone else first because I never had to. I never wanted to. I never thought I would.

  But now there’s you.

  You’re everything to me. You’re what’s important. Our love and our future are all that matter, and I will spend each day for the rest of my life proving that I’m worthy enough to call you my wife. No part of me believes that I am, but I’ll do my best to be everything you need. You will be part of everything I think, say, and do for the rest of my life. And that starts today.

  I wrote some lyrics the night we first spoke at Vintage—when Flashing Light did our appearance. I’d been protecting you from afar before that, falling in love with what I knew of you, but it was that night when we finally spoke for the first time. You were such a smartass and so sexy, and that was the night I knew that someday I’d marry you. These words make up the refrain for a song that’s going on our next album, and you’re the first person outside of FL to see the lyrics. I hope you like it because it’s for you. See you in a few hours. I’ll be the sex god in a tux waiting for my goddess at the end of the aisle.

  Love You Forever,

  Parker James

  “My Forever”

  I’ve been watching you

  From across the room

  Across the street

  Wondering when

  We can finally meet

  I’ve been wondering

  What makes you moan

  If you’d like to fight

  What your eyes look like

  When I fuck you right

  I’ve been wanting you

  Since that first day

  And now I never

  Want to be without

  My forever

  It was one of those letters that I would cherish for the rest of my life. It was one of those letters that I’d never share with anybody else. This was just for my eyes. Always.

&nbs
p; Tears were streaming down my face as I read the words he’d written for me. It hadn’t been a long road, but it had certainly been a hard one.

  I was ready. This was rushed and scary and way too fast, but it was the way things were supposed to be. I knew that in my heart with absolute certainty.

  That little wave of love that Parker had mentioned less than a week earlier shuddered through me. I loved him with a fierceness that I’d never experienced before, and I knew that song lyrics he’d written for me were only the tip of the iceberg. We had a long, happy, and safe marriage ahead of us, and it was all set to begin in a few short hours.

  Kimmy glanced expectantly at the card as she waited for me to pass it to her. I grinned as I held it to my chest.

  And then she handed me the box.

  Once I’d read his words, I’d forgotten that there was more. I felt like the words he’d written for me—his song—were my gift. It was all I needed.

  I set the card on the counter and picked up the box. It was heavier than I expected. I tore the paper off of it and opened it to find a photo album.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held an actual album of photos in my hands. We all took pictures of everything, it seemed, on our phones. No one printed pictures anymore. As I held the closed album, I figured it had to have been middle school when I’d last created an album like this one.

  But when I opened it, I realized that I’d never created an album quite like this one.

  The first picture in the album happened to be the first one that Parker and I had ever taken together. It was a random selfie that he’d taken at the café at Vintage one afternoon after he’d gotten back from his first tour and before he’d finished writing his new album. A slip of paper in the plastic sleeve above the photo said “Our first picture” in Parker’s handwriting.

  I smiled at it because it was symbolic of everything we had been through. We were both smiling, but neither of us really wore a sincere smile. I’d been hesitant to get involved with a musician, and Parker had been fighting his feelings for me in his own way. As I looked at Parker, I could see the conflict behind his eyes. It was before he’d revealed who he was, before I knew he was protecting me and watching out for me.

  I studied the fear behind my own eyes. I could tell I was repressing how I really felt. Thanks to the man in the photo with me, I’d just gotten back the arsenal of emotions that had been missing for a long time, and I was too scared about what that might mean.

  Back then, I would never have pictured myself walking down the aisle with him only a few months later.

  I flipped to the next picture and saw Parker standing outside of the Wells Fargo Arena in Philadelphia. The picture was a little dark, a little far away, but I recognized that same conflict in his eyes. A smile stretched across his lips, and anyone else would’ve thought he looked like an excited musician taking photos outside of every venue where he toured.

  But I could tell that something was wrong. There was more at play behind the eyes that I’d gotten to know so well. The eyes I searched out in every room.

  The slip of paper above the picture said, “This was taken before you arrived. I was so nervous to see you and tell you what I’d been keeping from you. I learned my lesson, and I will never keep anything from you again. Team James forever.”

  I flipped through each picture and studied each caption that he took the time to write. Tears filled my eyes—again—as each of his words invaded my mind and filtered down to my heart. It was a chronicle of our relationship. Every stop on the tour was represented, and some of the captions had other memories, too—the pizza place in New York, the Walgreens and our “engagement” in Raleigh, songs that represented how he felt about me and little explanations about why he’d chosen certain ones he’d covered, and the final stop of the tour in New Orleans.

  None of the bad memories were recorded. None of the break-ins, not the stolen journal, not the fight that last night in New Orleans.

  When I looked at these pictures whenever I wanted to for the rest of my life, I would only remember the good stuff. I’d only remember the good memories Parker gave to me, not the horrific ones Randy created.

  twenty-seven

  After the gifts, Brittany finished my make-up and Bethany did my hair. She curled it in loose waves, pinning back pieces into the barrette I’d purchased with my dress. Before I even put on my gown, I felt like a princess. And when I finally slipped it on, I felt like a goddess.

  Before I knew it, I was sitting in a white Bentley with George behind the wheel as we made our way to my dad’s house. Kimmy allowed me to be lost in my thoughts as I stared out the window. It wasn’t a long drive, but the quiet of the car was peaceful and calming.

  “Are you doing okay?” Kimmy asked.

  I nodded. “Calmer than I was expecting.”

  George pulled into the driveway after flashing some credentials at the security team, and we were ushered into the house.

  Of all the people in the world who I didn’t want ruining the peaceful moments before I was about to walk down the aisle, my mother stood ready to greet me.

  “Oh Roxanna!” she whimpered when she saw me. “You look beautiful.”

  It would have been great if she’d left it at that. But that wasn’t her style. Instead, she reminded me all the reasons why I preferred her to be out of the country.

  “That dress, though. Is it old? It’s gorgeous, but it looks old. Also, your dad and his new wife are just the worst. I barely slept with the noises coming out of their room. And the backyard wedding. Isn’t it a little informal? Almost like a barbecue? I don’t know, Roxanna. Are you sure you don’t want to wait? Why are you rushing this?”

  I held up my hand. “Mother. Stop. If you don’t approve, you don’t need to attend.”

  I pushed my way past her toward my dad’s office.

  I turned back to Kimmy, who was grinning, and I caught my mom’s shocked face out of the corner of my eye. I ignored it. “Tell Parker that I’ll be the hot one in white.”

  She laughed, and then she turned on her quest to find her brother while I made my way toward my dad’s office.

  The office was empty, so I sat on the couch and looked around, in awe as always at all of the awards on the walls. When I really thought about it, it was pretty damn cool that Gideon Price was actually my father. He was an amazing man and the best dad a girl could ask for. I was truly blessed.

  The door opened and my dad stepped in.

  He looked handsome in his tuxedo. He was my daddy, but I could see why women swooned over him. His dark hair was a mess, the scruff on his cheeks and chin was a little more grown in than usual, and the same blue eyes that he’d passed down to me stared back at me.

  I felt immediate relief when I saw him. I’d been so busy all day between hair and make-up and getting dressed that I hadn’t really had time to process the fear that was nibbling at my conscience after my dream.

  I’d dreamt that Damien was going to die, and he had.

  So a dream that my dad was with Damien and Katie pressed a heavy weight upon my chest. I knew the natural order of life was to lose your parents before they lost you, but it was too early. My dad was healthy, young, and athletic. He had a long life ahead of him. Seeing him full of life in the doorway before me was pretty solid evidence.

  I stood from my position on the couch, and he stopped in the doorway and gazed at me for a moment.

  And then his face broke into a proud smile. “When did my little girl grow old enough to get married?”

  I rushed into his waiting arms. My dad wasn’t always perfect, but he was always comforting.

  “You look absolutely stunning, CC.” He kissed the top of my head.

  “Thank you for the thoughtful gifts, Daddy,” I murmured, trying my hardest not to cry again.

  “I wish I could have given you more. I would give you the world. You know that.”

  “You did. You brought Parker into my life, and he’s my world now.”

&
nbsp; My dad pulled back from our hug. “I couldn’t be more thrilled.”

  God, that one short conversation with my dad was so fucking different from the one with my mom. They were such different people that it was nearly impossible for me to imagine the two of them ever somehow getting together.

  The photographer my dad hired had given us a schedule of pictures to take before the wedding. The men were first, so my dad went out back while Kimmy hung with me in my dad’s office. She left when my dad came back so she could take pictures with her brother. Flashing Light was scheduled for a photo shoot, too, and once the men returned to their hiding place in my dad’s mansion, it was my turn. I met Kimmy and my family out by the arbor. I took some pictures with my mom, who was a little cold after I’d silenced her, and my dad. We even took a few with Jadyn.

  And somehow, at this point, I was pretty sure I preferred Jadyn’s company to my mother’s.

  But I still really disliked her, and I still didn’t trust a damn word out of her lying mouth. Today wasn’t the day to air my grievances, though.

  Time was passing quickly—too quickly. I barely had time to catch my breath before I was heading back inside.

  I glanced one last time toward the arbor where I’d stand with Parker less than an hour later. I drew in a cleansing, calming breath.

  My last moment outside was tranquil. Peaceful. The sun was starting its descent in the west, and the night sky would be beautiful for our outdoor wedding.

  The calm before the storm.

  twenty-eight

  My dad and I were alone in his office. I sat on the couch, and he leaned against the desk just a few feet away from me. He was handsome in his tuxedo. I’d seen him dressed up for various charity events over the years. He’d never been the type of rock star who wore a uniform of black jeans and black shirts all the time. He was different from my almost-husband in many ways, but they did share some similarities.