by Rachel Smith
I tried to stifle a giggle as I took in the ice cream pails full of green beans, cucumbers, radishes and peas covering the kitchen table. A large pot full of boiling water sat on the stove and my eyes stung from the strong stench of dill. Didn’t she know they sold this stuff in grocery stores? Her daughter was a millionaire and she still tended to her garden to stock up for the winter like their lives depended on it.
“Holy shit, Lillian,” Dad said from behind me. “How long are you staying?”
“Daniel Raftzen, do not swear in front of the kids!” Mama scolded.
“Woman, I am sixty-two years old and I can talk whatever way I want.”
Damn, it was good to be home. My parents were a hoot. Mom played the part of the little country housewife to a tee, always acting offended when Dad would cuss or drink too much beer. And Dad was the tough guy trying to constantly ruffle her feathers. They could bicker back and forth for hours and no one would come out the winner. It was better to watch than any movie.
“Lillian, answer me.” He looked directly into my eyes.
“Til I can find a house,” I replied with a shoulder shrug.
Mama and Dad stopped immediately and listened. I told them how I started my plan the weekend they saw my show in Des Moines six months ago. I needed to have enough time to get everything wrapped up and finished on all my obligations before I could disappear completely out of the scene. Dad was concerned I hadn’t been thorough and someone would sue me. I assured him that Mr. Vangoal had taken every precaution so that wouldn’t happen. But if it did, I’d deal with it then. Mama’s worry, of course, was that I would wake up one morning and regret my decision. I had a hard time seeing that happening. They had spent the majority of that first year with me on the road after I made it big, so it was no mystery to them the trials of celebrity life. The label thought it was a good idea to have them around while I got adjusted to the limelight.
After a while, Mama knew. I’d only been in the business a few years and already I was not myself. She had that motherly sense that something was not quite right. I played it off as being stressed out with all my responsibilities, but she knew. It was too soon for me to be jaded from fame. Something had happened to make me that way.
“You ran away,” I heard a voice say behind me. I was standing at the bar filling my tray of glasses with fresh champagne. I turned toward the voice. I already knew who it was.
“My apologies, Mr. Jefferson,” I said quickly. “But I need to get back to work.”
“Please, call me Colton.”
All I could do was nod as I put the last of the champagne glasses on my tray. He was standing so close that the scent of his cologne made my mouth water. To be a man in position to make or break people’s lives AND be sexy as hell was just a crime.
“Okay…Colton,” I said hesitantly. “Is there anything I can get you?”
His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled slowly. “Well honey, I’m not sure there’s anything behind that bar that I’m interested in.” He paused and tilted his head to the side to catch my eyes. “But you, now that’s a different story.” His eyes slid from mine and roamed down my body. “A singer, huh? I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”
I simply nodded. Words were caught so far down in my throat, I don’t think I could have spit them out if I tried.
He brought his gaze slowly back up my body and looked into my eyes. A small smile tugged at the corners of his perfectly shaped lips. “You are, quite possibly, the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”
I was able to muster a meager “Thank you,” while continuing to stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
Reaching for a glass of champagne, he brushed his body extremely close to mine. His lips barely grazed the shell of my ear as he whispered, “See you around, Lily.”
“Well, you’re home now, Baby Girl.” Mama’s words brought me back to reality. “And I think once you get settled and have a good home cooked meal in your belly, things will have a whole new perspective. I’ll get a meatloaf going so we can eat at a decent time.”
I nodded and gave her a small smile. My mama. She was one of a kind. I knew she was proud of me because she told me often. I learned quickly though that my success was not what defined me to her. To her, I was just Lillian. Her only daughter. Her millionaire daughter who she refused to let spoil her.
A few years back, I flew my parents down to Nashville for Christmas. I wanted to wine and dine them; give them a little taste of the high life. Sitting in the Stockyard Restaurant I explained how Blake Shelton had recorded his video for Hillbilly Bone there. I knew my Dad would get a kick out of that. After we consumed our giant steaks I handed an envelope across the table to Mama.
I had paid off their farm loan at the bank. It was officially theirs. I knew Dad had taken the loan to buy out his brothers after his parents died and left it equally to all of them. For him to pay in full, it would have taken years upon years. For me, I just nodded my head to my accountant and a check for $784,000 was cut to me by the end of the week.
They declined, of course. Mama cried and Dad just shook his head before he tore it in half and set it on the table. It was then they gave me the speech about money not being able to buy you happiness, and that Dad’s life goal was to work hard and buy that farm outright himself.
The next year I gave them each a new sweater. Totally lame. Apparently they hadn’t shared my attempted buy out with my brothers because they all sent texts giving me shit about being so rich and buying Mom and Dad a sweater for Christmas. I chose not to share with them that they were from Brunello Cucinelli’s fall line and cost me over three thousand dollars. Each.
On that thought, I stood from the table and grabbed my small luggage bag. My dad shouldered the rest and we headed up the steep staircase to my bedroom. Mama was already back to her garden goodies.
“Hurry and get settled,” she called as I started up the stairs. “When you get back down we’ll get to work on the green beans.”
“Oh joy,” I muttered under my breath.
I jogged up the wooden stairs and rounded the railing before heading to my childhood room. I’ll admit I was a little nervous to open the door to my past not knowing what to expect. I stopped in my tracks when I saw the room in front of me.
Gone was anything remotely resembling my life. Not that I expected them to keep a shrine to me, but come on. I wasn’t just Lillian Raftzen. I was LilyRae - country music superstar. I had multiple awards to my name, including seven Grammy’s and the ever coveted ‘Entertainer of the Year’ Award.
Man I remember the backlash of winning that damn thing. The jealousy and backstabbing that followed almost broke me. Apparently I was ‘too young’ and hadn’t ‘been around’ long enough to appreciate the fact that I won. I was so upset. I mean, it’s not like I stood up on that stage and said ‘neener neener neener’ to all the people that I beat out. I was very humbled by the entire experience. I even choked up to the point I had to cut my acceptance speech short.
Damn industry.
Anyway, the room before me was not my room. They had turned my room into an actual guest room. A nice bed sat in the center under the double windows. The warm colors of the bedspread matched nicely with the wheat colored walls.
I plopped my bags down with a thud and whipped around to face my Dad. “Where’s my shit?” I snipped.
“Settle down, sweetheart,” he answered calmly but still chuckled at me. “We didn’t just throw everything out. It’s all up in the attic.”
Well that was good news. The last thing I needed was some sick pervert from my hometown snuggling up at night with my old bedding.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “Listen, I know things are going to be a little different with me being back here. I imagine there will be a small media storm once it hits that I’ve left the business. We all still need to watch what we do to some extent.”
My parents had always been very good about keeping my life in Iowa private. The s
ame could not be said for some of my classmates.
About a year after I became famous there was some big expose’ in one of the tabloids. Some idiot from my high school class saying I was a party animal in high school that spread my legs for anyone with a dick. Of course he had a picture of me at a keg party my senior year. I was holding a beer cup in my hand and dancing with Johnny Trellis. As per usual back in the day, I was having a great time. Apparently, Johnny was getting a little frisky with his hands on my ass when someone snapped the picture. He was buddies with Justin so I didn’t feel the need to bust his chops. Plus, he was super good looking.
‘LilyRae – the sordid details of her trashy high school years’ was the caption on the cover of the magazine. Funny thing was, I only had one drink at that party. About the time that picture was probably taken Justin had some sort of fit that I ended up dealing with the rest of the night. He got in a fight, no surprise, which ended with two buddies pulling him off the other guy. His knuckles were bloody and he had a cut on his lip. He had such a temper back then with everyone, except me. I drug him away from the party and we spent the rest of the night driving around dirt roads listening to music until he calmed down and eventually took me home.
Dad situated all my luggage inside the room and was standing in the door frame.
“Glad to have you back home, Lil,” was all he said before he turned and walked back downstairs to help Mama.
I sat down on the bed and powered up my phone. It did feel good to be home. After spending that first year on the road with my parents, it was very hard to let them go. I had made sure every few months that they met me at a nearby venue or I’d fly them out to see me. I even went so far as doing the same for my brothers and their wives.
I had three older brothers; Alan, James and Michael. My sisters-in-law got a kick out of being backstage at my concerts. Especially the time my opening act was The Dirt Road Crew. Five hot guys. I’ll amend that – five hot tattooed musicians. Those girls turned into cougars on the prowl. My brothers were beyond annoyed. Once they started having babies though, it wasn’t as easy for them to pack up and come party with me. So instead I started a trust fund for all seven of my nieces and nephews. Every quarter, the interest I made on certain investments was shifted into their accounts. Besides having college completely covered, it was likely they’d each have enough money to set themselves up after college with a house and car without having to deal with much, if any, bank loans.
It was the least I could do. My brothers loved to torment me growing up, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t share the wealth with their spawns. And I knew it drove my oldest brother, Alan, bat shit crazy. He busted his butt every day as the town cop and his kids were getting a jackpot basically handed to them. What none of my brothers knew was, I set them up the same account they can access when they turn fifty-five. That way they can enjoy retirement a little early if they chose to.
Hey, I’m not going to be able to spend it all. And really, from now on there wouldn’t be a whole lot extra going into any of those accounts. So they would just keep earning on their current balance.
I looked down at my phone. I had ninety-seven new emails, thirty-six texts, and fourteen voicemails since this morning. I put my elbows to my knees and hung my head. Why couldn’t I just be left alone? I didn’t even look to see if Colton had left any of those messages. I couldn’t deal with him right now. I’m sure the certified letter he received today sent him into a tailspin. I was his bread and butter, among other things, and I knew he wouldn’t want to lose either.
I tossed my phone onto my dresser and sighed. I didn’t want to deal with any of it anymore. I was so tired. Tired of running around all the time. Tired of having to look like a model just to go get groceries, because someone with a camera was likely taking my picture while I shopped for food. Tired of all the lies, the backstabbing, the bribes and the bullshit.
“No more,” I whispered into the mirror. I needed to sort through my bags. While I didn’t pack everything I owned, I knew I had enough options to get me by until the rest of my things were sent here. My choice for the night was a comfy pair of soft sweatpants and a t-shirt. The only thing I had to worry about at the moment was helping my folks with the garden work.
Chapter 4
Iwoke up the next morning feeling rested and refreshed. The night before, I helped Mama get all caught up with her gardening, ate a giant slice a meatloaf that would send my personal trainer into cardiac arrest, and curled up on the comfy couch with my Dad to watch reruns of Hogan’s Heroes.
It was awesome.
I sat there wondering when I last had such a relaxing night. Sarah and I would try to veg out after shows or while traveling to the next city, but I was still on a moving bus. Never in the comfort of my own home without having to worry about what tomorrow would bring.
Last night I was able to fully relax, knowing the next day was a clean slate for me to choose whatever my little heart desired. I was so giddy I didn’t know what to do with myself.
“Good morning, Baby Girl,” Mama greeted as I walked down the steps and into the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” I answered her. I sat at the table and stretched my arms up above my head. I had put my cell phone into the pocket of my robe before I came downstairs and could feel it vibrating against the seat of the chair.
I groaned as I reached into the pocket to see who felt like giving me an earful this early in the morning. I smiled when I saw the name that lit up my screen.
“Sarah Beara!” I screeched into the phone. “How are things, chickadee?”
“Lil, you are the talk of the town, sweetheart,” she replied.
I sighed, “Good or bad?”
“Well, a little of both,” she answered.
“Okay, give it to me straight. I know I said I was falling of the face of the earth and what not, but I need to know what I’m up against here.”
“The good news is that I checked in with Mr. Vangoal this morning and everyone accepted their termination yesterday without too much fuss. It’s not one hundred percent for sure yet, but I think you’re in the clear for any lawsuits.”
“Whew,” I whispered.
“Yeah, except, well, I haven’t heard anything out of Colton yet,” she went on. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But knowing him…I wouldn’t get my hopes set too high that he’ll let this go peacefully.”
“Of course not,” I replied. Damn.
“First word out this morning is that you’re in a rehab facility for alcohol abuse. Again not a big deal because according to the tabloids you’ve been there hundreds of times already.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “I hate this shit. I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it’s so annoying.”
“Lillian, mouth.” I heard my mother say from the sink. She didn’t even turn to look at me, which I took as her telling me to watch my mouth, but she wasn’t actually going to DO anything about it.
“Okay,” Sarah went on, “so you should be cool for a while, but I’m guessing once it gets out that you’re back home in Iowa you could possibly get some visitors. And I don’t mean old colleagues who miss you – I mean the ones who shove a camera in your face and try to catch you picking the underwear out of your butt.”
Super awesome. Just what this town needs is me gallivanting through Main Street with a mob of photographers at my heels.
“I’m afraid we won’t be able to help it, Sarah,” I said. “With social media now that shit will spread like wildfire.”
Mama walked by and snapped her dishtowel at me for swearing again. I tried to dodge her efforts and nearly dropped my phone.
“Right, well, I gotta run,” she said. My BFF, always on the go. I hadn’t asked her what her plans were now that I no longer needed her services, mostly because she was on clean up from my decision. I kept her on payroll, along with Mr. Vangoal, until everything was tied up neatly and completely finished. And even then I made sure in Sarah’s termina
tion contract that she was covered financially.
“Bye, chickadee. Come see me soon, okay?” I said.
“You bet. Love ya!”
“Love you too,” I replied.
I smiled as I put my phone back into my robe pocket. I picked up the steaming cup of hot coffee and brought it to my lips. Closing my eyes, I savored the sense of peace that washed through me as I swallowed the delicious warmth.
“Mmmmm,” I hummed and opened my eyes.
Rehab. Just great. If they only knew that I was rarely ever drunk. That only got me into big trouble.
“What the hell was that all about?” Sarah asked as she brought her empty tray to the bar.
“What?”
“What? Are you kidding me? Um…Colton Jefferson looks like he wants to eat you for dinner, Lil.”
I could feel my face get warm again with my blush. I slid my eyes to the side and noticed him talking to a group of men in suits. His eyes caught mine and I realized Sarah was right. It was hard to miss the hunger in his eyes.
After the party we decided to walk across the street to grab a drink. It was a tradition for us and I looked forward to some time with my friend. I barely had the back door opened when a strong hand wrapped around my wrist.
“Hi,” I breathed as I looked up and saw him again.
“Can you accompany me for drink?” Colton asked.
“Sorry,” I replied, “Sarah and I have plans.”
“Oh, actually I have to get home. Big day tomorrow. Lots to do!” she shouted as she walked the other direction. “You kids have fun!”
I was SO going to have words with her about this tomorrow.
“Hmm, looks like you are free.”
I turned around and looked at him. He was, by far, the hottest man I’d ever seen in my life.
“I guess so. Lead the way.”
We went to a karaoke bar which seemed a little strange. I sat down at a table in the back and Colton sat right next to me, draping his arm across the back of my chair.