The whole mess was so confusing and overwhelming it made her head hurt. They were approaching Nashville, and she pulled on her sunglasses to dim the glare of the sun. Up ahead, she saw road signs for the I-40 W. Huntsville/Memphis exit. It was two miles away.
The questions swirled around her head. Why was Gloria so angry with her father? Why had he given up Ray? Why had he — or Larry — left it up to her to reach out to Gloria for help?
All she had were questions. And only one man had all the answers.
They passed under the sign announcing that the exit to Memphis was one mile away.
“Jacques?”
“Yeah, babe?”
Rainey swallowed, her heart in her throat. “Can we make a detour?”
Jacques eyes shot to hers. “Memphis?” he asked, though it was clear in his gaze he didn’t need to.
“Yeah.” Her voice shook, but she gave a nod.
Jacques flipped on his right blinker, giving Rainey three hours to figure out what she was going to say to her daddy.
They exited I-40 onto Sam Cooper Boulevard just after one-thirty. It was a Tuesday afternoon. And, as Larry had said, her father was in the middle of recording an album. Which could only mean one thing.
Rainey could find him at Young Avenue Sound.
He’d cut his last two albums at the studio located in the heart of the Cooper-Young neighborhood. Rainey had never been there, of course, but she knew her father liked the midtown location for its soulful feel. And he’d become a regular at the Young Avenue Deli one block away and Tart Cafe, his favorite pastry shop, around the corner.
These were the kinds of things he talked about. Memphis. The vibe. The local color. His favorite haunts. Nothing more substantial. Nothing serious.
So, she knew exactly where he’d be.
They found the studio easily enough but had to circle the block to find a spot for the Impala, and before they even parked the car, Archie’s distressed whine seemed to give voice to the vibes Rainey must have been sending.
“I’ll walk him,” Jacques offered, setting the car in park and killing the engine.
“Let’s walk him together. Maybe it’ll help settle my nerves.”
Jacques reached over and grabbed her hand. “I’m here. I’ll be right beside you.”
Rainey let her breath go. It still felt like she had a bag of sand in her stomach, but the reassurance of his presence helped.
“I know my dad. This is probably pointless.” She was talking to herself almost as much as she was to him.
Jacques gave her an assessing frown. “Why are we here, Rainey?”
She could tell by the look on his face that he knew the answer. Jacques was making her say the words aloud to cement her purpose.
“We’re here for answers.” The words were true, but she spoke them almost like a question, sounding unsure and afraid. When would she ever be more than a spineless weakling?
He nodded. “Anything else?”
Rainey heaved a sigh. “I don’t… I don’t know.”
Jacques’s assessing gaze didn’t falter, but he gave her a slow nod. “You’re entitled to answers,” he said, his deep voice resonating with conviction. It was almost enough to convince her. “You’re entitled to more than answers.”
Rainey felt her throat tighten and her nose sting. The man by her side had absolute faith in her. Maybe she could at least pretend to have faith in herself. She nodded back. “More than answers.”
With that, they stepped out into the Memphis afternoon. The sky was cloudless, the day considerably warmer than the one before. They’d had to park on New York Street, and as they made their way up the residential side, Archie happily marked every lamppost and hedgerow.
Jacques held her hand, but they walked in silence, Rainey lost in her thoughts. Her heart thumped almost painfully. She was afraid, but she wasn’t a hundred-percent sure why. It was as though she knew danger loomed, but she couldn’t discern which corner hid it.
They reached the back of the studio, their eyes scanning its imposing white-on-white brick facade. No side entrance welcomed them, only two signs that read Young Avenue Sound — Private Parking — Towing Enforced.
As they rounded the corner on Young Avenue, Rainey started to wonder if it would be difficult to even get inside. If her father and his band were mid-recording, would they even gain admittance?
But when they reached the front entrance, Rainey simply pushed the door open and found herself in a sleek vestibule. Soft lighting, mounted art, and stylish but welcoming seats and settees flushed out the space.
And the world hushed.
Until light, padded footsteps announced someone’s arrival, and Jacques and Rainey turned to see a young woman clad in a sleeveless striped sweater and skintight Capris nearly tiptoe into the room.
“Well, what have we here?” she crooned, taking in the three of them but letting her eyes settle on Archie. “Hey, puppy.”
The woman — who looked to be in her mid-twenties — wore old-fashioned white-rimmed cat-eye glasses, and she styled her jet-black hair in a high ponytail that flipped up at the ends like a cartoon character’s.
When she said nothing more, Rainey stepped forward and cleared her throat. “Um… i-is Doc Dylan Reeves recording here today?”
The woman blinked at her, a veil of detached professionalism settling over her features. “I’m sorry, but all of our session bookings are private and off-limits to the public.” She spoke as though she’d memorized the little speech and had delivered it countless times.
Rainey balked at the woman’s canned pronouncement, but she made herself step forward. “We’re not the public,” she said and then shook her head. “I mean, I know Dylan Reeves. He’s my father.”
With her eyes shuttering in stunned surprise, the woman inched back. “I-I beg your pardon?”
Rainey took another step farther into the room, her nerves leveling off a little. As promised, Jacques remained right by her side. “I’m Rainey Reeves, and I need to see my dad. Is he here?”
The woman’s mouth fell open slightly as though Rainey had said something shocking and unpleasant. Rainey frowned at her response that seemed so out of place.
“You’re his daughter?” the woman asked, stressing the word as though it were scandalous.
“She’s said it twice,” Jacques answered, his voice forcing both women to look up at him. “Is the man here or not?”
This shook the receptionist out of her stupor, and she stammered. “Y-yes. They’re in the middle of a session right now, but he’s here.” She strode over to the desk near the front windows. “I-I’ll just leave word that you’re here, Miss Reeves.”
“Thank you.” Rainey said the words almost without realizing. Her attention was lost on the woman’s obvious distress. Why was Rainey’s presence so disturbing?
The woman sat down at her desk and typed a quick missive on her sleek laptop. An email? A chat message? Rainey couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, she knew it would make absolutely no noise in the recording studio.
Rainey looked up at Jacques to see his eyes on her. His bore a question, and she read immediately what it meant.
Are you okay?
She gave a slight lift of her chin to indicate that she was, indeed, okay — even if her legs shook beneath her, and her stomach wanted to turn itself inside out. Jacques stepped closer, entwined their fingers, and eased into her space. As though her space were their space.
She looked up into his eyes, those dark pools of warmth. And her legs grew steadier, her breath coming deeper.
The sound of tapping drew her attention away from Jacques, and she found the receptionist watching her, the tip of her pen beating a rapid staccato against her desk blotter.
Their eyes held for an awkward moment, prompting Rainey to speak. “Any idea how long they’ll be?”
The woman inhaled, and her lips parted, but she didn’t speak immediately. “It shouldn’t be much longer.”
She stood then, he
r eyes never leaving Rainey. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and openly stared.
Beside her, Rainey felt Jacques shift even closer.
A scurrying sound came from the hall to their right just as the receptionist spoke again. “I didn’t know that—”
“Rainbow, what are you doing here?” Larry practically raced into the lobby and came to a halt in front of them, his wide eyes moving from Rainey to Jacques and back. Rainey hadn’t seen Larry since he’d come down with her dad one weekend in October. The man she’d known all her life looked the same — even if his graying mane held a little grayer. But it was clear to Rainey that while he looked the same, he also looked surprised, and Rainey sensed that it wasn’t pleasantly so.
“Hi, Larry. Good to see you,” she said pointedly. “I need to talk to my dad.”
Her answer, which should have been obvious, didn’t seem to register or affect Larry at all. He still wore his look of surprise. His mouth worked a few times before he actually spoke. “I-I wish you would have called,” Larry said, running a hand over his hair and accentuating his already pronounced, dead-center part. One either side of it, his gray hair fell in matching waves. His feathered style would have been right at home in 1982. “We’re in the middle of an album, and you know how long the hours are. I—”
“I know, Larry, but I’m here now, and I need to see him.” Rainey worked successfully to keep any pleading notes out of her voice. She felt the urgency, but Rainey refused to let herself sound like she was asking for something she wasn’t entitled to. He was her father, for Christ’s sake.
Larry just gave her a helpless shrug. “I’m just saying it may be hours before we call it a day, and—”
She felt Jacques stiffen beside her, but she spoke first. “Call it a day? Larry, I’m not waiting for him to finish an album. I want to talk to him now.”
That’s when Rainey noticed the sweat beading near his temples. Why the hell was he trying to keep her from talking to her father? What was he afraid of?
She glowered at him. “Does my father even know I’m here?”
Larry shook his head and held up a hand. “Not just yet, but I will give him a message that—”
“This is bullshit,” Jacques boomed beside her. The room shook with the explosion of his words, and Larry actually took a step back. “Either you get Dylan Reeves out here to talk to his daughter, or I’ll knock down every door in this building and drag his ass out.”
If Rainey hadn’t witnessed his outburst, she would have never believed it. Jacques stood tall, his shoulders suddenly broader than she’d ever seen them. He looked larger than life. Larger, even, than he did on stage. And while she’d seen him be stubborn and maybe even defiant — as he had been in the hotel lobby when she’d insisted on paying — she’d never seen him angry.
But Jacques looked menacing.
This was surprising on its own, but what really took Rainey off-guard was how much she liked it. She’d always had people in her life who loved her, people who cared for her.
But this was the first time she’d ever seen anyone fight for her.
Her speechless awe was interrupted when Larry, scowling, notably stepped farther away from Jacques. “I’m guessing you’re the young man I spoke to the other day. Rainey’s friend.”
Jacques’s jaw ticked. “Buddy, I am way more than her friend, so lose the attitude.” The look in his eyes sent tingles rushing from her solar plexus to her toes. Not because it carried a threat, but because of its intensity. The look carried a vow.
She tucked the moment in her heart to take it out and examine it later, and she turned to Larry.
“What’s going on, Larry?”
He frowned, pressed his lips together, and blinked like he had something in his eye. Then he blew out a frustrated breath, and his shoulders dipped a little. “When Lacey sent the text that you were here, I knew what was up. You’re here because of Gloria, aren’t you?”
Conviction ascended through her spine. “I’m here for a lot of reasons, Larry. Why are you trying to keep me from seeing my father?”
Larry’s body responded as though she’d struck him. “I’m not — I’m not trying to keep you from seeing him,” he defended.
Rainey crossed her arms over her chest. “Then what the hell’s going on? I feel like we just stepped into Oz.”
“Okay, fine,” Larry admitted, shaking his head, shamefaced. “I’m just trying to stall.”
“Why are you trying to stall?” Jacques asked, stepping slightly forward as though offering Larry a reminder of his presence — and his proximity.
Larry assessed him and shook his head. “Because I didn’t expect this,” he said, gesturing to them with upturned palms. “I haven’t told Dylan yet that I spilled the beans. I didn’t think you’d show up here with all your questions. At least not this soon.”
Rainey narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you think?”
His face seemed to sag. His whole posture seemed to sag. “I figured you’d call back, and I’d intercept you before you talked to Dylan.”
Rainey slapped her thighs. “Why didn’t you just own up that you’d told us about Ray? I mean, you couldn’t hide that forever.”
His patronizing look made her jaw clench. “I know that, Rainbow. But I’d been trying to talk him into telling you, and when that didn’t work, I was trying to get him to give me his blessing to share the secret.” Larry crossed his arms over his chest. “It would have worked, too, if you wouldn’t have raced over here.”
Rainey felt her eyebrows leap. “Raced? It’s been five days since I spoke to you, Larry. Holi’s life is at stake. I think that warrants a sense of urgency.” Her voice was climbing as her bewilderment mounted. “And we didn’t come straight here. We found Gloria Lopez-Craine and her son. We met them both. She refused to help us. And then we came here. For answers. And I’m sure as hell not leaving until I get them.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she might have seen the Jacques grin.
During her scolding, Larry’s face had gone from pinched to stunned to grim.
“You found Gloria?” he asked frowning. “And she won’t get the kid tested?”
Rainey shook her head. “She wouldn’t even talk to us.” Rainey folded her arms across her chest, suddenly chilled at the memory. “She threw us out as soon as she learned who I was.
Larry winced. “Oh, fine,” he said, his shoulders bowing in defeat. Then he seemed to shake himself off, took the three steps that separated him and Rainey, and dipped down to kiss her cheek. “It’s good to see you, Rainbow.”
For all of his faults and misplaced loyalties, Larry had always been like an uncle to her, and Rainey softened a little. “It’s good to see you, too,” she conceded, though an edge of irritation was still clear in her voice.
He sighed again. “I guess I’ll go take my medicine.” He turned and then muttered over his shoulder. “No need to knock down any doors, Hercules. You trying to get us on Access Hollywood?”
Before Jacques could respond, Larry disappeared down the hall again. Rainey reached for Jacques, her hand clasping his wrist.
“Thank you for sticking by me. It means the world to me, really.” she whispered, holding his gaze with hers. What she had to say next wasn’t easy. Most of all, she didn’t want him to think her ungrateful. The corners of his eyes lifted with his smile. Rainey knew he was about to speak, and she couldn’t let him. “But — but when he comes out…” She bit the corner of her lip and worried it. “…I think I need to talk to him by myself.”
Jacques’s left brow drew up with his frown. “Rainey—”
“I have to, Jacques,” she said, feeling the truth of it deeply now. “I think it’s about time.”
He said nothing then, but his eyes held her with keen, unbroken focus.
“What if—”
“Rainey, my God!” Her father’s voice — a sound that made music critics think of Tupelo honey and cayenne pepper, a buttery rasp — commanded every head to t
urn and witness his entrance.
He aimed for her with a wide smile, but unlike the one Jacques’s had given her seconds before, it didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t break his stride until he crushed her into his hug, her nose pressed against his royal blue silk shirt, and the smell of his cologne like a punch of nostalgia. And pain.
“Dad,” she squeaked, his hug knocking her just a little off balance and making her feel about six years old again. There was a time when she’d wanted to cling to him forever so he couldn’t leave again. So he would hold her tighter.
Now Rainey pulled away first, like she had for years. It was easier that way.
“Dad, we need to talk.” She watched his face give away nothing, his eyes so like her own. So like Ray’s. Except in Ray’s — even in the first three minutes of meeting him — Rainey had read his genuine thoughts and feelings.
Looking at her father now, she saw he wore a mask of pleasant surprise, but she could discern that it was paper-thin. What did he really feel? Was he angry she’d come? Was he irritated by the interruption? Was he possibly even afraid of what she had to say?
Rainey had no way of knowing.
He looked handsome, as always. Even edging closer to sixty, Dylan Reeves was handsome. And she could see he’d kept himself in great shape, so no one would be able to guess his age. His complexion was darker than hers — she favored her mother — so he always looked like he’d just returned from a beach holiday. Maybe he went to a tanning salon for all she knew, but if he did, his skin hadn’t gone leathery and dry. His hair, longish and curling at the ends like hers, was streaked with gray, but it still retained much of its original dark brown. Even with years of hard living, months on the road, and late nights for each one, Dylan Reeves could still pass for a man in his late forties.
Her father made a show of letting his eyebrows climb in disbelief. “You came all the way to Memphis to talk?” Then he gave a chuckle for their audience of Jacques, Lacey the receptionist, and Larry, who’d followed behind him. “If I’da known you were coming, I’da rolled out the red carpet, baby doll.”
Rainey guessed if he’d known she was coming, he would have tried to reschedule, but she didn’t say that. Not yet. Not with so many eyes watching them.
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