Country Nights

by Winter Renshaw

  My heart sank as I realized he’d probably read every little note in that box and seen every little photograph; including the one I kept in there of my daughter.

  “So you know about…”

  “The baby. Yes.” His eyes flashed dark. “I don’t know why you felt the need to keep it a secret from me. I was your husband for two years, God damn it. I wouldn’t have judged you.”

  “My sister doesn’t even know, Harrison.” I shook my head, not feeling the need to validate my reasons to a crazy person a second longer. “So if you knew about Beau, why didn’t you try to stop me from going?”

  “Because you needed the interview to get promoted. Because in spite of the risk of losing you, I wouldn’t do that to you.” Harrison slid his hand down his jaw, clenching and releasing it as he cocked his head to the side. It was as if he was coming back down from his heated high. He stood up and paced the living room, finding a spot by the window and gazing outside at our bustling little neighborhood. “God, this is embarrassing. I’m quite humiliated at my behavior actually.”

  My feet stayed frozen to the ground as I struggled to find the right thing to say to the man whose heart I’d just obliterated, albeit unintentionally. “There were a lot of cracks in our marriage.”

  He glanced up at me with melancholy sadness in his stare.

  “What I mean is, don’t spend the rest of your life wondering what you could’ve done differently to make things work.” I pulled in a deep breath, hoping my words would mean something someday. “We were never meant to last. It would’ve ended eventually, one way or another.”

  Harrison slumped back in his chair with the mahogany box of my past still resting in his lap. I imagined him poring over those old love letters and happy photographs as he investigated this side of me he’d never known before.

  He was going to be haunted by his time with me for the rest of his life, the same way my time with Beau had haunted me.

  “Everything’s going to be okay for you,” I told him. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it will.”

  He turned to face the window, staring down at the late April rain that had begun to fall and beat against the glass. “I’m sorry I kissed you that way, Coco. I shouldn’t have done that. You’re a lady, and it was wrong.”

  That was his upbringing speaking. The Bissetts of Manhattan were known to be dignified and respectable members of society, though I’d learned over the years that all families had skeletons – some were just better hidden than others.

  “I’m going to step out for a bit,” I said, “and go meet up with my sister.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Hey!” Addison said, kissing my cheek as she stood to greet me at our favorite restaurant. Her blue eyes studied me as she puckered her lips to the side. “Something’s different about you. What happened in Darlington?”

  I placed my napkin across my lap and took a sip of my still water. “I need you to find me an apartment.”

  Addison’s jaw fell. “Can you repeat that again, please? This time, speak right into the mic.”

  “Oh, stop.” I swatted her away. “I’m ready to move out of the apartment and get a place of my own.”

  “How soon are we talking?”

  “Immediately.”

  Her eyes widened as she leaned in. Her poppy-red lips spread into an entertained grin. “All right. Back up. Start from the beginning.”

  “This isn’t about Beau,” I said, backtracking. “The apartment. It’s not about him.”

  “Really?” She cocked a disbelieving eyebrow.

  “Harrison,” I said, shaking my head, “apparently found out about my history with Beau. He kind of got all weird on me.” I spared her the details out of the kindness of my heart. Harrison was just a man who had a low moment. I’d been there before. “He started talking like he wanted to get back together, and when I told him no, he kind of lost it. It’s just better that I get out of there as soon as possible. Can you make that happen?”

  “Of course,” Addison assured me, reaching her hand across the table and placing it over mine. Her engagement ring glinted in the dim light, throwing fire everywhere. “Wilder just renovated a building in SoHo. Take your pick. We’ll do a month-to-month lease until you find something you love.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So what happened with Beau? You’re killing me here. I’ve been waiting all week for this.”

  “He wants me back,” I said.

  “Of course he does.” Addison took a sip of water. “But do you want him?”

  Asking if I wanted him was the equivalent of asking if I needed oxygen. The answer, however, was a bit more complex. “It’s not that simple. There are logistical issues, my promotion coming up…and besides, how do you know after three or four days with someone if you’re willing to throw everything away and take a chance that maybe this time, he might not break your heart? He smashed it the first time. How do I know he won’t do it again?”

  “You don’t. And you’ll never know. That’s the kicker.” Addison’s temperament had taken a mild and balmy quality to it since meeting Wilder, and that’s how I knew he was right for her. He calmed her nerves and quieted that nagging voice we both had in the backs of our heads that said true happiness was elusive and fleeting. “You have to take a chance if you really want something.” She scrunched her brow. “Is your promotion a sure thing?”

  Glancing at the flickering candle between us, I shrugged a shoulder. After what went down with Harrison, who the hell knew? He’d been my biggest cheerleader my entire career, and I wouldn't blame him if he was sitting in our apartment scheming and planning my demise. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “All right,” she said. “So we’ll cross the bridge when it gets here. And where the heck is our server, because I’m this close to eating my napkin right now.”

  We enjoyed our dinner and caught up on our weeks, but the nagging voice in the back of my mind had been urging me to tell her about Mabry all night.

  “Thanks for dinner,” she said as I paid the check. “And thanks for letting me vent about the wedding. It’s stressing me out, and I’m pretty sure Mom’s going to pull some stunt that day.”

  I smiled and nodded. The words were on the tip of my tongue.

  “What’s wrong?” Addison scrunched her brows.

  “You know my freshman year of college and how I only came home twice?”

  “Uh, yeah,” she said. “I missed you like crazy, but you were acting all weird all the time, and you never wanted me to come see you.”

  “I was pregnant.”

  Addison’s jaw fell. She leaned back in her seat.

  “I had a baby. Beau’s baby. It was a girl.”

  Addison’s jaw fell a notch lower while my entire being suddenly got a bit lighter. I just hoped she wouldn’t resent me for keeping it from her for so long.

  “Coco, why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyes watered, reflecting off the moonlight above. She placed a hand across her chest. “I would’ve been there for you. I wish you would’ve told me.”

  I bit my lip and stared down at the folded linen napkin across my lap. “That was one of the worst years of my entire life, and I may not have been thinking clearly at the time, but I did what I had to do.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Sam and Rebecca are raising her.”

  “Mabry is your and Beau’s daughter?!”

  I nodded.

  “She’s my niece.” Addison stood there, letting the information sink in. “I’ve played with her at barbeques and family reunions, you know, back before I left for college. Huh.” She stared off to the side.

  “I’m sorry I never told you. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, and I didn’t want anyone else constantly reminding me that I needed to do this or say that or be a certain way.”

  Addison wrapped her arms around my shoulders and pulled me tight. “Your apologies are no good here. You did what you had to do.”

  The f
ollowing Monday began with a personal tour of my new, handpicked-by-Addison SoHo apartment given by the one and only Wilder Van Cleef.

  “You seem a little more energetic than usual,” he said, eyeing me with a curious stare. “Must be pretty excited to move?”

  “Sure,” I said, not about to tell him the real reason for my nervous excitement. Beau was flying in that day for our sit-down interview. I hadn’t seen or talked to him since I left the previous Wednesday. If I knew Beau at all, I knew he was just giving me space. He wasn’t a smothering, suffocating type, and if he had any brains about him, he knew we were walking a delicate tightrope.

  “Addison said you were wanting a month-to-month,” he said.

  “Is that okay?”

  “Absolutely. You’re family, Coco,” he said.

  “Less than two weeks and you’ll be stuck with me as a sister forever,” I said, nudging his arm.

  “I endured you as a sister for a whole month last year,” he teased. “Anyway, you’re not half as bad as you think you are.”

  He wasn’t a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve, but he didn’t need to. I saw it in the way he looked at my sister and the way he held her and all the ways he encouraged her and believed in her. Wilder was loyal and gracious, determined and compassionate, and Addison was lucky as hell.

  “All right, mister,” I said, mentally photographing the space that would soon become my new home for a yet-to-be determined amount of time. It had been a long time since my immediate future was nothing but a glaring question mark. Glancing at my watch, I calculated just four more hours to go before seeing Beau again. “Movers are delivering my things this afternoon, so I need to get the key over there. Anyway, I better get going. Busy day ahead of me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Right this way, Mr. Mason.” A perky, fresh-out-of-college girl with a clipboard and headset led me down a long hallway toward a dressing room with my name on the door. “Hair and makeup are on their way and someone will be in shortly to mic you.”

  I nodded a thank you as I took a seat across from the lighted vanity as a team of MBC badge wearing men and women flooded my space.

  “Beau,” a man’s voice said from the doorway. Glancing into the mirror, I saw the reflection of a man with dark salt and pepper hair and steel blue eyes. Dressed in a navy suit with a red tie, he offered a thin smile, his jaw clenched. “I’m Harrison Bissett. I’m producing this interview.”

  He walked toward me, extending his hand, and when I met his handshake, he squeezed the hell out of my mitt.

  “Nice to finally meet you,” I lied.

  “Likewise,” he probably lied.

  “Are we ready?” Dakota appeared just behind Harrison, her eyes dancing between our faces with apprehension.

  A staffer came in and hooked a mic pack under my shirt and clipped a tiny mic on my collar before we all shuffled like a herd of stampeding cattle down the long corridor toward a studio. The set resembled a living room with a spotlight shining down on two overstuffed chairs and a table where two waters rested in coffee mugs.

  Dakota took a seat, staring down at the notes in her lap while a young woman powdered her nose and scurried off. If she was nervous about her big interview, she sure did a good job of hiding it.

  “Are we rolling?” a voice called out from behind two cameras. Everyone was dressed in black. The director. The cameramen. The rest of the crew. They all faded into the dark background, and all I could see was her.

  God, had she ever been more beautiful? Completely in her element and on point, she crossed her shapely legs and lifted her eyes to meet mine.

  “Beau Mason,” she said in her best Midwestern accent, in a voice that came from her belly. “Thirty years old. Retiring from a successful country music career. What led you to this decision?”

  “It was time,” I said, sitting back in my chair. “Time to settle down. Time to start living. Life on the road is rough.”

  “Let’s talk about life on the road.”

  I raked my hand across my jaw, trying to conjure up a way of explaining how shitty and dark those years were without offending my fans. After a brief phone call that morning with my publicist, he’d given me a list of canned responses, telling me to tell my fans only what they wanted to hear. “Life on the road was fun, but it was also a little lonely. After the roar of the crowd dies down and everyone goes home for the night, it was just me, my guitar, and a tiny little bedroom in the back of a tour bus. Gives a man a lot of time to think.”

  Dakota glanced down at her notes and shifted in her seat. “You’ve sold over one hundred million albums in the last decade. That’s got to feel surreal for you.”

  “It does,” I said. “Most days I don’t feel like I deserve the kind of success that’s followed me all over the world, but there’s no denying it. It’s a part of me now.”

  She rattled off a few more statistics and named some specific platinum songs I’d had before re-crossing her legs and leaning into me. “What does a man who’s had more success than he’s ever dreamed of do when he’s reached the top? What’s next for you?”

  “I’d like to think I’m on a slow decline back to normal. I plan on writing songs and fading into the background. My heart’s my compass, and my compass is pointing back home to Darlington, Kentucky.” I placed my hand over my chest. “The quiet life awaits me.”

  “Your final performance is in a couple weeks. Madison Square Garden,” she said with an amused journalistic lilt. “Tickets for that show sold out in seven minutes.”

  “Yeah, I’m definitely feeling the pressure there. But it’s going to be a good show. I promise my fans that. They won’t forget it. And the show will be broadcast live on Pay Per View for those who can’t attend.”

  “You’re known for being very tight-lipped when it comes to your personal life,” she said. “What are some things you can share with the viewers at home that they might not know about you?”

  “I’m just a simple man,” I said with a half-smirk. “There’s not much to me besides dust and bones and a determined kind of personality. Once I get my mind set on something, there’s really no changing it.”

  “Like your retirement,” she said with a modest laugh. Something about being interviewed by her was calming, though I suspected part of it was her delivery. Her voice was sweet enough to dissolve tension and her eyes held a trusting sparkle. Interviews had been the bane of my existence for the bulk of my career, but she made this one feel easy.

  “Exactly. No talking me out of that,” I laughed, rubbing my hand across my knee.

  “Cut,” a voice yelled. “Let’s take five.”

  Harrison appeared out of the darkness, approaching Dakota and leaning into her ear. Her face fell and then tightened as her eyes shot in my direction.

  “I’m not doing that,” she said. “No.”

  Harrison slipped a hand into his pocket, like he was trying to pretend her objection didn’t rattle him. “As your producer, I’m telling you to ask these questions. It’s your job, Coco.”

  “No.” She leaned away from him, our gazes still locked. “Not like this. It’s my interview, and I will not be taking it in that direction.”

  Harrison disappeared into the background as someone else counted us in and Dakota turned herself back on like the flip of a switch. She continued asking me general questions, and I continued giving general answers, trying my best to guess what the masses wanted to hear.

  “And that’s a wrap,” a man said, stepping out from behind the cameramen and pulling the headset off his head. “Good job, everyone.”

  Dakota pulled the mic pack off and sat her notes aside.

  We stood to leave, and I grabbed the hook of her elbow, pulling her into me and leaning into her ear. “Meet me in my dressing room in twenty minutes.”

  I changed into jeans and a t-shirt and my favorite pair of boots and washed my face, hunching over the sink and waiting for that knock that would bring me my Dakota. It wasn’t but ten minute
s until she just walked right in, shutting the door behind her.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “I missed you, Dakota,” I said, walking toward her one slow step at a time.

  “You didn’t call.”

  “Neither did you.”

  “I didn’t know what to say.”

  “I wanted to give you a little space, that's all.” I reached for her hip, placing my hand in the scooped out indentation just below her waist and pulling her into me. “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “Absence can make the heart do all kinds of things.”

  “Want to get out of here?”

  She bit her lip, nodding slowly and bending to my will. We bolted out of the studio, dashing down Midtown and heading south with no particular destination in mind. Crowded sidewalks filled with five o’clockers forced us to dash and dart, dip and weave, and finally I grabbed her hand and pulled her closer to me, making us like a rock holding strong against the stream. The rest of the world would have to go around us.

  Taxi horns flooded our ears and diesel fumes filled our lungs as city smells wafted up from sewer grates. What beauty Dakota ever saw in that kind of thing was beyond me. I gazed up at a sea of tall buildings and skyscrapers, blocking the view of the perfectly sunny sky above and making it feel just a shade darker than it should’ve been at that time of day.

  “How long are you in town?” she asked.

  “I leave tomorrow morning.”

  A deafening silence contrasted against the city symphony around us. “I’ll be back next weekend for the show. You going to come?”

  We found an empty bench, and Dakota pulled me to it, wrapping my arm around her when we sat down. “I don’t know. Addison’s wedding is that weekend.”