Nashville Naughty

by Nashville Naughty [Ravenous] (epub)

  Dillon stood and looked at me with sad eyes that said more than words ever could.

  “I hope we can be…friends. Someday. I miss that.” He smiled.

  I wanted to throw up. I wanted to tell him to fuck off. I wanted to scream and stomp my feet and curse so long and so loud that it wasn’t fucking fair and the neighbors called the cops and I had to spend another night in the slammer with Betty the transvestite hooker and Syd had to get out of bed and come bail me out, then drink enough shots of tequila that I passed out and forgot any of this was anything more than a really fucked-up dream and I could go back to banging whatever guy took my notice and keep my heart locked up in a little safe that not even Houdini could crack.

  But I didn’t.

  I walked Dillon to the door, smiled, and lied, saying I hoped we could still be friends, too.

  Then I went to my room, lay on the my bed and stared at the Jailhouse Rock poster above my dresser until my vision blurred and pink morning light filtered through the blinds bringing the sounds of a city waking up into my empty apartment.

  I couldn’t go on like this. I knew that. I had to do something.

  I got out of bed, made a couple of phone calls, grabbed a shower, packed my duffel bag, and headed for the bus terminal.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Collin, my four-thirty guitar lesson, was late. I sat in the lesson room in the back of Dutton Music and idly plucked out Blue Moon on my guitar.

  I glanced at the clock. Rehearsal with my band was starting in a half hour. Then we had gig at a bar where the same dozen people would show up to hear us. I’d meet Hailey somewhere afterwards or go by her apartment, and listen to her gush about the baby and the nursery and all the stuff she and her mother were going to buy for it. I’d give my opinion as to whether she should go with yellow or green, bunnies or Noah’s Ark. I’d nod and smile and really try to concentrate on the good things, like being satisfied that I was doing the right thing about the baby. Then I’d go back to Ted’s basement and sleep on the couch with the cat piss, and dream of Becca all night.

  If I was doing the right thing, why did it feel so wrong?

  Going to Becca’s apartment had been a mistake. I’d wanted to see her and had been selfish. Even though she’d never in a million years admit that she was hurting, too, I knew her. I could see it. I wished there was something I could do to take it all away. I fully admitted to myself that I was in love with her. Probably had been for a while, ever since I saw her standing on the balcony outside that fairy princess ballroom. Then she’d turned and before she’d tried to hide it, I saw the look of pleasure and affection on her face when she looked at me, too.

  I smiled, though pain lanced through my chest at the memory. Yeah, that was the moment I fell totally head over heels for Becca.

  Ten minutes before the end of his scheduled lesson, Collin rushed into the room, lugging his guitar case behind him. His face was flushed and he nearly tripped over the case in his rush.

  “Hey there,” I said, leaning my guitar against an amp. “Slow down, you’re going to hurt the equipment.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Dillon. But I got something to show you!”

  I couldn’t stifle a smile. Collin was not one of my best students, but he was the most enthusiastic. He’d been taking lessons for several months now on a beat-up old acoustic his mother has found in a pawn shop. It was his greatest treasure.

  “What is it, buddy?”

  Collin laid his guitar case on the floor with reverence and flipped the latches. He settled the huge guitar around his scrawny shoulders, just like I showed him, and played the song we’d been working on for weeks.

  The look on his face when he was done made my forgot all my own Becca-Hailey-baby-Road Kill troubles. It was pure, unadulterated joy. For just a second, I remembered what that was like. Kids could have such a pure passion for something that nothing else mattered. Not skill, not the time it took, not the risk of failure. Nobody else’s expectations mattered. I wished I could be that kid again. I patted him on the shoulder, my throat tight.

  “That’s great, Collin. You’ve been practicing.”

  He held up his Band-Aided fingers happily. “Three hours a day.”

  I returned to my stool and slipped the guitar strap over my head. “Now let’s try a harder one.”

  We worked for more than an hour and I looked up to see Collin’s mom standing in the doorway, watching us with a proud, thoughtful smile on her face.

  “Time to go, Collin,” she said. “I’m sure Mr. Dillon has other students.”

  “Aw, Mom,” Collin groaned, but got up and put away his guitar anyway.

  “What do I owe you for the extra time?” Collin’s mom asked, getting out her wallet.

  “Nothing,” I said, smiling. “It was my pleasure.”

  She put away her wallet. “It’s good to see you smile again. You seem like you’ve been kind of down lately.”

  I realized in a flash that I was happier than I’d been since the night I’d found out about the baby.

  “Yeah.”

  She shook her head. “My hours got cut back at work last month,” she said. “Money’s been tight. I know I should put the money towards bills or Collin’s college fund instead of guitar lessons, but he looks forward to this hour all week. His little heart would be broken if he couldn’t come anymore.” She watched her son pack up his instrument with care. Love and pride shone on her face. “It’s my favorite hour of the week, too.”

  “Mine, too,” I said smiling down at my student.

  After Collin and his mother left, I don’t know how long I sat there, just playing. I played for myself. Not because my band mates expected it, not because I’d made a promise to myself to make a career in music and not because it was the right thing to do.

  I thought of my dad and how he’d always instilled a sense of old-fashioned honor in us. I thought of my brother, who had married his pregnant girlfriend at nineteen and seemed happy enough with his life. I thought of Hailey, holding our child, coming home with me at holidays, of the look of pride on my father’s face as he held his grandbaby. I thought of Hailey sitting with my mom and Heather, chatting about baby things. I tried to envision my life with her. But every time I did, Becca’s face popped into my head. Becca, with her smart mouth, her tough exterior. Her fear. The vulnerability she tried so hard to hide from me. Becca screaming in ecstasy at the lake. Becca with another guy in a dim, smoky bar somewhere, some other guy’s hands on her. And what could I do about it? Nothing, because she wasn’t mine. She never would be again.

  My gut clenched. My fingers slipped off the guitar strings. Everything came into crystal-clear focus.

  I’d screwed up. Royally. Becca had opened up to me and I’d taken her trust and her love and shredded it, just like every other guy she’d ever known.

  And what I was doing to Hailey and the baby wasn’t much better. They deserved better, too. Hailey deserved to find happiness and family with a man who loved her as much as I loved Becca.

  I didn’t know if I had a chance at getting Becca back. If I was her, I’d tell me to go to hell. But I couldn’t think about that. Even if Becca never spoke to me again, my path was the same. I wasn’t conflicted about what the right path was.

  I flipped open the phone and dialed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As far as mansions go, Graceland is a tiny shack compared to the monstrosities perched all along the Pacific coast. It’s nestled in what once might have been an upscale part of Memphis, but now it’s the kind of place where you watch your purse and make sure you’re out of there before dark.

  The mansion itself is alike a time capsule of the disco age. Fur was in. Shag on the floor, the ceiling, and even the lampshades. But even for all the kitsch, you feel a sense of reverence when you tour the mansion. The man lived and died in the house, sort of a prisoner to his own fame. It’s an odd combination of comedy and tragedy, entertainment, and grief, just like I imagine the man who lived there was.

/>   Sometimes if you look closely at candid photos of Elvis, you see a hint of the sadness there. The love and acceptance he never really felt, the lack of self-confidence that I imagine him spending most of his life hiding. He hid behind those big gold glasses for a reason and it wasn’t just the drugs.

  But it’s not all doom and gloom. The half-million people who make the pilgrimage there every year are worth the trip alone. And the shops and cafes and Elvis junk is simply breathtaking. You can get any household object imaginable with Elvis’s face on it.

  “What do you think of these, Rebecca?”

  I glanced at my sister, Sherry, across the cramped gift shop just off of Elvis Presley Boulevard. She held up an enormous rhinestone belt and wore the biggest smile I’d seen on her in years. Just for an instant, all the lines and worry marks faded to reveal a glimpse of the girl she’d been back when we both wore pigtails and Saturday morning cartoons were the shit.

  “Perfect. You can wear it to the next PTO meeting.”

  She actually giggled.

  “Oh, does that come in gold?” my mom asked, perfectly serious. “That would go perfect with my new go-go boots.”

  Then she looked at me and winked. “Gotcha.”

  Mom looked years younger, too. The bruises had faded from her run-in with her ex-boyfriend and the stitches had been removed. Sherry had helped her move in with them and so far, it was going great. I was pretty sure Mom wasn’t done with assholes for good and equally sure I hadn’t seen the last of hospital waiting rooms and that sucked. But right now, things were good.

  Forty bucks in gas, another ten dollars to park, fifty dollars a night for a hotel, thirty bucks apiece to tour the mansion and grounds Elvis called home, and at least another hundred dollars in souvenirs had drained what was left of my savings account. It had been worth every cent just to bring a smile to my mom’s face. What good was money in the bank, anyway? It didn’t buy anything but stuff. You can’t buy memories. Or smiles. Or getting to know my niece and nephew. Or four hours in a rental car singing the entire Viva Las Vegas soundtrack with family that no matter how fucked up, was still family.

  It also took my mind off Dillon. He was playing his big gig at Tootsie’s that night and I couldn’t help but be nervous for him. I’d wanted to be there, but the thought of walking in and seeing Hailey there at the foot of the stage was just too much.

  Delilah peeked out from beneath a rack of pink “I ♥ Elvis” T-shirts.

  “Can’t find me, Aunt Becca,” she singsonged.

  I slid on a pair of gold Elvis-style sunglasses and crawled right under the rack with her. “Oh yeah?”

  “Delilah, you’d better not be in the racks again,” my sister said from the display of decorative plates.

  “Shh,” I said “Don’t tell your mom we’re under here.” I tickled my niece until her giggle gave us away for sure.

  It had been a long road trip from Paducah down to Memphis, but it was worth it. I cherished getting to know my niece and nephew and I totally got it now, why Dillon was so fond of his nieces. It was something I should have done a long time ago.

  Brown loafers stopped right in front of the rack. “Uh-oh. Busted,” I said, expecting a surly salesperson asking in a condescending voice if he could help us, when what he really meant was get the hell out of my T-shirts, you crazy lady. Although given the ardor of Elvis groupies, I was sure he’d seen stranger.

  “Let’s go,” I whispered to Delilah, motioning her to exit at the opposite side from the angry loafers. “Quick.”

  I crawled out and got to my feet like nothing was out of the ordinary. I smoothed my hair that was full of static electricity and turned to face the surly salesperson.

  Only it wasn’t a salesperson. And he wasn’t surly.

  “What—?” was all I could get out, my breath sucked away by shock and a sudden lurch in my stomach.

  “Hello, Becca.”

  My mom and sister almost got whiplash turning to see who I was talking to.

  Dillon looked rumpled, like he’d slept in his car. His shirt was wrinkled and mis-buttoned, his hair sticking up on one side. His smile was tentative and tired, his bright eyes focused solely on me as if I were an oasis in the middle of the Sahara. He’d never looked hotter.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I followed you,” Dillon said, over the rack of T-shirts.

  I pulled off the sunglasses and set them on top of my head, still not sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

  “Why?” I managed to get out. I crossed my arms. Didn’t he know it killed me to see him?

  “Missed you?” Dillon shook his head. “No, that’s not exactly right.” He circled the rack to stand right in front of me. “Ask me again.”

  “Dillon, I can’t play these games anymore,” I said. “Go back to Hailey. Leave me alone.”

  “Ask me again,” he said again, ignoring my words.

  I wasn’t sure Dillon wasn’t a little off, but just looking at him hurt. If I had to play the game to get rid of him, I would. What I would tell my Mom and Sherry about the whole thing, I had no idea.

  “Fine. What are you doing here?” I glared at him as hard as I could manage.

  He looked deep into my eyes, just like we were in the final scene of a sappy romantic comedy. “I love you. Head over heels. I’m totally useless, a shell of a man without you. You’re the wind beneath my wings, Becca. You complete me.” He grinned. “Is that clear enough?”

  I glanced over at my Mom and Sherry, who were staring, looking from Dillon to me and back again. “I think you missed a few tacky clichés,” I said, feeling my face burn. “And you’re saying them to the wrong woman.”

  I turned to head out of the store, but Dillon caught my elbow.

  “I’ll be happy to think up some more, if you’ll let me.”

  My niece giggled. “Is he your boyfriend, Aunt Becca?”

  Dillon looked at her and winked.

  I shook my head. “You’re with Hailey. I get that. Respect it in some weird, masochistic way, even.”

  “I want you, Becca. I was using some pretentious sense of chivalry to make a decision, because I knew what was right all along and was too afraid to fight the easy path and what I felt was expected of me.” He grinned a little. “Not that anything with you is ever easy.”

  I simply stared at Dillon, my eyes roaming over his features. Fear fluttered in my belly because I liked what he was saying more than cookie dough ice cream and Elvis and it scared the hell of me.

  “We’ll just wait for you outside, Becca,” my mom said, grabbing hold of the kids’ hands. She nodded at Dillon. “Any man who can make my Rebecca blush, well, good luck.” She led the kids out of the store, my sister following behind, grinning.

  “But what about Hailey and the baby?”

  “How can I be with her when I’m in love with another woman?”

  I pulled my hands out of his grasp. “For now.” I turned away and pretended to be engrossed in checking the price tags on shirts on a clearance rack. “What happens when the baby is born? What if you’re just having second thoughts about the whole fatherhood thing and you change your mind?”

  “I won’t.”

  I turned to him and cocked an eyebrow, then continued on, sifting through T-shirts. He followed.

  “Hailey knows this?”

  “Yes. She was relieved, actually. She was scared and didn’t know where to go when she found out she was pregnant. She’s left Nashville and headed home to her folks’ place in Knoxville.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t want to give in. I didn’t want to be that girl who welcomed back with open arms the man who’d hurt her as soon as he chanced to come around again, spouting pretty words and making false promises. But then I realized this was Dillon. He didn’t make false promises. Mistakes, yes. Lies, no.

  “You’re the one I want, Becca. I know I hurt you. You should tell me go to hell right now.”

  “Yes.” I glared at him. “I should.” I swallowed. “You di
d hurt me. You changed me. It sucks.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, frowning. “I understand and I don’t blame you a bit. I fucked up and I just couldn’t leave it this way between us without at least trying.”

  He turned to go, looking like the weight of the world was on his sexy shoulders.

  “Did you just say the f-word?”

  He paused and turned back to me. “I think I did. Your influence, no doubt.”

  I liked the idea of that. But I didn’t know how I could trust him again. I knew if I let him in this time and he left, I would never be the same.

  “I see,” I said walking over to him. “You’ve influenced me, too. In ways I didn’t realize. You wormed your way into my life and my…heart.” I rolled my eyes. “See what I mean? I’m turning into a total sap because of you.”

  A look of pure joy lit up his features as he realized what I was saying.

  “There’s one thing, though,” he said, catching my arm. He had a serious, determined look returning to his face.

  “If you give me another chance, Hailey and the baby will never be out of the picture.” He took both my hands in his. “I love you to pieces, Becca, but I want to be a father to my child and not just a sperm donor. Just because I’m not with her mama, I don’t want the baby to ever think he or she was a mistake or that I don’t love him. Or her.” He stood straighter, his face a mask of seriousness. “If you take me, you take my child, too.”

  Something in my world shifted at that moment as I looked up at the man who’d just laid it all on the line. An honorable man. Sincere. Wicked hot. A man who cared about me enough to be honest with me.

  “’Kay,” I said, my voice no more than a whisper.

  He pulled me into his arms and kissed me until I was gasping for air, then he kissed me some more.

  I pulled away, laughing. “So you really followed me all the way to Memphis?”

  “Yeah. When you didn’t answer your phone or your door, I called Sydney. She told me you were spending time with your family down here.”

  “I needed them,” I said. “More than I thought. Yet another thing you’ve messed up. I was perfectly happy trying to forget everything about my family and my past, but when you left, I realized I really did need them. They’re no picture postcard. They’re not like your family. We’re all pretty fucked up, actually. But we can be fucked up together.”