Her Younger Man (A Country Music Romance): a Renny and Rachel Romance

by MacLaren, Nancy

  “Do you enjoy playing with your brothers?”

  “Don’t ever have twins. Rachel, is it?” I nodded. “They are more than double the pain, they are pain squared. The identical bad boys of country.”

  “I did not know that,” I said, giving Renny a knowing smirk.

  “Hell, everyone knows that. Where you been?”

  Renny perked up at that. “Hey don’t paint us with your tar brush, brother. Besides, she’s not a fan Gar. Never heard us until tonight.”

  “I’m not up on all the newest…” I stuttered, then I pointed at the girls. “I don’t think I’m your demographic.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Garrett said, “we got fans of all ages. Last week I got a marriage proposal from a 62 year old widow.”

  “No shit,” Renny answered.

  “What did you say?” I asked.

  “Told her what I tell ‘em all, I’m married to my music.” He gathered two of the girls to him. “And variety. The spice of life. ” He then went into some sort of weird, ghetto voice, “I’m the ladies man.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t encourage him. It’s an old bit from Saturday Night Live. He thinks he’s some kinda comedian.”

  He was funny and I couldn’t help laughing as he continued the bit. The ‘ladies’ man’ was definitely a hit with all of the ladies as well. I could see how Garrett effortlessly reeled them in. Why would he ever settle down?

  Two beers were set down in front of Renny. He slid one to me.

  “I don’t drink beer.”

  “What? Why didn’t you speak up?”

  “You didn’t ask me.”

  “Well Holy Moly, how can you live in Portland?”

  “I manage. There’s more than just micro-breweries to the place. I know that’s hard to believe.”

  “That’s my favorite part of the town. Hell, now I feel like an idiot. What can I get you? Wine?”

  “Diet soda is fine.”

  “Diet soda? It’s Saturday night, baby girl. Have a drink. I’m sure you can still scribble on that little pad after one lousy drink.”

  “Fine. Kahlua and cream.”

  “Coming up –one alcoholic milkshake.” He slid out and went to the bar to put in my order. Reade slid right into his place.

  Seeing Reade up close I could see the twin thing but they had worked really hard to look as different as possible. Where Renny’s hair was curly and long, Reade’s was short and spiky. He was also wearing eyeliner, which I have to admit, looked pretty great on him. It was a little intimidating to be sitting next to a man wearing more make-up than me. But then, he was prettier too. They all were.

  “So you the lady reporter?”

  “That’s me.”

  He held out his hand and gave me a firm handshake. Reade seemed a little tightly coiled compared to the other brothers. I knew from Google that he was the only married brother and had recently become a father. Maybe that explained the tension. Temptation was all around him and it was … well, pretty tempting, even I could see that.

  “Don’t let this guy start his comedy routines or you’ll get nothing.”

  Garrett laughed and turned back to his fans and his burger.

  “I hear congratulations are in order. You just had a baby?”

  He perked up noticeably and reached for his phone, flipping through his pictures until he found the latest one. He showed it to me just like any other new father, though his pride was laced with longing.

  “Well, my wife did. Ain’t she a beauty?”

  “She sure is.” She was a baby, squishy and bumpy. “What’s her name?”

  “Claudine. My wife’s father’s name is Claude and we wanted to honor him.”

  “Claudine is a very pretty name. I’m sure he is a proud Grandpa.”

  “Yeah, I guess. He gets to see her every day, not like her papa.”

  “That must be hard on all of you.”

  “You got children, Rachel?”

  “Uh, no.” I wasn’t going to let him take over this interview like his brother had last week. I needn’t have worried, he wasn’t interested in my answer in any way. It seemed like he needed to talk. I’m a good listener so I sat back and let him roll on.

  “Things change. Not just like the love stuff but other things change too. Your relationships. My wife used to travel with us and we had a blast. Everyone loved her and she fit right in, she’s not one of them fussy gals. But now …”

  “A new baby isn’t quite the thing for an all boys touring bus, huh?”

  “Yeah, not quite. They all said it wouldn’t bother them, but it would have and they were relieved when Claire, my wife, turned down the offer. She wants a proper home upbringing for our girl. Can’t say I blame her, that’s what we had after all. Living on the road is no way to raise a family.”

  “That puts you in a tough spot.”

  “Claire knew what she was getting into marrying a musician and it was easy when she was with me all the time. It’s just now …” he glanced back at Garrett and over at Renny surrounded by women, “well, the temptation is mighty tempting. And I miss them, like, all the time.”

  “I know that long-distance marriages are tough on anyone, not just celebrities. My own Dad traveled all the time too.”

  “But you loved him, right?”

  “Oh sure, but I can’t say I really knew him. How long is the rest of the tour? You’re done soon, right?

  “Nope. We got most of Canada to hit on the way home. It’ll be two months before I see Claudine –and Claire –again. I don’t even have a day off to fly back. She’ll be all growed up by then.”

  “No, she won’t Reade. She’s a baby. She’s gonna sleep most of these two months and wake up just in time to see you. You’ll be there for first steps, first words.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “I like you Rachel Drake. Renny done himself proud for once.”

  “Oh, I’m not .. Renny and I, we’re not …”

  “Relax, little lady, I was just yanking your chain, though Renny did talk about you like you hung the moon. I can see you’re not… well… I’d love to see him with someone, though. Get him over that divorce.”

  “Renny’s divorced?”

  “Man, that boy didn’t tell you nothing. Yeah, it’s been a couple of years but he’s still moping all over the place. It didn’t help things that I got married about the same time and now with the kid. Things are kinda rough between me and the twin.”

  “I knew some identical twins years ago. They could feel when the other one was getting sick, even if they were miles apart. Maybe he feels your happiness.”

  “We used to be more connected, when we were kids but, yeah, I sorta feel his pain, so maybe he gets some happy from me, except I’m as miserable as he is most of the time. Not what you expected interviewing the famous and fun-loving Taylor Brothers, eh?”

  “Will you two stop being so god-damned serious, I’m fun-loving,” Garrett poked in. “let’s play some pool. C’mon, I’ll even let you break.”

  Reade and Garrett said good-bye and went off to wow the fans with their awesome pool skills. I sat alone in the booth, sipping the Kahlua and cream the bartender sat before me. I looked around, wondering what was next, when I saw a pretty young woman slip Renny a napkin and he stuffed it in his jeans, never looking away from her. No matter what Reade said he didn’t seem so broken-hearted at this exact moment. And he sure wasn’t hanging on my every word.

  I started to feel conspicuous and called for a cab. I slipped out without saying good-bye. I had plenty for the article, there was no reason to stay.

  No one noticed.

  Why should they?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  What the hell was that banging noise? It couldn’t be in my head, I only had one lousy, watered down Kahlua last night. I sat up in bed. The pounding was coming from the front of the house. Some idiot was knocking on my front door. I checked the time. 9A.M. on a Sunday? Oh, great, now they were
leaning on the bell. I grabbed my robe and stormed into the hallway prepared to do battle with whatever unfortunate missionary or salesperson had the gall to wake me up on my only day off.

  I threw open the door to a shiny, smiling, perky as shit Renny Taylor.

  “I thought I was going to have to break in.” He was leaning against the door-frame, looking, well, pretty damn good. I, on the other hand, was wrapped in an old, stained, puce chenille bathroom I’d inherited from my mother. I was sporting an excellent bed-head as well as ‘morning after’ breath. To say I was not at my best would be an understatement. I was also, oh so slightly, pissed off.

  “What are you doing here?” I looked around for the tour bus. “And how did you get here?”

  “I have my ways,” he said stepping across the doorway. That’s when I noticed he was carrying a battered, large toolbox.

  “So lead the way.”

  “To my leader?”

  “Funny. Jed told you I was going to fix your plumbing, right?”

  “I didn’t believe him.”

  “Believe it. This way?” He let himself further into the house and towards my bathroom.

  “Wait! Let me … clean it a little ..”

  “No need, I’ve seen ladies under bits before.” Yes, they are flung at you every night.

  He went straight to the shower and started tearing the knobs and whatever off it. The toolbox wasn’t just for show, these were well-used tools and he knew exactly what he was looking for. This was a first for me and I felt woefully unprepared. I couldn’t just ask him to leave. I needed the plumbing fixed and if he could do it who was I to look a gift horse, etc. etc.

  I stood watching for a few minutes and then caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror; blurry eyes, robe half open and gaping just a bit too much. Wow, this looked like the start of every porno film I’d ever seen; rugged plumber, half-clothed, sleepy-eyed housewife. Um, no. I retreated to my bedroom and hastily threw on the clothes from last night which were conveniently right on the floor where I’d left them.

  I went into the kitchen to start coffee, turned on the tap to smoosh down my hair when I remembered I had no water. I went back into the bathroom where Renny had completely destroyed my shower. God, I hoped he knew what he was doing.

  “I’m gonna run down and get some coffee. You want some?”

  “Sure. Black.”

  “Right. Bagel?”

  He didn’t answer so I left quickly. I didn’t want him to get a good look at me before I had a chance to use the Starbucks bathroom. Luckily I always had a toothbrush with me in my purse so that was taken care of.

  I barricaded myself in the Starbuck’s bathroom, wet down my enormous bed-fro and styled it into something half-way presentable. Why did I have to have such ridiculous hair? Even my hairdresser had given up trying to make it look stylish. “It is what it is, Rachel,” she’d told me, “learn to love or wear a wig.”

  I neither loved it nor wore a wig but I had convinced myself I didn’t care anymore. Heck, I was way past caring if I was attractive or not, right? I am a hard-hitting journalist. Who can worry about their hair in the desert when it’s 120 degrees?

  Then again, I never thought a sexy musician would be fixing my plumbing on a rainy Sunday morning. Goes to show, the only thing you can expect is the unexpected.

  I grabbed coffees, bagels and a chocolate cookie to calm my nerves. By the time I returned Renny was sitting at my kitchen table with pipes strewn all over the floor around him. Dirty, disgusting pipes. I handed him his coffee and food and pointed at the mess.

  “Done?”

  “No way. Holy Moly, your plumbing is a mess.”

  “Yeah, it’s an old house.”

  “It’s a disaster.”

  “Hey, this is my dream home, can’t you see it?”

  “No, no I can’t.”

  “It just needs some TLC. I meant to fix it up when I sold my book but…”

  “You writing a book?”

  “I was writing a book. I am no longer writing a book.”

  “Why not? What’s it about?”

  “Afghanistan, Iraq. My time there.”

  “You won a Pulitzer, right?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “You don’t strike me as a quitter.” That made me bristle. I am many things but I am not a quitter. For some reason I needed him to understand that, and why I had stopped writing the book.

  “I found it very hard to write about wars that are still going on, when every day the region plunges further back into the Dark Ages. Also, well, some of it was harder to write about then I thought it would be.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “I spent 10 months in Iraq and over two years in Afghanistan.”

  “Shit. We were there two days and that was too long.”

  “You’ve been to Afghanistan?”

  “Yup, and Iraq, Kosovo and Germany. We went with the USO last year, after our record hit. That’s one sad place. What the hell did you do for two years?”

  “I fell in love.”

  “With some Afghani dude?”

  “No, not quite. With the kids. I was 100% against us going in there but then I met the children.”

  “And now?”

  “We may have gone in for oil but we need to stay for them.”

  “Was the book about the kids? That would be an interesting perspective.”

  “It’s about a young girl I got to know who was sold to an opium farmer to pay her uncle’s debts. I stayed for so long because I was trying to find her. I never did. I thought I could write about it but I can’t. Not yet, anyway. I have friends over there still trying to track her down. I don’t hold out much hope anymore.”

  To my surprise tears had formed and escaped my eyes. I hadn’t cried about Maryam in a long time but then I had tried very hard not to think about her. And just like that, this guy busts in my house, busts up my shower and busts open my emotions. I hadn’t even talked to my best friend about Maryam, why this guy?

  He placed his long, agile fingers over mine and said the very best thing he could have; nothing.

  We sat still for a few moments while I got myself together. When I looked up he was staring at me with a mixture of searching intensity and infinite kindness. I pulled my hand away. Something about the way he was rubbing my hand with his delicately strong fingers made me very uncomfortable. The way he was staring at me made me feel warm in several places. This wasn’t good.

  “So now I interview celebrities and try to live my life in a house with bad plumbing,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Listen, I have some money now, more than I need really, and if you need some help trying to find this young girl I’d be more than happy…”

  Great. Now I was actually full-out crying. C’mon Drake, get a grip, girl.

  “You let me know, okay but for now, you need a bunch of new pipes. We need to head out to the hardware store, one with a first-class plumbing section.”

  “It’s ok. You’ve been great, really.” I needed to get him out of here before I made a total fool of myself. The song he had, maybe, written for me was still looping through my brain. No, Renny Taylor, I think it is fair to say I have never met a man like you, not just like you.

  “I’ll call my plumber tomorrow. I can live without water for one day.” He was not going to go away easily.

  “Is this the same knucklehead who’s been fixing your pipes all along? ‘Cause he’s an idiot.”

  “Hey, he’s cheap and he comes when I call.”

  “’Cause he has no other clients stupid enough to call him. No offense.”

  “Um.. yeah, offense. You saying I’m a stupid woman who knows nothing about fixing my own house?”

  “No, I’m saying you are a smart woman who is totally clueless about taking care of her own house. You’re just lucky I’m here. I work really cheap and I know what I’m doing.”

  “You? Know more than my licensed plumber? And I am no
t clueless about my house.”

  He picked up one of the pipes from the table. “Oh yeah, what’s this?”

  “It’s a drainy, curved thing for a shower.”

  “It’s your shower valve. Just what I thought, clueless. You need me around here.”

  “I was thinking that just today, what I need is a musician who also knows what a shower valve is. How lucky am I to have met you.”

  “You can be as sarcastic as you want but you know it’s true. A man who knows plumbing is worth, well, a lot. What do you think I did before the cash started rolling in?”

  “You were a plumber? That’s hard to believe.”

  “Believe it and grab your checkbook, we are going shopping.”

  “How much do you think this will cost?” I had all of 50 bucks to my name.

  “The pipes will be a few bucks, it’s my fee you have to worry about.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a great Groucho Marx imitation. Why did I have to laugh? Damn it, who was this guy?

  “Yeah, forget it.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. That laugh should be bottled. “Fix me dinner and we’ll call it even.”

  I was flabbergasted and embarrassed. Apparently, he wasn’t making a pass at me. If he stayed around too much longer I would make a total idiot of myself. “Sure. Right.” I grabbed my keys and purse and headed out before he could see just how discombobulated he made me.

  Too late. He was still laughing as we closed the front door.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I am not much of a cook but I can make a mean omelet and thank God, it’s not expensive. I had everything already in my fridge plus a bad bottle of wine someone had left from a party years ago. I was just hoping it hadn’t turned to vinegar.

  Renny banged away, swore and made multiple trips around the house, even one under the house. Man did know how to work.

  Finally, I heard the water sputter on and a shriek of joy from the bathroom. He came into the kitchen and turned on the faucet there, stood back and pointed to his handy work. He was filthy but happy. Some boys just like to play in the mud.

  “Good work. I am impressed.”

  “You should be, this place was a mess.”