Good Time Bad Boy

by Sonya Clark

  Wade picked up a set list that he’d left behind the last night he played. “You look like something’s up.”

  “Randy made me the manager.” Saying it out loud made it feel real, and that scared her. But only a little. She knew she could handle this job.

  Wade’s face lit with excitement. “That’s fantastic, honey! You should be proud of this.”

  “I am. And I know I can do it.”

  He took her hand. “You are going to have your own place one day, just like you want. I know it.”

  Daisy nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Wade kissed her, a soft brush of his lips across hers. She leaned into him, not caring who saw or what they thought.

  “I guess you better get on the road,” she said. “Eight o’clock comes early. You want to be well-rested for all you’ve got going on tomorrow.”

  Wade ran his hands up and down her arms. “Becky’s got nearly every minute of tomorrow scheduled, from breakfast to almost midnight.”

  “These meetings are important. I’m glad she’s in your corner.”

  “Daisy.”

  The sadness in his voice resounded like a warning shot. “Not now. I can’t. Not yet.” Panic clawed at her insides. Words, three of them, wanted so much to slip past her lips but she refused to let them. She would not let him go to Nashville feeling guilty or like he was hurting her. She framed his face with her hands and looked into his dark eyes. “You should be proud, too. Your new songs are amazing and you look and sound so good. They’d be crazy not to offer you a record deal on the spot.”

  “I’m just talking to people and singing for them. There’s no guarantee anything will come of it, much less happen right away.”

  Maybe not right away, but it would happen. He was too good for it not to. She gave him a quick, hard kiss then stepped away. “I gotta get to work and you need to hit the road.”

  “I love you,” he said. “I’ll call you later.”

  “You better. Be careful.”

  After one last lingering kiss, he left. Daisy watched him go then busied herself with any work she could find.

  Chapter 40

  Friday night on Nashville’s Lower Broadway was crowded with people. Music spilled out of every bar and club. For now, Wade just strolled, content with the night air and the flow of the crowd on the sidewalk and the lassitude of his own exhaustion. He’d spent all day talking to record company representatives, the conversations sometimes awkward, frequently positive. To say the new songs went over well was an understatement. Daisy’s assessment of much of country radio now being aimed at a young market was spot on, but it seemed there was a hunger for the more adult fare he was writing these days. In one meeting he’d been told point blank that he had no chance of knocking the young guys off the top of the charts, but the label sure wouldn’t mind having their own latter day Kris Kristofferson. Wade had joked that he was glad everybody liked his new beard and played another song.

  Becky was thrilled with his attitude, and with the reception he’d gotten from one executive after another. She’d pulled out all the stops to put these meetings together and he didn’t want to disappoint her. So he’d answered the intrusive questions about his past behavior and talked about how much he’d changed. He’d played both old and new songs, whatever anyone wanted to hear. The only time he’d stumbled was when asked what he wanted out of his career at this point. Now, as he walked past some of the bars he’d played when he first came to Nashville, he found himself asking that same question.

  What did he want?

  A familiar melody drifted out of a bar and he paused on the sidewalk. Someone was singing Empty Rooms. Doing a damn good job of it, too. He didn’t often get to hear other people covering his own songs. That and the quality of the voice pulled him into the bar.

  The place was small and packed tight with Friday night music lovers. A young man stood on the tiny stage in the far corner, hiding his nerves behind a Gibson acoustic in a sunburst finish that had seen better days. It played beautifully, though, and the kid was damned good. Wade stood near the bar and listened to someone else sing his biggest hit, a dozen different emotions hitting him at once. One by one they fell away and he just listened.

  The song had always been so deeply personal to him that he’d never been able to separate it from himself the way songwriters usually had to do when hearing someone else sing their songs. For the first time, that separation happened and he was hearing the song as if for the first time. Pride surged through him at how good the song was, but beyond that was something more, something unexpected. This young guy with curly blond hair and a nervous, unpolished stage presence had enormous potential in his voice and his guitar playing. He had heart and soul and a definite charisma underneath his nerves. He also had the eye of every woman in the place, which didn’t hurt.

  Wade was about to step up to the bar to order a beer and ask who the singer was when he saw a sign advertising it as open mic night. Holy shit, the kid just walked in off the street. Energized, Wade pulled out his phone and texted Becky to drag herself out of whatever industry function she was schmoozing and get down here.

  The singer left the stage to a hearty round of applause, mumbling his thanks into the microphone. A couple of pretty girls approached him and Wade almost backed off, but there would be plenty of time for girls for this guy later. He made eye contact, not sure if he’d be recognizable with the beard and slightly shaggy hair. The singer’s eyes widened as big as Sunday dinner plates, giving Wade his answer.

  “That was a nice job you did with that song,” Wade said.

  “Oh my God.” The singer held his guitar in front of him like a shield.

  Wade understood that all too well. “Come on, let me buy you a beer.” He got them settled at a table near the back with a pitcher and two glasses. “What’s your name?”

  “Rusty Parrish. It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’m a big fan.”

  “Wade Sheppard.” He offered his hand across the table and the kid shook it, a slightly glazed look in his eyes. Though Wade would never compare himself to one of his idols, he remembered the first time he met George Strait and knew the best course of action was to barrel right past the kid’s star struck shock and get down to business. Treat him like a professional and see if he could act like one.

  “That may be the first time I’ve heard someone sing Empty Rooms,” Wade said. “How long you been singing that one?”

  Rusty cleared his throat and sipped his beer. “Honestly? Since before I really understood it.”

  Wade nodded. “Yeah, there were a lot of songs like that I used to sing in my teens and twenties. You got a regular gig anywhere?”

  “Does construction work count?” Rusty gave a rueful smile.

  Damn, that brought back memories. “I hated construction work. Always afraid I was going to mess up my hands and not be able to play. Valet parking wasn’t so bad.”

  “Construction doesn’t work out, I’ll try that one next. I did have a regular gig back home. Just a little honky tonk, nothing like this.”

  “How long you been in town?”

  “Four months.”

  “It took a year for the right person to find me. You write?”

  “A little. I’m nowhere near to your level, but I’m working on it. I like the new songs that have been making the rounds on Youtube. Especially Good Time Bad Boy. That’s a hit song right there.”

  “I’d like it to be.” For someone, Wade didn’t add. “Where you from, Rusty?”

  “Orange, Texas. It’s not far from Beaumont.”

  “I know right where it is. I’ve played that area. Been all up, down, and sideways over Texas.” They talked at length about the honky tonks of Texas, touring, the best places to get a cheap but good meal in Nashville, and their guitars. By the time Becky Walker came in the door, imperious as a queen, Wade had made up his mind. He leaned over and tapped the table. “You think you know Good Time Bad Boy well enough to get up there and play it?”

/>   Rusty did a good job of not choking on his beer but it was a close thing. “Are you kidding me?”

  Wade grinned. “No, I most certainly am not.”

  Rusty stared at him. “What’s going on here?”

  “I want you to get back up on that stage and sing that song. That’s all.”

  “You’re up to something. I just can’t tell what. Why would you want someone else to debut that song in a Nashville bar? Why not get up there yourself?”

  Wade leaned back in his seat and made eye contact with Becky over the young singer’s shoulder. She gave him a speculative look. “Because I’ve already had what you want and I want something different now.” He looked at Rusty. “You never know who’s going to be in the audience at a place like this. You need to remember that, but you need to relax too.” He took the last sip of his beer. “Go on. I’d like to hear you sing Good Time Bad Boy.”

  Rusty tapped his glass on the table. “Let me go get my name on the list again.”

  Wade left the table too, joining Becky at the bar. She raised her wine glass and said to the bartender. “This is on him.”

  “Yes, it is,” Wade said. He pulled out bills from his wallet and paid for the drink. “Thank you for coming down here. I think you’ll be glad you did.”

  “What are you up to, Wade?”

  “We talked about a record deal but we never did talk about revitalizing Hummingbird Music.” That was the name of the publishing company they’d started years ago so that he could retain full control of his songs.

  She watched him as she sipped her wine. “So the rumors are true. There is a woman back home waiting on you.”

  “No. She’s not waiting on me.” That got a raised eyebrow from his manager. Wade shrugged. Daisy had a life of her own, dreams of her own. He’d never ask her to give that up. “I don’t want to tour anymore. I don’t want to make videos and do interviews and talk to deejays and all that other crap. I was a star once, I don’t need to do it again. But I’m a good songwriter and I can help you guide this kid or one just like him to the top. We can pitch my songs to other singers and I can cash the royalty checks and live my life the way I want.”

  “With this woman who’s not waiting on you?”

  “If I can persuade her to make room for me in her life,” he said archly. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’ve got in mind.”

  “You always were a romantic.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I went to the trouble of setting all this up today, and now you tell me you want to go play country gentleman.”

  “Spend my days fishing and my nights, ah.” He let a dirty grin finish the thought.

  Becky gave his shoulder a playful shove. “I don’t want to know about your nights.” She raised her wine glass to indicate Rusty, who was taking the stage. “This kid better be good.”

  For the second time that night, Wade listened as someone else sang one of his songs. It opened up a whole new way to look at music and at what his life could be. He watched Rusty, but he also watched the audience response and kept one eye on Becky. He could see the exact moment she made up her mind to make the young Texan a star.

  This had been a good trip to Nashville after all, but Wade found himself eager to get home.

  Chapter 41

  Daisy pushed her business homework away and picked up one of the books for her music history class. She flipped through the glossy black and white pictures, reading all the captions carefully. After all the dry, boring management classes she’d been taking, this would make for a welcome change of pace.

  A car pulled up in her drive and her heart hammered in her chest. She wasn’t expecting Wade back until Sunday, but maybe he was home early. Daisy rushed to the door and flung it open before he even had a chance to knock.

  It wasn’t Wade.

  It was Alice.

  Her mother stood on the wobbly stoop with a look on her face that Daisy had never seen. In someone else, she might have called it contrition.

  “Daisy, honey, I need to talk to you.”

  Daisy said nothing, trying to figure out what was going on and how to handle it. Maybe if she texted Dee and her sister could get out here fast enough, there wouldn’t be another argument.

  “I know you’re not happy with me,” Alice said. “I’m just asking for a few minutes.”

  Daisy swallowed a hard lump of fear. “Momma, I don’t want to fight with you anymore. It’s not good for either one of us, and nothing ever gets settled.”

  “I know.” Alice brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. For the first time, Daisy noticed it was mostly gray. “It’s just that, I talked about this with Deanna last night, and she said I should tell you. I don’t know if it’ll make any difference, but I promised her I would try.”

  “The minute this gets anywhere near a fight, it ends and you have to go. Understood?” Daisy didn’t want to do this but it felt inevitable, especially if Dee was pushing in the background. Her sister might barely have a handle on her own life sometimes, but she went above and beyond to do what she believed was right for her family.

  Alice nodded, relief spilling across her features. “I understand.”

  Daisy led her mother to the kitchen table, for once not caring if her college textbooks were in evidence. Alice glanced at the books and laptop, not commenting but not sneering either. Progress on that front, at least.

  “I can’t handle going in a bar,” Alice said abruptly. “Even being at someone’s house and they’re drinking is too much for me. I know it makes me weak. I don’t even like to go on the beer aisle in Walmart. Dee and Hailey buy soda for me so I don’t have to go on that aisle.”

  Daisy eased into a chair. “If that’s what you have to do, then that’s what you have to do.”

  “I can’t understand people who have just one drink. Who take just one Xanax or smoke just one joint. Just one was never enough for me, you know?”

  Daisy nodded. God, she knew.

  “So I never liked you working at a bar. I didn’t understand how you could do it and not be like I was, or get to be like I was. It just...it doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “I don’t know why some people can have a single drink and others can’t. I just know I’m one of the lucky ones.”

  “Well, your brother’s not and Dee won’t go near any kind of alcohol or drugs to even find out. But she has helped me to see that you are one of the lucky ones, like you said. It still feels strange to me but I’m trying. I’m telling you this because I want you to know I mean it when I say, congratulations on your new job as the manager at Rocky Top.”

  Disbelief froze Daisy in place for a long moment. That was probably the nicest thing her mother had ever said to her. Which, to be honest, was pretty pathetic, but with their history Daisy knew she was going to have to take what she could get. “Thank you, Momma.”

  Alice nodded. “There’s something else I have to tell you. I want you to let me get it all out before you say anything. Can you do that?”

  “Yeah, go ahead.” Daisy’s stomach clenched.

  “There’s this couple at church. They have a new baby, a little boy. He’s about seven months old now. They got him when he was two weeks old.”

  Jesus. Daisy wanted to call a halt to this conversation right now but part of her was curious.

  “They talk a lot about it in church. How long they waited, how grateful they are. How much they prayed for God to send them a child. They talk about how sorry they feel for the boy’s mother, about how hopeless she must have felt about having to give up her baby. How strong she was to do it, so that he could have a better life. Because surely they can give him a better life than she could have, right? Maybe it’s even true. They’re up in their thirties, got good jobs and a nice big house. All they know about the birth mother is that she was eighteen when she had the baby.” Alice began to lose her composure, collapsing into herself. “She was eighteen.”

  Daisy wanted to say something but didn’t know what, and she didn’t know if Alice was
finished. So she sat there and watched her mother struggle to pull herself together. It made her sad, a little angry, but mostly sad.

  “So it’s been on my mind a lot more lately than ever before. And I guess I’m more clear-headed now, so I see things differently now than I did when it happened.” Her voice went small and soft and defeated. “I don’t like what I see.”

  Daisy blinked away sudden tears.

  “I failed my kids,” Alice said with surprising clarity. “I failed you so badly that you thought you couldn’t be a mother yourself. I couldn’t face that for so long, and I turned all that hating myself into hating you.” She raised her head to look at Daisy square in the eyes. “But I never hated you, honey. I know now I made you feel that way, but I never hated you. I love you and I’m so proud of you and you need to know that.” Her face crumpled as her words turned to sobs.

  Daisy couldn’t quite bring herself to embrace her mother, not after all the years of enmity between them, but she took her mother’s hands in hers. “I hear you, Momma. I hear all of it.” And she did – the unspoken apology, the regret, the shame and blame and fear. A massive, tangled knot of dysfunction sat between them, such a mess that Daisy had lost hope long ago of being able to unravel it. But maybe, just maybe, if her mother could say these things and so clearly mean them, then maybe Daisy could let go of some of her anger and pull on that first string along with Alice.

  “You’re good with Hayley,” Daisy said. She knew that was something that would make Alice feel good. “Donnie’s kids, too, even if you don’t get to see them as much.”

  Alice pulled one hand away to wipe the tears from her face. “Being a grandmother is a hell of a lot easier.”

  “So what, it’s still something you’re good at.”

  “I know you’ll never be comfortable with me the way Dee is, and I have to live with that. But it would mean a lot if you could start coming to Sunday dinner again sometimes. When you feel like it.”