Missing Dixie

by Caisey Quinn

  Liam keeps a shield up, an impenetrable one I’m almost envious of.

  He stumbles through the song with my encouragement two full times before telling me he’s done.

  “Okay, that was good. Did you want to try any other instruments today?”

  He shakes his head and stares at the floor.

  “Whew, playing piano is tiring work. You want a sandwich and some pretzels or something? Tea? A soda?”

  Liam’s eyes lift and lighten for a few seconds before he shrugs. “That’d be okay I guess.”

  Once I’ve retrieved the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and pretzels, I set them down on the table along with a sandwich for myself. I grab both a grape soda and a glass of iced tea, not sure which he’ll prefer. He reaches for the soda and downs almost all of it in two drinks.

  Watching him eat makes me lightheaded and heartbroken. He eats like he hasn’t eaten in months.

  I slide my plate in his direction. “You know what? I messed up. I put grape jelly on my sandwich and I only like strawberry. Think you could eat mine, too, so it doesn’t go to waste?”

  He barely takes a breath before nodding and inhaling the second sandwich.

  Every week I tell myself I’m going to find out what this kid’s deal is, who’s neglecting him this way. Every week I get scared that if I push him he’ll disappear. Asking about his parents has been a major failure each time. His mom is dead, he says, and his dad doesn’t like “no one in their business.”

  I decide to take a different approach.

  “Liam? Can you tell me about your house? What it’s close to?”

  He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and takes a long drink of soda. “Where the big trucks are. It’s by where the big trucks get gas.”

  I rack my brain for a few seconds. There’s a truck stop beside the highway . . . but the only houses out there are run-down and mostly condemned. I tell myself he can’t possibly be crossing the highway alone to get here.

  Can he?

  “Can you tell me what your house looks like? Does it look like this one?”

  His chair scrapes the floor as he backs up quickly to stand. “I gotta go. I’ll get in trouble if I don’t get home soon.”

  I stand as well. “Can I drive you home? You could show me the way. That way I’ll know—”

  “No,” he says, coming the closest to shouting as I’ve ever seen him. “My daddy doesn’t like people on his property. Says it’s trespassin’.”

  “Okay.” I nod and walk slowly with him to the door. “You come back anytime, Liam. Okay? Tonight, tomorrow, whenever you want.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answers as I open the door for him.

  After he leaves and I’ve composed myself a bit, I remember to check my phone and am surprised to see two messages from Dallas. One says to call when I can and the other asks what I think. What I think about what?

  Jag texted and asked me if we could have dinner to talk. I assume he’s planning to ask Cassidy out and I find it mildly amusing that he’s asking me, queen of disastrous and impossible relationships, for advice.

  I text Jag back and tell him to let me know when and where and then I dial Dallas, praying he doesn’t answer out of breath and totally gross me out and ruin my lunch break.

  “Hey, Dix,” Robyn answers cheerfully. “Dallas just got out of the shower but I know he wants to talk to you. Hang tight.”

  “ ’Kay.” My lungs finally take in air, something they’ve struggled to fully do since my brother went missing. “How’s the vacay?”

  “It’s good. Amazing, actually. But, um, Dix, I’m going to say this fast because he doesn’t want you to know because he doesn’t want it to affect your decision but—”

  “That Dixie?” I hear my brother call out in the background.

  “Yeah,” Robyn calls back to him. “We’re gonna have a little girl chat. Go ahead and get dressed.”

  “Thanks for that mental image of my naked brother. Lovely,” I say while making another sandwich.

  “You’re welcome.” Robyn laughs lightly but there is still tension in her voice, “Listen, you did not hear this from me, okay?”

  “It’s twins, right? I knew it!”

  “Seriously I am going to cut you if you keep saying that.”

  I take a bite of my PB&J. “If I say it enough it will eventually happen. Then you can name one after me.”

  “You’re crazy.” I can hear the eye roll in Robyn’s tone.

  “You love me. So what’s the top-secret news?”

  Her voice lowers to an actual whisper I have to strain to hear. “The label released Dallas today. Officially. He’s reaching out to some other contacts in hopes that he can still cut his record one way or another, but it’s pretty up in the air right now, so he’s stressed. Even more than usual.”

  My heart sinks even though I know he suspected this would happen. “Oh no. That sucks.”

  “Yeah it does. Here he is with a pregnant wife and no job. He’s trying to play it cool and not worry me but I see it, the strain it’s put on him since we found out this morning. Anyway, I just wanted to give you a heads-up in case he’s moody or assholish in the near future.”

  I can’t help but laugh because she totally gets him. “Got it. Thanks for the warning.”

  “And just know that we love you,” Robyn says. “Whatever you decide is fine. If you’re not feeling the battle right now, we totally understand.”

  “I’m guessing you’re referring to the battle of the bands competition?”

  “Yeah. Wait, here he is, hon,” she says before explaining herself any further.

  “Hey,” Dallas says, his deep voice booming through the phone much more powerfully than his wife’s.

  “Hey yourself, Mr. Breeland.”

  He chuckles at my comment. “Pretty much sums it up. So how’s it going back home?”

  “Not quite as tropical and exotic as Costa Rica, but we make do.”

  “It is beautiful here. Though not as beautiful as the girl I get to wake up to every day.”

  Sheesh. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

  His chuckle warms my insides. Dallas and I may never have had the easiest life but we’ve known love and happiness. It makes my entire life to hear him so deeply overjoyed in love. It also makes me a teensy bit jealous but that’s my own hang-up.

  “I’m still here. As much as I hate to do this, Dix, we’re running out of time. We have to confirm this practice gig for next week like two days ago and I don’t know what Gavin told you but I think this might be the perfect opportunity for us. One last shot, you know? It’s like . . . fate or something.”

  I move my tongue back and forth to remove the peanut butter from the roof of my mouth and then take a big swallow of sweat tea.

  “I’m thinking about it. I am. I swear.”

  “Did you and Gavin talk about it?”

  “Um, negative. Gavin didn’t say a word about any of that.”

  My brother huffs out a loud breath of annoyance. “Of course he didn’t. Because that would’ve been doing something I asked. Ask Gavin to turn right and he’ll go left every damn time.” Now he sounds more like the overbearing bandleader I know.

  “So . . . the competition?”

  “We don’t have much time to rehearse, and Robyn and I have to get the nursery ready, but it’s two songs in round one, one song in round two, and an original if we make it to the final round.”

  “And you really want to do this? What if you get a better offer as Dallas Walker?”

  “Dallas Walker was a joke, Dix. You know me. I belong with the band . . . and honestly, so do you. But there’s more I need to tell you about the competition. Details I’d hoped Gavin would discuss with you,” Dallas adds. “And I don’t want you to feel pressured, but I’ve seen a few of the other bands performing and I think we have a decent shot.”

  “Spit it out, D.”

  “The contest is sponsored by Rock the Republic Records. First prize is
a recording contract and a significant amount of cash.”

  My chest aches at the idea of ruining this for him. This is why Robyn wanted me to know he might be a little nuts and why she mentioned that his label released him. The tabloids have had a field day with the Country Music Crooner Dallas Walker Walks Away from It All for Love headline and they’ve already sold the exclusive rights to the baby announcement and first photos, but like everything else in this life, that money will run out eventually.

  Turns out babies are expensive.

  I’ve told him repeatedly that even after the renovations to the house and the money I spent on equipment and licensing needed for starting Over the Rainbow, I still have royalties leftover from what Capitol paid for Better to Burn. But we are Larks and Larks are stubborn.

  I want to be ready for this. I want to stand up there with my band and own it like I should’ve done in Nashville instead of letting a bitchy manager get in my head. But so much is still uncertain. This life, in this house, my meager existence, it’s safe. Safer than the road, than hotel rooms with Gavin and nights of watching groupies fall all over him. And truth be told, I like giving music lessons. I look forward to it and it makes me happy.

  “It sounds like a huge opportunity, Dallas. I’m interested, but you know I have a lot going on with Over the Rainbow and—”

  “Dixie, if we win this thing, you can have half the money to incorporate OTR and hire more instructors. If we tour, you could visit inner-city schools during downtime and give group lessons. I have thought about this and I don’t want to take anything away from you. I swear. I don’t even care about the money at this point. We’ll survive. What I want is our band back. I never should’ve walked away from it, never should’ve left you when you were hurting. I should’ve been there for you.”

  Tears well in my eyes because I can hear them in his voice. “Well, shit, Dallas. Now you’re making me cry. Stop that.”

  “Sorry. I’m not trying to upset you or manipulate you. I really will love you just the same if you say you’re not into this at all. But I had to ask. Technically, Gavin was supposed to ask but I’m getting used to him chickening out when it comes to you.”

  Maybe he’s right. Or maybe Gavin was going to play another hand—the “I know you want me” hand. Was he going to screw with me like that? Pretend he wanted to be with me, eventually, when he’s done with the blonde, to get me to go along with this?

  My emotions twist into an intricate knot in the pit of my stomach.

  “I need some time to think about it. Either way, we can still do the warm-up gig. Go ahead and confirm.”

  My brother barely suppresses a yelp of joy. Gavin says we don’t have poker faces. He’s right. We don’t. But he sure as hell does.

  “Awesome. I’m so glad you’re on board,” he tells me on a huge sigh that sounds like relief. “I’ll text you all the details and the competition info with my thoughts on the songs we should play as soon as we hang up.”

  “ ’Kay. Love you, big brother.”

  “Love you, too, Dixie Leigh.” My usually closed-off brother is overflowing with the emotions. I like it. It’s different, but I like it.

  After we hang up, my phone buzzes in my hand and texts from Dallas come in one after another.

  My vision blurs trying to read it all.

  Dallas has really put a lot of thought into this. I agree with all but one of his song choices and I text him back to tell him so. I’m a little surprised when I notice the excitement and anticipation welling up inside me.

  I want this. I want to do this.

  Moreover, I want to win.

  At the edge of my awareness, there is still that same nagging concern that is always there. The thought of playing music with Gavin feels like facing a giant mountainous incline the world expects me to climb. One with terrain I have no clue how to navigate and haven’t had time to train adequately for.

  I shake my head and stand. This isn’t about Gavin Garrison. This is about my band—a band I am just now acknowledging is as much mine as Dallas’s or Gavin’s.

  I can do this. I have loved. And lost. I have grown. I am stronger.

  I’ve learned a few vital lessons over these past few months. It’s not knowledge and experience that helps us to grow and mature.

  It’s pain. It’s damage. It’s recovering from it. Surviving it.

  I am stronger because I had to be. I’ve been hurt so many times. By life, by death, by love, and by loss. I am happier because I’ve known profound sadness, wiser because I’ve made epic mistakes and learned from them. But I am still standing.

  Damn straight I am.

  Oz sits faceup on the kitchen table and I run my fingers over his strings. “You ready for this? Want one more run at this thing? Think we’re ready?”

  The buzz of electricity hums through my fingertips like an answer and it ignites every cell in my body. I am grinning like a maniac as I use my ancient laptop to research the competition.

  I’m still smiling when my next student rings the doorbell. I have survived everything in my life so far—this won’t kill me.

  At least I hope it won’t.

  10 | Gavin

  “GARRISON! HOW MANY times do I have to tell you? No personal calls at work.”

  My boss looks sunburned 365 days a year. He’s turning a deep shade of crimson nearing on blood violet while he goes off on me.

  “I mean, you’re the bartender. Get it? The name says it all. Bar and tender. As in tender of the bar, as in the asshole that holds up the line because he’s on the phone instead of pouring drinks. When you don’t pour the drinks, I don’t make the money. I don’t make the money, I can’t write you a paycheck. Got that?”

  “Cal? Not to be a smartass, but my phone call probably won’t last half as long as that speech just did.”

  “Two minutes,” he says, shoving the phone at me. “I mean it.”

  “I’ll keep it to one,” I say, just to aggravate him because he makes it so easy. Once he shakes his head and moves out of earshot¸ I lift the phone to my ear.

  “I told you not to call me at work. We had an agreement. I can’t keep doing this with you—”

  “Garrison?

  Fuck me.

  “Dallas Lark. Holy shit. How goes the honeymoon? Y’all make a sex tape yet? ’Cause I can probably find a buyer.”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t know it was me,” he practically growls through the phone.

  “Yeah, no. My bad. Thought you were someone else calling.”

  “I gathered that. Something going on?”

  “Nah.” Not anymore, anyway. “What’s up? Other than you being married and all?”

  “The sky. Sorry about calling you at work but I tried your cell and it was off.”

  Yeah. There’s a reason for that. One I have no desire to discuss with him. “It’s fine. Just make it quick and I’ll call you when I get off.”

  Dallas chuckles. “All right. Well, here goes.”

  I shove my palm against my free ear to close it off from the commotion in the bar.

  “I checked in with Dixie about the competition. Funny, she said you hadn’t mentioned it, you freaking pansy.”

  The bottom drops right the fuck out of my gut. Between him and McKinley, everyone is going to ruin my chances with Dixie Lark before I’ve even begun to have one. “Sorry. The opportunity to discuss it just didn’t quite present itself.”

  “Well, I just talked to her and I have to tell you that she sounded kind of stoked about it. She doesn’t know I got released from my label and I don’t want to dump that on her while she’s trying to decide. Nothing’s for sure, but she was definitely interested.”

  “Shit. They dropped you? As in do not call us we won’t call you?”

  “Yeah,” Dallas says slowly. “I’m not all that surprised but I don’t want it to influence her decision. I want her to do this because she wants to, for her, you know? So could you and her maybe rehearse one day this week? Get a feel for if you ca
n handle your romantic drama and get a handle on it so after I get home and get the nursery set up we can get to rehearsing?”

  My eyes close involuntarily and my throat constricts. If McKinley tells Dixie what he knows about me, she will have no interest in ever seeing me again. Which I will fully deserve. “Definitely. I’ll see what we can work out.”

  “Awesome. And, Garrison?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know I love you like a brother from another mother, but seriously, I will end your young life if you hurt her again. I won’t tell you to stay away because Robyn has convinced me that it would be unrealistic and futile for me to try and enforce that. But I will tell you that life has a way of catching up with you when you least expect it and if you don’t tell Dixie everything soon, it might get out of hand before you get a chance, and if that happens in the midst of this competition, I will be ridiculously pissed for multiple reasons.”

  Says the dude not telling her he got dropped from Capitol. But he’s right. “Roger that. I know, man. Believe me, I know. I gotta get back to work but send me a list of songs you’re thinking about.”

  “On it. Talk later. I have to go make sweet love to my wife.”

  “Poor Robyn. It’s bad enough you knocked her up—now she has to see you naked for the rest of her life.”

  Dallas chuckles, or he’s choking to death. I can hardly tell over the noise in the bar.

  Before we hang up I need to ask him one more thing. “Hey, quick question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How’d you know Robyn wouldn’t shut you down? I mean—you left the tour. Walked away from everything. Got dropped from your label. That’s fucking huge. What if she’d told you to go straight to Hell?”

  Dallas is quiet for so long I think we got disconnected, until I hear him clear his throat.

  “For years I told myself she was better off without me. I couldn’t give her the perfect life, the picket fence and all that. But it was the damnedest thing. Robyn didn’t want the perfect life or the picket fence. She just wanted me. Once I figured that out, it was either risk it all and tell her how I felt or live the rest of my life wallowing in regret. Thank God she said yes.”