Missing Dixie

by Caisey Quinn

She breaks out into a fit of maniacal laughter and I’m nearly losing it.

  “Tell me. It’s important. I’ll help you feel better if you just tell me.”

  She sighs, then looks up at me with eyes as dark as midnight. “Carl went to get his son.” She giggles again. “I didn’t even know he had a son. B, B,” she calls to a nearby stoner making out with some girl who looks barely legal. “B, did you know Carl had a son?”

  “Where is his son, Katrina? Answer me. Where is he?” This time I do reach out and grab her.

  Her attention returns to me, her eyes snapping into focus on my face. “How do you know my name?”

  Fuck this.

  I make my way outside, tripping over bodies and God knows what else as I go. The shadows cast by Carl’s house are dark but just beyond them is the light, a glow being sent down from a streetlamp like a beam from Heaven.

  “Gavin,” a female voice calls from the light. “Gavin, wait.”

  29 | Dixie

  THERE ARE CERTAIN things I’ve learned growing up that have shaped who I’ve become.

  My parents taught me about love. My grandparents taught me about patience, kindness, and perseverance.

  Every moment of my life has taught me about music.

  Music can seem complicated to people who don’t play it. Notes and chords, scales, choruses, rhythms, crescendos and such.

  But it all comes down to one

  simple

  thing.

  The beat.

  If you can feel it, you are a part of it.

  The beat has always been within me, in my heart. And with every beat I have loved Gavin, have wanted and needed him.

  He is the beat of Leaving Amarillo. He is the heartbeat of my existence. And I will spend my life loving him with each and every beat of my heart.

  My heart will forever beat in time with his until it no longer beats at all.

  “Gavin, wait.”

  My voice breaks the silent stillness of night and I watch him decide. He’s shrouded in darkness, surrounded by the shadow of Carl’s house. I knew he would come here, knew his mom would eventually pull him back in, just as Dallas predicted.

  I glance over my shoulder at where my brother sits in the driver’s seat of EmmyLou, waiting for Gavin to decide.

  Choose us, I plead silently. Choose the light.

  I hold my hand out, stretching my arm as far as I can until my fingertips cross into darkness.

  “I love you, Gavin,” I say to his frozen form before me. “I will love you in times of strength and in times of weakness. I love all the parts of you—the darkness and the light. And I will love you forever no matter what you decide.”

  His eyes gleam in the glow of the lamp above.

  “Blue . . .”

  I shake my head. “You don’t have to explain. I can do the math. But here, now, Gavin, I need you to choose. I need you to pick me, pick the band, pick us, pick this path. I will love you forever. I choose you. But if you don’t choose me, here, now, I’ll have to love you enough to let you go.”

  Tires squeal on pavement beside us, a beat-up blue Ford coming angrily to a halt mere feet from where Gavin stands.

  Carl gets out wielding a baseball bat and Dallas is out of EmmyLou like a genie out of a bottle.

  Carl’s quicker. “There you are, you little son of a bitch. Did you take my son? You and your little friend playing house, are you? Not so tough now, are you?” Carl turns to me and Gavin steps in between us.

  “No,” I whisper quietly so that only Gavin can hear. “He’s not worth it. This is his property and he has a restraining order against you. Stop, Gav. Think.”

  Another man gets out of the truck that Carl was in and sneers menacingly at us. This is how it happens. This is how people with bright futures end up in comas and wheelchairs and prison—one moment, one bad decision leads to them flushing their dreams down the toilet.

  “Stay away from her,” Gavin calls out, walking closer to them and farther from me. “Stay away from my mom, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Liam.”

  “Well her,” Carl calls out nodding toward me, “I could give a fuck about. But your mom can’t seem to stay away from me, pretty boy. And Liam is my boy. You hear that, you little piano-playing bitch? My boy!”

  I lung toward Gavin, barely catching him around the waist as Dallas wraps his arms behind his back. He’s ready to fight Carl, to throw everything away for this sad, pathetic man.

  “Your mom has made her choices, man,” Dallas says quietly. “You need to make your own. Get in the truck and let’s go back to the Tavern. Now.”

  Gavin doesn’t budge. My stomach is hollow and my heart aches for him. This is on him. I can’t save him from this. From himself. This time it has to be his choice.

  “We’ll be in the truck,” I tell him in his ear. “You decide which you’d rather do. Spend a lifetime fighting lowlifes for your mom’s sake, or be with me, with us.”

  Dallas gapes at me but I gesture for him to follow me to the truck.

  “He has to choose, Dallas. We can’t force him into our world anymore. He has to come willingly.”

  I kiss Gavin gently on the cheek. “I love you. All of you,” I whisper before walking away.

  He stands tall and unflinching and I am dying inside.

  Either way, something will end tonight.

  I just don’t know what it will be.

  30 | Gavin

  I’M TORN BETWEEN two worlds, two opposite versions of myself.

  They say man has two basic reactions: fight or flight.

  For the first time in my life I’m choosing flight.

  “Go to hell, Carl.” I glance up at his house. “No, wait, you’re already there.”

  He glares at me and takes a step forward.

  “Think long and hard about what you’re about to do. I have witnesses this time. Lots of them.”

  The police I notified on my jog over from Kyung’s begin pulling up with sirens wailing.

  Carl glances around and curses me under his breath.

  “Have a nice life, Carl. By the way, I made sure to leave the front door open in invitation so they can tally up the many kilos of illegal narcotics you’re in possession of. Not to mention the underage girl inside. Take care now.”

  Without a backward glance, I make my way to where Dixie stands next to EmmyLou.

  “What about your mom?” she asks with wary eyes as I draw closer.

  “I talked to Ashley. She’s going to see if my mom can get mandated rehab instead of prison time, but you were right about something.”

  “Oh yeah?” Dixie gives me an adorable half smile. “And what’s that, drummer boy?”

  “It was time for me to make my own choice, for me.”

  She nods with shining eyes. “And what did you decide?”

  “I decided we’d better haul ass if we’re going to make it back to the Tavern on time.”

  Dixie yelps out a small cry as I wrap her in my arms and place her in the truck. Dallas says something that sounds like “hell yeah,” and we are off.

  On the way to a bright new future, on the path that was meant for us, the one that began the day I met Dallas and Dixie Lark on an old, dilapidated front porch.

  “One, two, one, two, three, four.”

  I count down the beat and we launch into the song Dixie wrote for our original performance in the battle of the bands. Dallas made a few modifications and with my beat in the background it’s become one hell of a song. The audience seems to agree as we play, but we all know it isn’t up to them. It’s up to the competition judge’s panel, which includes an executive from the record label that will be signing the winner.

  My palms are sweaty as hell but I manage to hang on to my sticks. I watch Dixie as she performs, and think of how she may never realize I have been watching her, loving her, from this vantage point since we began playing years ago.

  The crowd is quiet for a moment when we finish and I begin to panic. But
just before I’m convinced they hated it, applause breaks out and fills the room. It’s loud and enthusiastic and for a little while it feels like we already won.

  We make our way offstage and head to the bar behind Dallas. He orders all three of us drinks, even Dixie, and we each take a shot of Fireball.

  “We killed that,” Dixie says, grinning at me after making a twisted face at the burn from the shot. “I mean, I was nervous, you know? It’s a new song, we hadn’t rehearsed as much as we should have, but wow. We nailed it. It was even better than I imagined it could be.”

  “Agreed,” Robyn says, coming up behind Dixie and sidling up to where Dallas is leaning against the bar. “I’m biased, but personally I think it’s in the bag.”

  “Might be,” Dallas says before planting a kiss on her lips. “Even if it’s not, it was one hell of a performance.” He reaches out to fist-bump me and Dixie and we return the gesture.

  “It’s been one hell of a night, that’s for sure.” I take a long pull of the beer Jake brought me and nod toward Dixie. “Think we could catch a minute outside? Alone?”

  Dixie grins at me and her smile is everything. “I think I can spare a moment for you. Maybe.”

  It takes us a while to maneuver through the crowd and make our way to the back door but we do. Amid several pats on the back and hearty congratulations we finally escape the insanity.

  “That was something all right,” I say once we’re out back beside the dumpsters.

  “Yeah, it was.” Dixie leans back against the building and stares up at the stars while I stare at her. “You think everything has a purpose, Gav? Us? Our music? All of it?”

  I clear my throat and glance up at the stars with her. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess I hope so. It’d be nice to know someone was up there knowing what they were doing. Clearly none of us down here have it all figured out.”

  She laughs lightly but her smile is faint.

  “Everything okay, Bluebird?”

  With a heavy sigh she turns toward me. “I am so proud of you for tonight, for choosing this instead of the darkness. But I can’t stop thinking about someone else. Someone else I’m afraid will forever be lost in the dark if we don’t do something.”

  “You got another man on the side, Lark? I gotta say, I didn’t see this coming.”

  She shoves playfully at my chest. “Liam, Gav. I can’t stop thinking about Liam. About what he’s going through and how sad he must be and confused. Scared, probably.”

  “Probably,” I agree. “But they’re keeping him away from Carl and that’s certainly a good thing.”

  She wraps her arms around herself and I decide to wrap mine around her as well. “I know. I’m glad he isn’t with Carl. I just keep thinking I wish I’d had more time with him. More campouts, more cookies to make, more music lessons to give. I . . . I miss him.”

  I squeeze her tightly. “I know you do, babe. And I get it. But a little boy like that, one who’s had a life like mine, he’s a lot of responsibility. Especially when you’re a twenty-year-old woman living on her own—busy with a band and a thriving music business.”

  “I don’t care about any of that,” she bites out.

  Color me surprised. “You don’t care about Leaving Amarillo or Over the Rainbow? Since when?”

  She shakes her head and shrugs out of my grasp. I let my hands fall to my sides.

  “I do care about the band and about my organization. That’s not what I mean. I just mean all the successful bands or businesses in the world won’t mean anything if I have to live my life knowing that little boy slipped through the cracks.”

  I nod. “Like I did, right?”

  She gives me a thin smile and watery eyes. “But don’t you get it? You turned out okay, because you found a family to care for you. Me, Dallas, Nana, and Papa. You had us. You found love. It’s why you’re surprisingly well-adjusted. Why you choose the light instead of the dark. But that’s why I’m worried. What if Liam doesn’t ever find that?”

  “There are no guarantees in life,” I begin slowly, hoping a soothing tone will ease the blow of what I’m about to say. “There were none for us and there will be none for Liam. The best we can do is be there, be available to him in whatever capacity we can manage.”

  “That’s not good enough,” she says shortly. “I’m sorry, but it’s not. Our paths crossed for a reason. I believe his path crossed with ours for a reason, too.”

  “And you think that reason is . . .” She gives me a pointed look and I place my arms back around her and pull her to my chest. “You can’t save everyone, Bluebird. You can’t love everyone all better even if you try your hardest.”

  “I don’t want to save everyone,” she says in a sexy pouty voice that turns me on at the most inopportune time. “Just you. And Liam. Is that so much to ask?”

  “No, babe. It’s not. I just think it might be a bit more complicated, since Liam is a kid and—”

  I’m interrupted by the vibrating of her phone in her pocket between us.

  “Speaking of complicated. It’s our complicated blond attorney,” Dixie says dazedly while staring at the phone.

  “Answer it. Maybe it’ll be good news for a change. Maybe she called to wish us luck tonight. Or maybe Carl reported me for violating the protection order.”

  She takes a few steps to the side to answer and I can barely hear her over the noise coming through the back door someone has propped open.

  I walk over to close it but Dallas’s head pops out before I can. “Guys. Get in here. Now. They’re announcing the winner.”

  I glance over at Dixie, who holds one finger up signaling that we should wait while she continues her phone conversation.

  “We’ll be in there in just a sec,” I tell Dallas.

  “Hurry,” he huffs out on an exasperated breath. “They’re making the announcement like right now.”

  I nod. “Got it. We’ll be right there.”

  He lets the door slam and Dixie ends her call.

  She opens her mouth to speak but once again the back door opens and all I hear is cheering and indecipherable noise from inside.

  “We won!” Dallas yells into the back alley while hitting the back door hard enough to bruise a few knuckles. “Holy shit, you two. Get the hell in here. We won! We’re officially being signed to Rock the Republic Records. We’re going on tour. Like next week! Get in here right now!”

  He’s practically blasting off into outer space. “Slow down, Rocket Man,” I tell him. “Dix? Bluebird? You okay?” She’s stoic in the face of Dallas’s epic news. Not smiling. Not even blinking. “Dixie?”

  Even Dallas has begun to look worried. “Dixie? Say something, please. We won.”

  She blinks once, then stares at us as if we’re the ones who just returned to reality.

  “That was Ashley. She had . . . news.”

  Dallas and I wait silently for her to continue. Her eyes are shining but I can’t tell if they’re tears of joy or sadness.

  “I’ve just been approved as Liam’s temporary guardian. Starting right now.”

  31 | Dixie

  NANA USED TO say when it rains, it pours. She had a lot of sayings, but that was one of her favorites. Probably because it was one hundred percent true.

  Papa rephrased it a little less gently, something about the shit hitting the fan all at once.

  I am certainly finding it to be a true sentiment if ever there was one.

  Rock the Republic has been sympathetic to my situation inasmuch as they’ve allowed us to put off touring for several months while I figure out how to manage being a part of my band and Liam’s sole caregiver.

  The truth is, though, I’m not the only one in love with Liam.

  Dallas taught him how to play guitar and basketball.

  Gavin taught him to play the drums.

  Despite being an overworked and sleep-deprived brand-new mom, Robyn makes spaghetti every Thursday night because it’s Liam’s favorite.

  Mrs. Lawson makes him cook
ies that he and Gavin openly admit are better than mine. And when I make brinner? Aka breakfast for dinner? They all show up. And not just for my biscuits.

  Liam’s laughter, Liam’s smiles, they’re rare—but when they’re bestowed upon you, you can’t help but feel special, worthy, even.

  We are a family, ragtag group we may be; we are a loving unit of living, breathing people who would do whatever it takes for one another. If that’s not family, I don’t know what is.

  But we are a family that is out of time. Rock the Republic has been generous and genuinely supportive. But they have a tour to fill, vacant concert seats that they need folks to purchase tickets for, and a whole slew of other costs dependent upon me figuring out how to be both Liam’s guardian and the fiddle player and frequent vocalist in Leaving Amarillo.

  I know Gavin has forced Dallas to back off on pushing me for an answer, but I also know that if I don’t give them one soon, our band will be replaced on the tour by Midnight Revival—an amazingly talented duo that has been blazing up the music scene.

  This morning I have to meet with Ashley to discuss my options. Turns out, she’s not as much like Mandy Lantram as I initially believed. She’s not a succubus in designer business suits. What she and Gavin had was a mutual arrangement between two consenting adults and as much as I hate to admit it, I would’ve done the same thing in her position.

  Sitting across from her, I’m thankful to realize that I truly have no animosity toward her. She has been helpful with Liam and hasn’t made a single pass at Gavin since we cleared things up in her office months ago.

  “So I looked over everything,” she tells me while taking her seat at the desk and opening our file. “And you don’t have very many options, I’m afraid.”

  I groan because this was pretty much what I expected to hear.

  Part of me wishes Gavin were here but he’s visiting his mom in rehab and I know he’s where he needs to be.

  “I put together your two most appealing options and obviously you need time to read over this and think and discuss with your family.” She slides two typed documents over to me and I glance down at the jumble of legal-speak where most statements begin, “The guardian shall be permitted” . . . and so on.