Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  "What happened?"

  "Davis Cole happened."

  The book slips from my fingers, but I catch it before it hits the floor. Davis Cole? Can’t be the one I’m thinking of. There must be some coincidence.

  As if she can read my thoughts, Casey adds, "Yeah, you heard me right. The Davis Cole."

  "Who are you?"

  The girl who doesn't date musicians not only turns out to be one herself but has some correlation to one of the biggest names in modern rock. I'm personally not a fan of Blood Sport, but you'd have to be living under a rock not to know who they are. Davis Cole, their volatile bass player, was always in the news. Guy was as deranged off the stage as he was on.

  "This isn't who I am. It's who I was. I left everythin’ behind to follow Davis. He took what he could and left the rest."

  Blood Sport may be climbing the charts with their over processed brand of mainstream rock ‘n’ roll, but their biggest claim to fame was the celebrity death scandal that surrounded them. Just after the release of their debut album, news about the death of their bass player rocked the world. They found him in a dwelling unsuitable for human life, surrounded by enough dope to kill a horse.

  "How do you even know him?"

  Casey snorts out a humorless laugh. "Davis ain't shit. He's a bumpkin from small town Texas, just like I am. He coasted off my talent and used me as a steppin’-stone to pave his way through showbiz. Blood Sport’s first album was written by me."

  "Hold up." I lift both palms, urging her to slow down. "You wrote Fire and Brimstone? You don't even like rock music."

  "I don't"—she sighs—"but I loved Davis. At least, I thought I did. And I'd have done anythin’ to help him. Includin’ set my career aside."

  "What?"

  “I started out as a pageant contestant. The fatherless daughter of the town whore, no one even looked at me twice. Sure, I was pretty, but so were all the other girls. I was nothin’ special.” Casey slides the book from my hands and lets her fingertips graze over the photo on the page. “But when I started to sing, people stopped judging and started listenin’. I wasn’t just another Grainger disappointment. I was Casey Jane. All that fell to shit the second I saw him.

  "Davis had a very enigmatic personality. He was handsome and slick and had a way of getting’ inside you without you even realizing it. The no-name record label that picked me up paired us together. He played bass in the studio band, and we clicked right away. Two weeks later, we were in New York.”

  Casey's glassy eyes meet mine, but her face is impassive. “We lived in a roach-infested shit box that cost more money than I even care to mention. I was workin’, savin’, payin’ our bills, and he was livin’ the rock star dream. It wasn’t uncommon for me to come home and find Davis in our bed with other women, naked and drugged out of his mind. If I got on to him about it, he’d only smack me around, so after a while, I just withdrew.

  “Little by little, he'd taken it all. All our money, all my jewelry, and every shred of self-respect I had. All of it—just gone. Stuck in his arm or up his nose." She slides her hands through her hair, pushing it back and resting it on one shoulder, mangling the entire length with her fingers. "One day, I came home, and he was dead."

  The air in the room is thick as she finishes her story. My heart smacks against my ribcage hard enough to cause bruises.

  “That’s why you stopped dating?”

  She shrugs, looking away. “Ever seen a real dead body, AJ?”

  The memory of my father crashes down onto to me hard. An icy chill rolls down my arms and freezes the depths of my belly. I feel my face contort into a look of disgust as I nod. Just once, and it was far too many times.

  “Don’t you see? It’s my fault. I wished him dead. I blamed him for the mess I made of my life, and I wanted him gone, but I was too afraid to leave him myself.” Casey lifts her gaze and stares at me through her long lashes. “I’ve spent so many years wishin’ I’d stayed in Texas, but now, I realize everything happens for a reason. Funny thing about manure. It may stink to holy heaven, but the most beautiful things grow from it.”

  “What grew from yours?”

  She lifts her hand and rests it on my cheek. “You. You're my beautiful thing, and I wouldn’t change a minute of my shit life because it brought us together."

  A cyclone of emotions spins inside me. Anger, confusion, anguish, love—they rotate so fast I want to reach out and grab one just to hold something for longer than a second. They all blur together, making my head feel numb and dizzy.

  “If you want to leave, I understand.”

  My fingers catch under her chin, lifting it to meet my gaze. Her eyes are deep blue pools of fresh, unfallen tears. She’s cried so much I can’t bear to see them anymore. “None of this matters. The only thing I care about is you and me, our future.”

  “You mean it?”

  I nod, and Casey falls into my arms, pressing her lips against mine. The salty taste of her damp skin trickles into my mouth as I press it all over her cheeks and eyelids, kissing away her tears. “You don’t have any more giant confessions, though, right? You’re not gonna tell me you used to be a guy, are ya?”

  “No.” When she giggles, the sound leaves me breathless.

  24

  Casey

  Maren Morris’s smoky style hums from the speakers of the little radio Gran kept in the kitchen. She and I always fought because the moment she turned her back, I’d change it from the religious station to whatever I felt like listening to at the time. Right now, I’m yowling along to “My Church” at the top of my lungs, trying to pretend that I didn’t inadvertently thrust us all into the strangest situation imaginable.

  Austin spent the majority of the day making himself scarce. Either in the yard tinkering with the truck or minding the horses. He didn’t even come in for lunch, which is a first since I’ve been back. Even when we weren’t talking, he made an appearance in the house at least once. I hate that I hurt him, not once, but twice now. It’s the last thing I intended to do, but I can’t deny what’s in my heart.

  The pies are starting to pile up in the kitchen, and I’m almost out of flour when I hear the heavy sound of boots scraping the tattered linoleum behind me. Warm hands caress my back, sending a thrill slithering down my spine that snakes around my front just like the masculine set of arms do.

  “Hey, baby.”

  A flour dust cloud flies into the air as I turn, expecting AJ, but run smack-dab into the chest of Austin Krehley. His hands hold firm to the butcher-block countertop behind me, caging me between his body and the cabinetry with nowhere to run. The scents of hay, cotton, and all things man waft off him, making the breath hitch in my throat.

  Why do you still have this effect on me? Stop it. Stop invading my dreams, stop turning me on, just stop, stop, stop. I’ve chosen.

  I’ve chosen …

  “We gotta talk, Casey Jane.” His voice is low and hushed. If there’s a God above, he’ll make sure AJ is far, far away from this kitchen and doesn’t bear full witness to the way Austin sends an unmistakable flush growing along my skin.

  “What about?”

  His gaze follows the path of my tongue as I wet my dry lips, and he pulls his own between his teeth. The Austin I know is not this aggressive. He’s not the type of man who takes what he wants. He doesn’t chase. Doesn’t fight. Yet here he is, pinning me against him and staring down at me with hungry, desperate eyes that are begging me to succumb to whatever this is brewing in the tight space between us.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” My whispering voice comes out too sexy for its own good.

  “Why him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he’s all wrong for you. He can’t give you the life that I can give you. The love you deserve. You and I … we can run this ranch together—make it great again. We can be great again. He’s gonna make a mistake, and it’s gonna cost you everything. Jersey Johnny doesn’t belong down here, and you know it.”


  “No. AJ wants to be with me, wherever I am.” Uncertainty drips off my lips along with the words. With his thick black boots and heavy metal tees, AJ’s an obvious fish out of water here. Could Austin be right? Am I making another mistake?

  No. Austin is wrong. AJ wants to be here. We’re good together. I’m sure of it …

  When he leans in farther, another whiff of his masculine scent overtakes the sweet smell of fruit and sugar lingering in the air. His breath flutters against my ear. He’s too close to me. I’m uncomfortable. “But do you really wanna be with him? Look at you. You’re tremblin’, baby girl. I’ve barely touched you, yet here you are meltin’ like a pad of butter on a hot plate.”

  “You need to back up.”

  “Stop fightin’ this. I know you still want me.” When Austin shifts his hips, I feel his arousal beginning to take shape beneath the heavy denim.

  “I said back up, Austin. I’m serious.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then you’re begging to have your ass kicked.” AJ’s voice cuts the tension, making both our heads whip toward the direction of the hallway. “She said back off. Or are your ears too full of horse shit to hear her?” he adds, stomping toward us. He grabs Austin by the bicep and manually forces him back. “Is this your game? Cornering frightened women when they’re alone?”

  Another duel in the kitchen is about to go down. A showdown at the OK Corral. Guns blazing, best man wins. This can’t be happening.

  I fly into action, pushing AJ back with one arm while pressing into Austin’s chest with the other, holding back the bull about to charge. “Enough! Go to your corners!”

  The tension in Austin’s shoulders eases, but AJ’s testosterone is still firing on both cylinders. He morphed from man to machine; ready to defend me from what appeared to be the start of an attack. If only he knew, the only attack I was suffering was of the hormonal variety. At any rate, we both need a little space from Austin and some time to clear our heads.

  “Come on.” The pulse in AJ’s neck begins to slow when I thread my hands behind his back. “It’s your first official day as an honorary Texan. We should celebrate!”

  “Where you goin’?” Austin blusters.

  “The Wander.”

  A slow roll of red rage creeps up Austin’s face. “Course. Gotta show off your boy toy to all your fans,” he grumbles, turning away.

  “What was that?” AJ calls after him.

  “Nothin’! Have a good time!”

  “Ignore him,” I say. “Let’s go have some fun!

  Beat-up trucks sit on the cracked asphalt in front of the only bar in town. During the day, The Wander Inn is a hole in the wall that serves greasy burgers and day old french fries, but at night, it comes alive. Right now, only a handful of people are milling about, but once the band comes on, the joint will be bursting at the seams. This was my stomping ground. My home away from home. I wasn’t old enough to be in here, but when you’re Brewster County’s sweetheart, people tend to turn a few blind eyes. I owned this place. In the metaphorical way, of course.

  The smell of cigarettes and stale beer greets us at the door as we step inside. It’s been seven years, but the place hasn’t changed a bit. A burned out Miller Light sign struggles to stay lit, blinking randomly over the old jukebox that I know for a fact is busting a gut with old Kenny Rogers’s songs. A circular bar sits in the center, surrounded by a few scattered tables, a small dance floor, and a platform stage in the corner.

  AJ pulls out my stool and waits while I sit. “Watch this.” The bartender, a man with a handlebar mustache and gray sideburns, doesn’t even look up. Just throws down two bar napkins and asks us what we want.

  “We’ll take a Bud and the biggest margarita you got,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips.

  Crystal blue eyes snap to meet mine. Ray’s aged quite a bit since I’ve seen him last. His ear-to-ear grin is a little less white and his face a little more worn, but deep inside that warm, inviting gaze is the same old Ray who used to sneak me Cokes and chicken fingers under the table on those rare occasions when I was left in Loretta’s care. “Casey Jane? Shit! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Get over here and give your Uncle Ray a hug!”

  The smells of peppermint Skoal and Old Spice tingle in my nostrils as he reaches across the bar, grabbing me up in his thick arms. Yet another time machine scent sending me back. “Whatcha doin’ down here in these parts?”

  “Takin’ a break from grass and hay.” I smile up at AJ, who looks about as comfortable as a raccoon after sunrise. “My friend, AJ, here has never been to Texas. Thought I’d bring him down and show him off,” I say with a wink.

  AJ greets Ray with a, “Hey, man,” and a hearty handshake, his voice just slightly deepened. He’s still on edge from having to deal with Austin and playing Alpha Dog for the moment. As if he has anything to worry about. Ray’s been kind of like a dad to me. At least, what I imagine a dad would be like. Not that I have any basis for comparison.

  “We gonna get you on the stage tonight, pretty lady?”

  Ray’s watery eyes glimmer from the swatch of light beaming in from the kitchen side of the bar. His guitar was the first one I ever picked up. He taught me my first chords, my first notes, while Mama sat in the corner with her man du jour. He told me, “Pretty voices are nothing if you can’t pluck the strings.”

  “Nah. I hung up my voice. Kissed it goodbye for greener pastures.” I press a kiss to my fingertips before adding, “Literally.”

  “That’s a shame, Casey Jane. You have an amazing talent to be wasted on them horses.” Ray makes quick work of preparing our drinks and sets them out on the bar for us. “On the house. Nice to meet you, AJ. You take care of my girl here.”

  As the night wears on, the crowd gets thicker, and the drinks go down smoother. I have a solid tequila buzz and a smile that makes my cheeks hurt. Old friends pour through the door. People I haven’t seen or heard from in years, yet still manage to pick up where we left off, like no time at all has passed. They welcome me back with open arms, laughter, and tears. I’m happy. More so than I can remember being in a very long time, and it’s not the booze, even though it helps. It’s this place. My home.

  “Holy shit! Casey Grainger!” The voice booms over the music playing on the jukebox. Before I even see where it comes from, I’m knocked off my feet in a bear hug. “When the hell did you get back?”

  “Ah hell, Renee! Look at you!” Bar lights glint off the star-shaped badge displayed proudly on her ample chest.

  Having grown up on the farm neighboring ours, Renee is my oldest friend. I’ve hardly a dirty-kneed childhood memory that doesn’t include her.

  “You’re a sheriff’s officer now? Didn’t we get hauled in for trespassing on private property; drunk and disorderly ... I don’t know ... a few dozen times at least?”

  “Yeah,” she says with a snort. “I’m off the clock now, though. My husband’s with the band. I married Earl Hinderman. You believe that shit? Who you here with?”

  I crane my neck and catch sight of the black Zildjian cap bobbing near the stage setup. Naturally, AJ gravitated toward the band. Why am I not surprised? “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  Grabbing Renee by her pudgy hand, I drag her through the ever-growing crowd of people. A guy I don’t know balances a banjo on his knee. His drawl’s so thick, he’s incoherent, but AJ stands politely listening to him talk about Lord only knows.

  “Havin’ fun?”

  AJ turns toward the sound of my voice and grasps my hips, pulling me closer. The man has this gift. A crazy habit of making the rest of the world disappear with the tiniest caress. Every touch sends sparks skittering along my skin and now is no different. A scorching burn courses up each side as his thumbs graze along the strip of exposed skin between my tank top and skirt.

  “Rusty was giving me a quick rundown on the history of bluegrass.”

  That smile. I haven’t seen it since our early days at The Wreck. The flirty, uns
ure of himself grin that sets my heart blazing now as much as it did then. Seeing it, feeling his sizzling touch, a pulsing pound begins to throb between my suddenly slick thighs.

  I take a step forward, but the sound of someone clearing their throat brings my head back where it belongs instead of in the clouds where it flew the second AJ put his hands on me. We’re not alone here.

  The old Casey Jane is emerging from the cocoon of misery that’s held me captive for the last handful of years. My wings are unfurling, and I finally feel like I could soar. I pull AJ’s head to my ear and take in the clean scent of cotton and the smoky smell of tobacco. “Say hello to my friend then excuse yourself through that door on the right.”

  He pulls back with a raised brow but doesn’t question my motives. Instead, he extends his hand toward Renee with a respectful smile as I make introductions.

  “Excuse me, ladies. I got to go hit the head.” His smoldering gray gaze flickers past me as he turns away from us and saunters off.

  “Damn, girl. You always had a thing for big, dumb animals. Cute, though. Does he know that’s not the bathroom?” Renee asks.

  “He’s had a bit to drink. I’ll be back.”

  I turn away from my friend, following AJ’s path through the door clearly marked Storage on the front. A pull string swings back and forth from the naked bulb hanging above our heads. Extra tables and stacked chairs line each wall. In the corner, a broken down mechanical bull sits among its various pieces waiting for Rodeo Night to be set up for the ride.

  AJ leans against its frame, his knuckles resting on the saddle, and his long legs crossed at the ankles. “Challengin’ me to another ride?” I ask.

  Without warning, my feet leave the ground, and my ass hits the bull sidesaddle. “My riding days are over, cowgirl. But yours have just begun.”

  Our lips crash together. The taste of beer and whiskey playing on his tongue teases me as it tangles and twists with mine. We’re sloppy. Unbridled. The room spins around us in a drunken haze of booze and lust. Outside the door, the crowd of people gets thicker by the moment. Anyone could come in, but the danger of that risk fuels the naughty need already beginning to gnaw at me.