For the Love of a Lush (Lush No. 2)

by Selena Laurence

  "What about the tour? Jenny’s plans? You aren’t going to bail on her, are you?"

  She huffs out a breath. "No. Of course not. I’ll be in and out of Austin and Dallas all summer, but I won’t be back here, and I won’t be bothering you again."

  Shit. "You’re not bothering me, Tammy—"

  "You can barely look at me, Walsh!" she exclaims as she stands and faces me. Her arms are crossed tightly around her middle as if she can hold herself together by sheer force. "You spent the night with me and then went out and got drunk."

  There is so much anguish in her voice I take a step back, physically pushed by the impact of her emotions.

  "You said you loved me then left me standing alone at that diner. You made me come in a parking lot and then told me to leave town. You punched a man who touched me then referred to me as ‘an old habit.’ You’re either so hot you’re going to incinerate us both or so cold I’m risking frostbite. I can’t take it anymore. This was a mistake. One. Big. Mistake. I’ve fought too hard to get well after what happened last summer. I can’t keep doing this and lose myself again."

  She presses her hand over her mouth. To stop herself? To control herself? I’m not sure. I hear her gasp even with the barrier she’s erected, and I can see her struggling to regain her composure. I’m gutted. Utterly and completely gutted. She’s right—I know she is—but I can’t control it. One minute, I want her so hard I’m blinded by the haze of lust. The next, I can’t breathe unless I get as far from her as possible. I am hot and cold, confused and sick, and I don’t fucking know how to make it better.

  "Tammy, please." I reach for her.

  "No!" she says sharply. "Don’t touch me. Please," she warns more softly.

  I drop my hand back to my side. "I’m not sure what to say. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you." My voice is so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

  She nods. "I know. That’s not who you are—you’re not hurtful. But you were right when I first got to town. We’ve damaged each other too much. It’s not healthy, and we have to stop." She pauses and takes a deep breath. "I’ll call the attorneys in the morning and have them draw up paperwork to return your money."

  "Tammy, no, that was for—"

  "For what? For sleeping with you for all those years? For loving you since I was a child? For cheating on you? Nearly losing my sanity over you? Walsh. It’s your money. I’m going to ask them to use the same calculation they did for all the other Lush employees’ severance packages, and I’ll keep that amount, not a penny more. Do you want me to put the house up for sale?"

  "The house is yours," I growl, furious that she would return the one thing I want her to have more than anything else. There’s something about picturing her there, about knowing that she’s sleeping under a roof I provided. I need for her to be in that house.

  She sighs again. "The house, like the money, is yours, Walsh. I’ll move out in three weeks when the tour starts. Do with it what you will."

  With that, she takes a small step to the side. I’m blocking her from getting to the front door, and it occurs to me in that moment, as I look in her eyes, which are filled with so much pain, that I could stop this—stop her. I could tell her how much I still love her. I could say that I don’t want her to go. I could promise to be what she needs. But I don’t. Instead, I step back and let her walk out of my life.

  Tammy

  FOR MOST of my life, I’ve been one thing—Walsh Clark’s woman. I saw a tall, handsome boy when I was fourteen years old and knew I was his and he was mine. But love is more complicated than knowing. More complicated than wanting. Sometimes love, even in its purest, most vital form, still isn’t enough to overcome the circumstances of our lives, our psyches, the emotional detritus that floats all around us every day.

  As I sit in the aisle seat of a plane out of Dallas-Fort Worth International airport, my sister at my side, I realize that Walsh and I never stood a chance. A fourteen-year-old girl can’t possibly pick the guy she’s going to spend the rest of her life with. She can’t predict who that boy will become, what he will do, where he will go. And more than that, she can’t know herself—her future needs and wants, her future actions, both good and bad. All I wanted when I was fourteen was to be Walsh Clark’s girl. But now, at twice that age, I know I want something else as well. To be healthy. And if the two things are contradictory, then being Walsh’s girl will have to go.

  Anyone who’s ever been seriously sick, whether it be physically or mentally, can tell you that it’s a place you never want to visit again. When I was fourteen and twenty-one and twenty-five, I had no idea what it felt like to be ill. To have your body and your mind let you down in such an all-encompassing way that you feel like you’re under attack night and day, stalked by an invisible force bent on taking parts of you away one at a time. After having a nervous breakdown, I will never take my health for granted again. Having that panic attack at the ranch was my warning. It was the sign that the road I was on led back to a place where I couldn’t trust anything—not my thoughts, my feelings, my judgment. A place where I might do or say something that harmed myself or others. Where my body couldn’t be relied on to do the most basic things, like eat and sleep. There is no way in hell I’m going back there.

  So I’m on a plane to Portland. I talked to Jenny on the phone this morning, assuring her that I’ll be back a week before her first show. We’ll meet up in Dallas and I’ll get a rehearsal space for her and Mike and whoever else we grab to be backup. I know a few guys around Portland who might be willing to fill in at some of the shows. Jenny said that Mike told her Walsh is talking about playing drums with them. I can’t think of an idea that is less appealing to me, but I’ll adjust. I have to harden my heart to him. I have to condition my mind to the fact that he isn’t mine anymore. And I’m not his.

  I have three weeks to work out sets with Mike and Jenny via Skype, help my sister plan her wedding to Joss, and pack up my life. I think I’m going to rent an apartment in Austin for the summer. Then we’ll see where I go after that. The money I’ll get as severance pay from Lush will last me a year or more if I’m careful, and hopefully by then, Jenny will be earning something. Maybe I’ll get a couple of other clients too. Dave might have some overflow he can send my way. Artists he likes but doesn’t have time to represent.

  "Are you doing okay?" Mel asks as she puts her hand on my arm.

  I turn and give her a weak smile. "I will be," I say honestly. "You need to make sure to thank Joss for giving you up for a couple of days to come home with me."

  "It’s fine," she answers, reaching into the seatback pocket to pull out the in-flight magazine. "He needs to be with the guys, and that’s easier to do without me tagging along."

  "Maybe, but I know he doesn’t ever want to be away from you, not even for a couple of days."

  She blushes and smiles. "I don’t know how that ever happened."

  "I do," I tell her as I smooth a hand over her hair. "You’re fantastic. I’ve always told you so. You’re beautiful and smart, and deserve the best of everything, always. Joss is the lucky one. Don’t ever forget that."

  She laughs. "That’s what he says too."

  "He’s a smart guy. Lush became Lush because Joss is a smart guy."

  She looks serious. "Are you really going to be okay, Tam? I mean, there’s no way you and Walsh can work it out? I wasn’t in favor of you coming down here, but that’s only because I wasn’t sure you were ready, not because I ever doubted that you and Walsh would end up together. I’m embarrassed to say this, but I feel like a kid whose parents are divorcing. You and Walsh have been a given in my life. A constant. I sort of don’t know how the world’s supposed to work if you’re not with Walsh."

  I give her the best smile I can muster. I know it’s not much. "When you figure it out, let me know, will you?" I close my eyes and end the conversation.

  My dreams on the airplane ride home are filled with images of a man who is wound so tight around my soul that I’m not sure
I’ll ever be me again.

  Walsh

  BY THE time I meet the guys for breakfast on Monday morning, Tammy has left town. For good this time. She packed up and checked out of Mrs. Stallworth’s while I was at a meeting in Dallas. I came home to find Mrs. S. in a snit, blaming me for Tammy’s departure. I didn’t even try to deny that it was my fault, and now I’ll be working to get back on Mrs. S.’s good side for the next month.

  I have been on such a monumental emotional roller coaster for the last few weeks that I seem to have lost the ability to feel much of anything. The love of my life has told me that she can’t be with me again, and I’m numb. From head to toe. Except for one small spot, right in the center of my chest, and at that point, there is an ache so intense that I find myself rubbing at it unconsciously. I’m scared of it. I sense that it might have grown since yesterday, and it makes me want a drink. So I’ll go to another meeting today, I’ll work my ass off in the heat and the dirt at the ranch, and I’ll pray to God that the ache goes away soon.

  But before I do anything else this morning, Joss and I meet Colin and Mike at the downtown diner for breakfast. The four of us slide into a back booth, but not before attracting a fair amount of attention. It’s one thing to see Mike or me wandering around town in our dusty boots and jeans, but it’s another to see the entire band complete with tattoos, long hair, and the very recognizable Joss Jamison parading through the local breakfast joint.

  "It appears you’ve brought us recognition," I say to Joss out of the corner of my lips as the waitress pouring our water shakes and nervously stammers her way through the daily specials.

  Joss sighs and gives the girl a tight smile before she scurries away. "Sorry about that. It’s not as bad as it was a year ago, but it’s still a problem. Mel goes to the grocery store without me because she says she can’t stand having people examine what she’s buying when they see me with her. It’s like she thinks she owes an explanation to a total stranger for why she’s getting Twinkies or something."

  "Dude, didn’t they quit making Twinkies?" Colin interjects as he reaches for the pot of coffee and starts pouring cups for everyone.

  Joss shakes his head, and Mike laughs.

  The waitress comes back with O.J. and takes our orders. Her eyes get as big as saucers when Mike tells her that we’ll have four of the grande cowboy platters along with a basket of biscuits, another pot of coffee, four sides of sausage, and another round of O.J. Mike always orders our breakfasts. The rest of us never even look at the menu. He hasn’t steered us wrong yet.

  Once the waitress leaves, Joss leans forward, elbows on the table. "What’s this I hear about you two"—he points at Mike and me—"going out on tour with some country singer this summer?"

  "It’s all true, man," Mike says. "Jenny lives here in town and she’s going to fucking take the country crossover scene by storm."

  Joss raises an eyebrow and looks at me.

  "He’s for real. The girl’s mega talented. Tammy’s gotten her a full schedule of clubs all over Dallas and Austin. Mike and I will play backup and they’re choosing her sets. In the fall, he’s going to produce an album for her."

  Joss’s brows climb into his hairline as he turns to Mike. "Really? You’re going to produce? Does she write too?"

  Mike looks uncomfortable for a brief moment. Then his chin juts out and the defiance takes over. "I write," he states emphatically. "She’s doing some lyrics, and together, we’re going to put out a kick-ass album."

  Joss gives him a warm smile. "I don’t doubt it for a second, bro. Can’t wait to pick up my copy."

  Mike visibly relaxes, and we’ve narrowly avoided one landmine in the first five minutes. It could turn out to be a very long breakfast.

  Colin fiddles with his coffee cup then says offhandedly, "So, you, uh, looking for a bass player?"

  "Really?" Mike asks, leaning back in his seat to get a better look at Colin.

  "Maybe. I mean I don’t have any big plans. A couple of charity things for animal rights groups, but that’s all."

  I don’t say anything, knowing that this is Mike’s show, but I’d love to have Colin with us. It feels good to be back with everyone. I’m not ready for the kind of all-day-every-day together we had before, but a low-key tour, one or two shows a week for the summer, might be just right.

  "Dude." Mike reaches over and throws his arm around Colin’s neck. "I’d love to have you along. Fucking rocks." He grins.

  I look at Joss, wondering what he thinks of all this. He’s got a genuine smile on his face.

  "You okay with all this, Joss? I mean, the three of us and a new singer?" I ask bluntly.

  "You know what, man? I’ve got some shows of my own this summer, and mostly I’m going to be hanging out with my girl while she finishes her degree and plans our wedding. I’d love to come see you guys play if that’d be okay. I think it’s great."

  "Sweet." Colin smiles.

  "Oh man!" Mike exclaims suddenly, looking hard at Colin. "I know why you want to stay in Texas, you dick."

  "What?" Colin snaps back at him a little too quickly.

  Joss and I give each other questioning looks.

  "Marsha." Mike answers.

  "Wait—Marsha?" I ask. "Marsha at The Bronco?"

  Colin is actually blushing. Joss smirks as he takes a sip of coffee.

  "Yeah." Mike leans forward like he’s sharing a conspiracy. "Get this. I take our boy to The Bronco the other night, and when Marsha walks up to get our order, she takes one look at Colin and turns white as a sheet, nearly faints right there in the bar."

  "She did not," Colin mumbles with a pout.

  "And young Colin starts stammering around like a middle schooler with a girl he’s got a crush on. Turns out, Colin and Marsha already knew each other."

  "No shit?" I’m completely intrigued now. "How the hell is that possible?"

  "We went to high school together back in Oklahoma," Colin tells us.

  "Did you know she lived here?" Joss asks.

  "Hell no," Colin bites out.

  I’m getting the impression that they more than just “knew” each other in high school.

  "So before you came to Portland senior year? Isn’t she older than us?" I ask.

  "Yeah, just a year. I was a junior and she was a senior. It’s no big deal, man, and it’s definitely not the reason I want to do the tour. I just thought it’d be cool to get out there on the road again. Some days I miss it, you know?"

  We all understand what he’s saying, and before long, we’ve started playing "remember when." For a group of guys who’ve spent the majority of their lives together, it’s a game that can go on for a long time.

  After an hour, Mike and I have to admit that it’s time to go to work. Joss is heading to the airport to go home to Mel, and Colin is going to move his stuff over to the boarding house since it looks like he’s staying for the time being. He’ll take the other bedroom in the basement. Poor Mrs. S. will rue the day she let any of the Lush crew rent her rooms.

  Mike and Colin hop in Mike’s truck to head back to the ranch, and I walk with Joss to his rental car.

  "So I guess the next time I see you might be when you’re getting hitched, huh?" I ask as I scuff at the pavement with the toe of my boot. This is awkwardness supreme. It’s still hard to be alone with Joss, but at the same time, I’m cut up that he’s leaving.

  "I meant it when I said I’d like to come out this summer, catch one of your shows. The wedding’s not until September, so let’s get together before then?"

  I nod. "Okay. That sounds good."

  Joss stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks around for a moment. "There’re a couple of other things before I go."

  "Okay…" I’m immediately on alert.

  "The wedding. Well, if I were a chick and had been planning my wedding for years, I’d have planned it with you as best man. But I don’t want to put you on the spot with a request like that, and something we haven’t had a chance to get to is that I’ve been
back in touch with my dad."

  I’m shocked. Joss’s dad had left even before I met Joss. He almost never talked about him and barely remembered him. I know the dude showed up when we were on tour last summer in Denver, but Joss said that he’d sent him on his way. Figured he was only after money or something.

  "No shit? Your old man? Is that a good idea?" I can’t help it. I still care about him. I don’t want to see him get used by some dick who only ever donated DNA to him.

  "Yeah. It’s all been good. Really good. He’s never once asked me for money, and I stayed with him in Denver for a few months this winter before I went back to Portland to see Mel. We’ve worked on some shit. I’ve worked on some shit. He’s a good guy. He’s been there for me now—even if he wasn’t when I was a kid. I think he’s a better friend than he is a father."

  I nod, indicating that I see what he’s saying.

  "He’s going to be my best man, and he’s really excited about it. But you’re the best man in my heart, Walsh. You always will be, and I’d be honored if you and Colin would be groomsmen. And I’m hoping Mike will play all of our music. I don’t think I could trust anyone else but him to do it."

  I feel something inside me break free, come loose. Something that feels like it’s been tethering me for months, not securing me, but holding me back. Keeping me down. I feel that release, and for just a moment, I relish it, realizing how much weight I’m under day in and day out.

  I smile at him, feeling like a dumb-ass girl because I’m so mushy inside. "I’d like that. I’d really like that. Even if I do have to wear a fucking suit."

  His face lights up. "That’s great. Goddamn, Mel is going to be so fucking happy. Thanks, dude. You just made my whole summer."

  "Tell Mel no pink bow ties and crap. In fact, I think I should demand veto power over the groomsmen clothes. I want that as a rider in my contract."