“Sara,” she sobbed.
“What’s going on? You sound terrible. Have you been crying?”
Sam nodded even though her sister couldn’t see her. “JR… he…” her voice cracked and she had to swallow several times in a row before she could continue. “Something’s happened. I don’t know what, but he won’t even talk to me. It’s over between us.”
“Oh, Sam.” The line was silent for a moment. “I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry. He’s an idiot.”
“Yesterday was so perfect. We went sightseeing. I met his mother and then we went dancing. Everything was fine. I had hoped...”
“Do I need to come get you?”
“No. I’m a big girl.” Sam forced her tone to be even. “I can take care of myself. I’ll call Harbour Air and get on standby for an earlier flight.”
“Good. I’m almost back in Vancouver myself. I’ll meet you at the terminal. Call me before you take off.”
“Wait a minute, Sara. I thought you were going out to Whistler with Chris.”
“I did, but things didn’t work out.” Sara’s tone was as even as the one Sam had employed. “Guys suck. I love you Samantha Anne. I’ll see you soon.”
Too much idle time, Sara thought as she waited for Sam in the Harbour Air lounge. Her fingers drummed restlessly on the chrome armrest. Pulling off her gloves, her mind wandered back to earlier that morning.
She’d awakened in Chris’ arms, her back nestled against his warmth. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so soundly or felt so safe.
Easing out of his embrace, she rose slowly being careful not to jostle the bed. She watched him as he slept, admiring his rugged good looks. Age had only added depth and dimension to an already appealing face.
Sara noticed the corner of his mouth was curved up as if something had amused him. She smiled wistfully. Even in his sleep, he had that irresistible sardonic thing going on. The man appealed to her on so many levels. She smirked. If he woke up and caught her staring, he would never let her live it down.
She’d remembered how tenderly he had stroked her hair until she’d fallen asleep. How he’d refused to take advantage of her weakness. No man had ever treated her with such respect. Like what was inside of her mattered most. He was a riddle that she couldn’t seem to solve.
Chris Alex, the sneaky bastard, was trying to thaw his way into her cold dead heart. But she couldn’t let him. He didn’t realize what he would find when he got inside. Her genes were defective, the union of a harlot and a killer. No wonder she had made such a mess of her life.
And now that killer, her father, was up for parole again. Twice he’d been denied, but this time it looked like it might be different. Leann’s update the other night indicated that the lawyers were worried. So was she. Thus the return of the nightmares.
She glanced down one last time at Chris’ sleeping form while she quietly dressed. He made her wish for things that could never be. She was strongly tempted to climb back into bed with him, to tell him everything, to let him take care of her. She shook her head to clear it from that kind of thinking. She couldn’t undo all the horrible choices she’d made before now, but for once in her life she was going to make the right one. And that was to leave. Chris deserved better than her, someone who wasn’t broken.
There. Her brain had won the tug of war with her heart.
Taking a deep breath, Sara moved quickly around the suite, gathering the few things she’d taken out and stuffing them back into her roller bag. Tears pricking her eyes, she softly closed the door and moved down the hall to the elevator.
Sara had given up trying to sort through the tangled mess by the time she heard her sister’s flight number called. Heading outside to the gate, she waited for Sam to disembark. When she saw her cross the dock, Sara’s brow creased. The breakup had exacted a heavy toll that was evident in the way Sam carried herself. No easy smile. No spring in her step. No sparkle in her eyes.
“Hey Munchkin,” Sara said, embracing her. “How are you holding up?”
“Sara,” she rasped, clinging to her sister for a long moment. “Can we please just get out of here?”
“You bet. I’ve got a taxi waiting at the curb.”
Back at the hotel, Sara sent Sam ahead to the room with orders to take a hot bath. Meanwhile, she went next door to the supermarket and picked up a couple of cartons of high calorie, low nutritional value therapy. Desperate times called for desperate measures, she mused. When she returned, she called out, “I’m back. I’ve got triple chocolate chip.”
A cloud of steam escaped from the bathroom as Sam shuffled out in a robe and slippers, her hair up in a towel. She flopped on the sofa and flicked on the television. “Duck Dynasty?”
“Absolutely. Who needs men, right?”
By the time they’d finished the ice cream and a couple of episodes of their favorite reality program, Sam’s eyes had drifted shut. Sara got up and threw away the empty cartons. Kneeling beside the sofa, she squeezed her sister’s hand. Sam opened her eyes, giving her a sleepy stare.
“I’ve gotta go if I’m gonna make my flight,” Sara said, stroking her hair. “Are you sure you’re going to be ok? I can wait for the eight thirty one in the morning.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sam assured her. “That would be cutting it too close. You won’t have time to rehearse before the show.”
Sara gave her a measured stare. “Are you sure, Munchkin?”
“Yes. Git,” she ordered, managing a wan smile. “And tell Cash hi for me.”
Sam didn’t realize that she had drifted back off until the banging on the hotel door jarred her rudely from sleep.
“Sara! Open this door!”
Bother. It was Chris.
“Where is she?” he demanded, barging into the apartment, visibly irritated. Sam had never seen him so frazzled. He looked like he’d just gotten out of bed, sporting a half day’s scruff and his normally perfect coif a chaotic tangle.
“She’s gone,” Sam informed him, glancing at her watch. “You missed her by over two hours.”
“Gone where?” he asked, clearly deflated.
“Back to Texas. She has a concert with Cash Beaumont at Billy Bob’s tomorrow. She didn’t tell you?”
“No, she didn’t.” Chris flopped down in the chair, running his hands wearily across his face. “That’s the thing about your sister. I can’t get closer than arm’s length with her.”
That’s Sara, alright, she thought. “I understand things aren’t working out between you two.”
“Is that all she told you?” he asked with a frustrated sigh.
Sam nodded.
“There’s a little more to it than that.” Chris proceeded to bring her up to speed with an edited for content account of the weekend. “I really care about her,” he confided. “But it’s really wearing me out trying to figure out what’s going on here.”
Sam sat silent and still for a long time before she spoke again. “She hasn’t had those nightmares for years,” she finally admitted. Sara would probably be furious with her, but she had taken Chris’ measure and knew he was good for her sister. She didn’t want to see Sara squander this chance at real happiness. At least one of them should have a happily ever after. “Our parents always had a rocky relationship,” she began. “Papa worked on an oil platform in the Gulf, so he was away from home a lot. And Momma…well, I guess she got lonely.” She sighed. “I don’t remember much about the night it happened.”
She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “Papa came home earlier than Momma expected. He caught her in bed with another man. Apparently, the guy got out the window, but Papa went back to his truck for his shotgun. Their arguing must have woken us up, because Sara was there in the bedroom when he shot Momma.”
“Holy shit!” Chris exclaimed.
“Yeah, I know. It sounds like a country song, doesn’t it?” she quipped grimly. “Momma’s last words to Sara were to take care of me,” she said, tears brimming. “She died
before the ambulance arrived. They sent Papa to the state penitentiary.” She wiped her eyes. “So you see it’s a nightmare that neither of us can ever really escape, especially Sara.”
Chris put his arms around her. “I’m gonna help her try,” he said resolutely.
Full of nervous anticipation, Fred Baron paced up and down the length of the large conference room at Sutton Place. Minutes ahead of the press conference, he surveyed the eager faces of his assembled fan club officers. “Ok, listen up, guys and…gal.” He smiled apologetically at his one female officer, Maggi Myer. “I have to warn you these things can get real crazy. I know from personal experience. So be on your guard. As representatives for the Official, Official Brutal Strength Fan Club, here’s what you need to remember. Number 1: Our mission statement. Enhance the appreciation of Brutal Strength. Number 2: Win over the non-believers with kindness not condemnation, and lastly, Number 3: We are enthusiastic aficionados of the band… not stalkers. I want all of you to be on your best, most professional behavior.”
He gave Gary Turner a stern look. “GT, keep your shirt on this time. We had complaints about the body paint at the last one.”
Gary laughed, agreeing to keep the paint confined to his face.
“People, I talked to Mary Timmons just this morning. She thanked us for our support and graciously allowed for each of us to ask one question after the press is done. The band has also very kindly agreed to sign some memorabilia for us to auction off for charity on our website.”
Fred glanced at his clipboard. As the president of BS’s Fan Club, he didn’t want to leave even one little detail to chance. A product of his day job as a librarian, Fred liked things neat and orderly. “Oh and one more thing, I assume you’ve all seen the latest TMZ pictures of JR and Samantha Daniels.” He motioned toward the young intern setting out press packets in the seats at the front of the room. “Let the press be the ones to put them on the spot, ok?”
“Sure boss,” Gary spoke up. “But can I ask Avery if Marcus ever has her dress up like a guy for old time’s sake?” He chuckled at his own joke.
The others laughed nervously, but Fred didn’t find the comment amusing in the least. Drawing himself up to his full height, he stared Gary down. “Absolutely not. You do that and I’ll personally revoke your lifetime membership.” Fred poked his finger in Gary’s chest. “Are we clear?”
“Yes, boss.” Gary head hung down.
Fred sighed. He never should have let a teenager be an officer. The power always went to their heads.
Sam had just put down the last packet when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she found herself looking into silvery green eyes that were filled with concern.
“Sara called and told me about you and JR,” Beth said, squeezing her hand. “Are you sure you’re ok to be here?”
“Sure, of course I am.” Sam had to bite her lip to keep from tearing up. Did everyone have to know her business? She gulped over the lump in her throat.
“I don’t know,” she replied skeptically.
“Really, I’m fine,” she said, straightening her shoulders and trying harder to appear convincing. “I’ve got this. Thanks, I…” She trailed off following the path of Beth’s gaze and immediately wishing she hadn’t.
JR had arrived, casual and sexy in a black button-down and Diesels, his hair stylishly messy. Her lungs suddenly felt like they were devoid of air. She hated how badly she missed him after only one day. He, however, seemed completely nonchalant without her. And he wasn’t alone. The stunning statuesque blond on his arm looked vaguely familiar.
Great, Sam thought, recognizing her. It was Cynthia Didier. He’d replaced her in less than twenty-four hours with a bleeping Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, no less. Sam felt like someone had plunged a sharp knife into her gut. Her previous resolve bled away. Hot tears welled in her eyes. It certainly hadn’t taken him any time to move on.
“Go,” Beth said, taking one look at her. “Get yourself together. We only have a few minutes before we start and I want you sitting beside me,” she pointed at a reserved chair on the front row, “when you come back.”
Sam ducked her head and scurried away.
JR’s eyes followed Sam as she left the room.
“JR,” Cynthia said. “That hurts.”
He loosened his grip on Cynthia’s hand as anger seethed beneath the surface. Seeing the wounded expression on Sam’s face had bothered him more than he cared to admit. It was probably just an act. The bitch had slept with Danny. She deserved any pain she felt.
“How long’s this gonna take?” Cynthia whined again in his ear. “You promised to take me out to lunch with V. I really want her to hear my music.”
“I know. I got it.” JR let go of her hand. “Just sit down over there. This won’t take long.”
JR reached into his jeans pocket and took out a flask. The alcohol burned his throat as it went down. He needed to be numb. He stumbled into his seat, watching cynically as Dwight kissed his pregnant wife on the cheek. He snorted. Dwight gave him a brief glance and shook his head before pulling out a chair.
Mary stepped up behind the center mic. She quieted the crowd with her I’m-in-charge royal stare. That lasted until Marcus and Avery arrived on stage. The place went wild as the two moved down to take their seats on the other side of Mary. Every reporter started shouting out questions at the same time.
“Marcus and Avery,” Mary said into the mic, tilting her head in their direction and waiting for the room to quiet down. “Glad you could join us.” She turned back to the audience. “Ok, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get down to business. You’ve all got your press packets. Love Evolution is Brutal Strength’s fifth album. It’s available for purchase starting today. And for the next seven days each CD purchased also comes with a free bonus video of ‘Brothers.’”
“When’s the wedding?” someone shouted out.
“Jared.” Mary glared at the disruptive heckler. “If you’d bothered to open up your packet you would have noticed that we’re taking questions in numerical order.” Beth’s idea. Genius considering the number of media present. She looked over the throng. “So,” she paused and waited amidst all the rustling of paper, “who’s first?”
“That would be yours truly,” Jared said, jumping up and waving a piece of paper in the air.
“Alright.” Mary sighed and made eye contact with Samantha.
Sam rose to her feet and brought the cordless mic over to him.
Smirking, Jared took it from her. “Jared Kinzler from Guitar World. So Marcus, it’s been weeks since you and the world found out that Avery Jones isn’t a guy. You two have been essentially unavailable for questioning. We know about the proposal at the Commodore. Everyone’s wondering…when’s the wedding?”
Marcus’ blue eyes sparkled, and he brought Avery’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Her long lashes fluttered down over her emerald eyes and her cheeks bloomed with color. The room lit up with flashes as every photographer tried to capture the moment. Marcus leaned sideways in his chair and whispered something in Avery’s ear that made her blush deepen. Turning back to the audience, Marcus leaned back into the mic. “Soon,” he replied. “Next.”
“Ashley Fergus from Fox News,” a beautiful brunette stood as Sam made her way over. “And this question is also for Marcus. What’d you just say to Avery?”
“I said,” Marcus ran his hands through his shoulder length dark hair, and his lips curved into a half smile, “not soon enough.” A roar of laughter filled the room and Marcus pulled Avery into his lap and kissed her neck.
“Ok, ok,” Mary said, taking charge again and giving Marcus a pointed stare. “Save it for the honeymoon, Romeo.” Glancing back at the audience, she said, “Listen guys let’s try to limit the personal questions. The band has a new album out and a tour coming up. Let’s stay on those topics.”
“Alright, Mary.” Carter Besille stood smoothing back his blond hair. He walked over and took the mic from Sam’s hand. �
��Just one more though. This one’s for JR. My viewers want to know about you and Samantha Daniels.” He glanced at Sam. “You’ve been pretty tight recently. What’s so special about her?”
Sam took a step back. Her heart hammered and her eyes flew up to JR’s face. She held her breath, wondering what he would say. Staring back at her, he looked like a volcano about to erupt. She saw something cruel flash in his green eyes.
“I don’t know what you mean, Carter.” JR leaned into the microphone. “She’s no different than any other groupie. She’ll spread her legs for anyone.”
Sam gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth. The room fell into an appalled silence. Everyone turned to stare at her. Her face blanched and her vision filled with spots. Pushing past Carter Besille, she ran from the room.
The sprawling DFW metroplex reminded Chris of southern California, minus the ocean and the palm trees of course. Both sides of the huge six lane freeway were covered with large strip malls. Concrete and buildings dominated the landscape as far as the eye could see.
The scenery gradually changed as he escaped the confines of the city, becoming more like what he imagined Texas would be. The clutter of civilization gave way to wide open spaces, rolling hills, and endless miles of barbed wire fences enclosing horses and cattle.
As his rental car meandered through the countryside, he considered how much the winding road reminded him of his life. Full of long, lonely stretches and unpredictable twists and turns. But now he had a clear goal in sight.
After nearly two hours of driving, he arrived at the Graham city limits sign, population 8,903. He smiled finding it hard to imagine Sara with her larger than life personality living in such a small town. Soon the GPS chimed in, “You have arrived at your destination on the left.” He followed the prompt, turning onto a dirt road. A couple of horses inclined their heads in his direction to watch as he passed. At the end of the drive, he spotted a one story farm house among a copse of oak trees. He parked the car and stepped out, breathing in the crisp fall country air. The house was small, maybe two or three bedrooms, but charming, painted white with red gingerbread trim and shutters. Maroon and yellow pansies filled the well-tended front flower beds, and there was a welcoming wreath on the front door.
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