Take Me Home

by Elks, Carrie

  “She thinks she knows best.”

  “Because of what happened when you were in Ansell?” Laura lowered her voice, her eyes glancing around.

  “Ashleigh saved me that day,” Maddie said softly. “When I called her she dropped everything. Drove all the way to New York by herself and raised hell with the administration. And when I begged her to take me home, she packed everything up while I cried my heart out, before driving for hours through the night. I owe her.”

  “You owe her nothing. You’re always there for her. How often do you babysit your niece and nephew?” Laura asked her. “And then there’s your mom. Ashleigh never does anything apart from visit every so often. You’re the one who takes her to the doctor, who makes sure she’s in bed safely every night. Hell, you bring her here every Friday and I know how much you hate it.”

  “I get to see you.” Maddie smiled.

  “Yeah, that’s the only saving grace of Chairs.” Laura grinned back. “I get to talk to you without Murphy shouting at us.” Her face turned serious. “You’re not going to do what she asks, are you?”

  “My mom wants me to,” Maddie admitted.

  “Your mom?” Laura frowned. “What’s she got to do with it?”

  “She heard us arguing. She was so upset when Ashleigh slammed her way out of the house without saying goodbye. I got a lecture about how we’re sisters and we should always take care of each other.” Maddie sighed. “Maybe she’s right.”

  “You’d really stop seeing Gray Hartson because your sister’s throwing a fit over it?”

  The thought made Maddie’s chest contract. The attraction between them was crazy. Even now, sitting here surrounded by people, all she really wanted to do was talk about him, be with him.

  But that was crazy, too. Because then everybody would start talking about her, and she’d hate that.

  “I don’t think I can,” she said softly.

  “Good. Because I’d have had to push you in the water if you did. I know you, Maddie. Not as well as Ashleigh, maybe, but well enough. If you like this guy, then you should go for it. You’d regret it if you didn’t.”

  “And if he hurts me?” Maddie asked, the tightness in her chest not feeling any better. “What then?”

  “Then you’ll deal with it the way you deal with everything. You’re not a naïve kid anymore. You’ve grown since returning from New York.” Laura tipped her head, the dying sun catching the red in her curls. “You’re a strong, intelligent, kick ass woman who doesn’t let people walk all over her. And if Gray hurts you the way you’ve been hurt before, I’m pretty sure you’ll rip his balls off.”

  “You’re pretty fierce,” Maddie said, grinning at Laura’s flashing eyes.

  “Well, thank you. If you need any help with the ripping part, I’m your girl.” She pulled her legs out of the water and shook her feet, tiny droplets flying through the air. “I’m going to grab some lemonade. You want some?”

  “Yeah,” Maddie agreed, a smile curling her lips. “I can’t think of anything better right now.”

  * * *

  The little Facebook icon on Maddie’s phone screen had been racking up all day. She rarely got notifications on Facebook – hardly any of her friends even used it anymore. And yet every time she checked her phone the little red number next to the icon was increasing. It was now up to twenty, and it was making her twitchy.

  It wasn’t until she got home from work that she finally brought herself to check it. And when she saw that every notification came from that damn Ansell Reunion Group she’d been invited to, Maddie sighed. She’d thought by not accepting it she wouldn’t be part of it anymore, but it seemed like Facebook had other ideas.

  There was a post in the group that was going crazy with replies. Maddie blinked as she read it, her mouth feeling as dry as the desert.

  Has anybody invited Brad Rickson? Or are we not going there? Somebody had posted. With a masochistic finger, Maddie clicked on the comments that followed.

  Hmm. Not sure whether we should invite him or not. Y’all remember what he did, right?

  Did you hear he has a record deal? Somebody told me he signed with Vista Records.

  Yep. According to a friend in the business, his debut album comes out next year.

  Why do good things happen to bad people?

  Talking of Brad, has anybody heard from Maddie Clark?

  Poor, Maddie. He was such an asshole. Has anybody heard from her?

  She’s in the member list, doofus. So be careful what you say.

  Guys, nobody is inviting Brad. And yes, I’ve invited Maddie. I’m closing the comments. Let’s concentrate on the reunion, okay?

  Maddie ignored the way her hands were shaking as she pressed the ‘decline invitation’ button, before closing down Facebook. For good measure, she uninstalled the app and threw her phone down on her bed.

  There was no way she was going to the reunion, Brad Rickson or no Brad Rickson.

  So why did it feel like somebody was stabbing her in the gut?

  * * *

  The circus arrived at ten o’clock on Monday morning. Okay, so there weren’t animals or clowns spilling out of the black sedans at the end of the driveway, but as Gray watched his manager, the journalist, a photographer, a makeup artist, and a hairdresser walk up the graveled path, it felt like his sleepy home town was being invaded.

  “Wow,” Becca breathed, as she stood next to him and stared out of the living room window. “They’ve come mob-handed.” She looked at him and grinned. “You will tell them about me beating you at Karaoke, right?”

  Gray raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure they’ll ask you some questions. You can spill the beans if you want.”

  She grinned. “I can?” Her eyes widened as she took in the huge cases the makeup artist and hairdresser were wheeling. “Do you think they’ll want to take a photo of me, too?”

  “I can ask them.” He smiled at her. “Not for the magazine, though. Just for you to keep.” The thought of exposing Becca to the world like that made him want to squirm.

  “Yay!” Becca clapped her hands. “Yes, please.”

  Ten minutes later and they were all clustered in Aunt Gina’s kitchen, drinking freshly-made iced tea. Even though the kitchen was large, it felt claustrophobic with so many strangers sitting around the table. Even still, Aunt Gina was doing her best to make them feel welcome.

  “Can I offer you some cake?” she asked them. All six shook their heads in horror, like she was trying to give them some kind of poison.

  “What about lunch?” she asked. “Will everybody want something to eat?”

  Marco shook his head. “We’ll probably take Gray around the town to shoot some photos. We can pick something up there. Do you have a juice bar?”

  “A juice bar?” Aunt Gina repeated, her brows pulled together.

  “We don’t have a juice bar,” Becca said, biting down a grin. “But we have a diner.”

  “We can head over to Stanhope for lunch,” Gray added hastily. “There are a few locations that way that should give us some good shots.”

  “What’s wrong with the diner?” Aunt Gina asked.

  “Yeah, you seem to spend a lot of time there,” Becca added, a wicked gleam in her eye.

  “You do?” Rick Charles, the lead writer for Rock Magazine scribbled something on the pad in front of him. “I’d like to check it out. A few photographs in there could work.”

  “I don’t spend a lot of time in there,” Gray told him. “I’m mostly in the summer house at the end of the backyard. That’s where I write my songs. You could take photographs there.”

  “Can I take a look?” Andie, the photographer asked. “I want to see which way the light is facing.”

  “Sure. It’s out there,” Gray pointed at the door.

  “I’ll come, too,” the make-up artist said. “I can work out what kind of products we’ll need.”

  “I can show you the way if you like,” Becca suggested, finishing the last of her tea. She
glanced at Gray for his approval, and he nodded. “It was like Gray’s second home growing up. He wanted to move his bedroom out there, but dad said no.”

  “Where is your father?” Rick asked, looking around the room. “He still lives here, right?”

  “He’s working in his room,” Aunt Gina said, refilling their glasses with iced tea. “He doesn’t really like fuss, so we thought it was for the best.”

  “I was hoping to meet him,” Rick told them, looking straight at Gray. “If I’m writing about your beginnings, he’s kind of where it all started.”

  Marco leaned forward. “I’m sure we can make that happen. Can’t we, Gray?”

  “He’s been sick,” Gray told them, his voice low. “I don’t want him disturbed.”

  “I’ve been around for all of Gray’s life,” Aunt Gina interjected, her voice unusually light. “I can answer the questions you have.”

  “Okay.” Rick’s tone made Gray feel uneasy. “We can start with that.” He grabbed his recorder from his bag and set it up on the table, before he turned his note pad over to a fresh page. “But if your dad feels any better later, be sure to introduce me to him.”

  * * *

  Maddie wiped the counter down and tidied up the menus, then glanced at her phone one more time to see if she had any messages.

  She hadn’t heard from Gray since his manager and journalist arrived in town yesterday. It was weird how strange it felt not to connect with him for more than twenty-four hours. She didn’t like it. Even worse, she didn’t like that she didn’t like it. Her happiness shouldn’t be dependent on a message or phone call.

  News of a journalist being in town had spread like wildfire, the way gossip always did in Hartson’s Creek. According to Laura, who heard it from Sonya Chilton – Jessica’s mother – the journalist had been asking questions about Gray all over town. He’d been into the church and grilled Reverend Maitland, had walked into the high school and spoken to Gray’s old music teacher. He’d even sat down on the bench in the town square for an hour, standing to talk to anybody who walked by.

  But he hadn’t been in the diner. Not yet.

  “According to Mrs. Chilton, he looks like a ‘Beatnik’,” Laura had told Maddie with a grin. “I asked her what that meant, and it turns out he wears jeans that hang below his underwear, which is some kind of a crime around here.”

  “I heard he has a t-shirt with Black Sabbath written on it,” Doris, one of their regulars, joined in, her voice rising up an octave. “And he wore it into church.”

  Her friend gasped. “I’m surprised Reverend Maitland didn’t throw him right out.”

  “Oh come on now. You know that Reverend Maitland is too kind to do that. But if I see him wearing that t-shirt I’d be happy to give him a piece of my mind.”

  “Black Sabbath is a rock band,” Laura said, her amused gaze meeting Maddie’s. “I don’t think he’s going around advertising he’s the devil’s disciple or anything.”

  “Ozzy Osborne was the lead singer,” Maddie added, though neither of the women next to Laura seemed to know what she was talking about.

  “Is he the one that bit the head off of a bat?” Laura asked, her voice light. There was a wicked glint in her eye.

  It was hard not to laugh at the older ladies’ expressions of distaste.

  “Yeah.” Maddie nodded. “And apparently he once gave hash cake to a priest.”

  “Hash cake?” Doris asked. “What’s that?”

  “It’s cake laced with marijuana,” Laura told her. “He drugged the priest.”

  “I hope that boy doesn’t drug Reverend Maitland,” Doris said, alarmed.

  Maddie grinned at the memory of the old ladies’ shock. It had been a moment of lightness in a hard day. Hard because her mom was still upset about Maddie and Ashleigh’s argument, and because Gray had been ominously silent while the journalist was in town.

  The bell above the door rang, and Maddie stopped clearing the counter and automatically reached for the menus. When she looked up, a man was walking toward the counter.

  As Laura had described, his jeans were baggy and hanging from his thin frame. His dark t-shirt didn’t have Black Sabbath emblazoned on it today, but instead there was a religious image of a dead man lying on an altar, with Joy Division printed across the top. She could tell from the faded gray of the fabric and the way it looked thin and crinkled that it was old, probably an original.

  She couldn’t help but think his clothing had been carefully chosen to cause a stir in the small town.

  “You can take a seat,” Maddie said to him, nodding at the booths. “I’ll bring a menu over. Would you like coffee?”

  “I’m okay at the counter.” He walked over and pulled out the stool closest to Maddie, sitting on it and leaning his arms on the countertop. “You’re Maddie Clark, right?”

  Her back straightened. “Yes,” she said carefully. “That’s right.”

  “I’m Rick Charles from Rock Magazine.” He offered her his hand and Maddie took it. “You might have heard that I’m in town doing an article on Gray Hartson.”

  “I might have.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “I figured word gets around fast here. Who needs the internet, right?”

  “People sure like to talk. Can I get you a coffee?”

  “That would be good.”

  She turned to the pot, taking a deep breath as she lifted it up and filled his mug. He was only interested in Gray. That’s why he was here. It was okay, it really was.

  “Cream and sugar?” she asked him, turning back, her face impassive.

  “No thanks. Black is good.” He took a deep sip then smiled at her again. “So I guess you know Gray as well as anybody around here, right?”

  “Not really.” She shook her head. “We’ve never been close.”

  “But you helped him escape from the church a few weeks ago, didn’t you? I heard you caused quite a scene jumping over fences and running through yards.”

  “I’d have done it for anybody. Nobody should be chased by teenage girls after church.”

  Maddie noticed Rick had pulled a notepad out from his pocket, before he lifted his hand to pull the pen from behind his ear. She felt like she was sitting on the stand of a courtroom, waiting to be questioned.

  “You’ve known him for a while, right?” He flipped his note pad, scanning through the scrawled words written there. “He dated your sister during high school. Ashleigh, is it?”

  “Yeah.” She managed a smile. “But it was a long time ago. She’s married with children now.”

  It felt strange, watching him write her own words down.

  “Do you know why they split up?”

  “Shouldn’t you ask Gray that?” she said lightly.

  “I have. But sisters are close and I’m guessing they confide in each other. I just wondered if she has the same reasons as Gray.”

  “I don’t think my sister would like me talking for her.”

  “Do you have a number that I can call her at directly?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think she’d like me giving that out either.”

  “That’s okay,” he said nonchalantly. “I’m sure I can track her down.”

  Maddie’s spine tingled at the thought of him talking to Ashleigh. Would her sister tell him the truth about her and Gray? Maddie didn’t think she would, but she hadn’t seen Ashleigh this angry in a while. She tried to ignore the rising panic in her stomach.

  “Can I get you something to eat while you’re here?” she asked. “We have an impressive menu.”

  “The coffee is fine. But I’d love a top up,” he said, smiling. “I did have one other question for you while I’m here.”

  “Ask away,” she said, turning to grab the coffee pot. It spluttered as she lifted it from the warming plate.

  “Somebody I talked to said you’ve been spending a lot of time with Gray over the past few weeks. They mentioned you being there when he was at the hospital for his hand.”

 
She turned to see Rick staring straight at her.

  He tipped his head to the side. “They also said they saw you kissing, which is kind of strange for a girl who doesn’t know him that well.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “You should have warned me,” Marco said, leaning his elbows on the old kitchen table. “If I’d have known about you and this girl I would’ve played this differently. Or argued more for you coming to L.A. for the interview.”

  “I did suggest that,” Gray pointed out. He was pissed. More than pissed. After a frantic call from Maddie, and Rick’s suggestion that he wanted to talk to Ashleigh and his dad, he was completely over this whole damn interview. And his hand was throbbing like a bitch.

  “But you didn’t tell me why.” Marco sighed. “I’ve spoken to Rick. He’s agreed to keep it to a minimum about the two of you. But you have to admit, Gray, it’s a great angle for him. Big Rockstar Falls for Small Town Diner Waitress. I can see the headline now.”

  “She’s not just a small town diner waitress,” Gray grumbled. “She’s a musician, too.”

  Marco raised an eyebrow. “That’s convenient.”

  “What do you mean?” Gray frowned.

  “I mean, if I was some hick looking for a big break, I’d probably be falling all over you, too.”

  “Yeah, well fuck you,” he said, his voice graveled.

  “You’re tetchy as hell today.”

  “I’m injured, I’m tired, and now I’m dealing with all this crap. I knew this whole thing was a bad idea.”

  “It’ll be fine. And your publicist will love it.” Marco looked up. “Have you written any songs about this girl for the album?”

  “Maddie,” Gray said pointedly. “Her name’s Maddie.”

  Marco’s lip twitched. “Okay, have you written any songs about Maddie?” he asked. “Because that would give us a great angle.”

  “I’m not using my relationship with Maddie for an angle.” He shook his head. “I don’t like it and she wouldn’t either. So that’s a no-go.”