Wild Nashville Ways

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  “Would you like a drink?” she asked, gaining her composure. “I made a pitcher of lemonade. Or I could fix you a cocktail.” She gestured to a fully stocked bar.

  “I’ll take the lemonade.” Those were my first words to my mother after eighteen years.

  She swept into the kitchen and returned with a tall crystal glass, garnished with lemon wedges. I took it from her. But suddenly I needed something stronger.

  I headed over to the bar and spiked my drink with a double shot of vodka, making my own effing cocktail.

  I felt her watching me. I turned and smiled like a snake, toasting her. “To my mother and her lies.” I needed to get the venom out of my system, to say what I was feeling.

  Her eyes watered again, her bottom lip quivering. “I’m sorry,” she said. “What I did to you was despicable.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  She toyed with a gold bangle on her wrist. It appeared to be a costume piece, too. I shifted my feet and noticed her eyeing my exorbitantly expensive boots.

  She said, “Thank you for setting me up here. It’s a beautiful place.”

  “I told Zeke to pick it out.”

  She angled her head. “You didn’t see it before he rented it for me?”

  “No.” I felt a muscle tick in my jaw. “I left it up to him.”

  “The yard has a magnificent rose garden. We can sit in the gazebo, if you’d like. I already turned on the lanterns out there.”

  “I’d rather stay inside.” I swigged my vodka-infused lemonade and asked, “What happened with the guy in Mexico? Why did your relationship with him end?”

  “Hector?” With a dramatic sigh, she plopped down on a velvet settee and crossed her legs. “He treated me horribly. He was always ordering me around, correcting me, making me feel like I wasn’t good enough for him. He comes from a distinguished family, and they looked down their noses at me, too. He didn’t even let me keep my best clothes or jewelry. He took away the things he’d bought for me, and I’d already sold most of my other belongings before I met him. I was having a hard time then, too.”

  Apparently, I’d guessed right. She didn’t have anything to show for being a mistress. Unless she was hiding her valuables, which was doubtful. She’d always been the type who liked to show things off.

  “Does Hector know what I do for a living?” I asked.

  “No. I didn’t even know, not until he kicked me out, and I came back to the States.”

  “That’s when you discovered I was famous? Right before you sent me the first letter?”

  She nodded. “It’s wild, isn’t it? I was down and out and staying with an old friend in LA, wondering how I was going to survive. Then I flipped through the music stations on her TV, and there you were, in one of your videos.” She folded her hands on her lap. “I tried to immerse myself in Hector’s world. I shut myself off from America and everything that was happening here. And since you’re not famous in Mexico, I never came across any news about you.”

  I took another swig of my drink. “I might make it there someday.” I already had songs hitting the pop charts in Australia, Europe and Asia, but she’d probably figured that out by now. Or at least gotten wind of the world tour I’d been on. Knowing her, she’d researched my net worth already.

  She brightly said, “As soon as I found out about you, I downloaded your album. I must have listened to it a hundred times by now.”

  I squinted. “Why didn’t you just say who you were when you first wrote to me? Why all the cloak-and-dagger stuff?”

  “I wasn’t sure if you read your fan mail or if you’d get my letter. But I wanted to get your attention in a way that no one else could, just in case I was able to reach you.”

  “Zeke had it analyzed. He even had the lab test your lipstick.”

  “Really?” She seemed impressed by the lengths we’d gone to, trying to unmask her. “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

  I scoffed at her doe-eyed expression. “Yeah, I’ll just bet.”

  She pouted. “Are you going to hate me forever?” When I shrugged, she touched a hand to her heart. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you. In spite of how it seems, I always loved you.”

  I snapped at her. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what? Tell you that I love you?”

  “Yes. I can’t stand it when women say that to me.” So far, she and Tracy were the only women who’d ever made that claim, and I didn’t have to worry about Tracy saying it anymore.

  “But don’t your female fans say it all the time?”

  “That’s different. I’m just an illusion to them. A fantasy, not the real thing.”

  “Did I ruin you?” she asked, in a fussy-mom tone. “Leaving you all alone?”

  “I wasn’t alone. Dad was there.” I finished my drink and slammed the empty glass on the bar. “And do I look ruined to you? I have everything I always wanted. You should see my mansion,” I bragged, intent on impressing her, even if saying it out loud didn’t make me feel any better.

  She leaned forward. “Are you going to invite me over so I can see it?”

  “No. And you better not tell anyone that I’m your son. If you do, I’ll cut you off.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid.” She gazed observantly at me. “Did Zeke tell you that I plan to change my name?”

  “Yes, and I’m fine with it.” At this point, I preferred that she become someone new. “I’m going to go now.”

  She stood. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

  Right, I thought. Because she was a damsel in distress. The thought almost made me laugh.

  But after she rushed over and flung her arms around me, I wasn’t anywhere near laughing. When I was a kid, I’d longed for her to come back, to hold me, to love me.

  Only I couldn’t face it now. I stood stiffly while she hugged me, unable to return her embrace.

  She let go of me and asked, “When are you going to come back and visit me again?”

  “I don’t know.” For now, all I could do was take one shaky day at a time. And try not to hurt as much as I used to.

  Nine

  Tracy

  I’d been sleeping with Dash for a little over a month, but my plan wasn’t working. I still loved him, aching every time I saw him, every time he touched me. Should I end the affair now and put myself out of my misery?

  No, I thought. If I bailed out too soon, that might only make me want him more. My solution was to keep going, hoping and praying that I came to my senses.

  Along with my struggles, I noticed how moody Dash had been lately. He could be up one minute and down the next. Nothing was clear, not when it came to his behavior. At least I was consistently frazzled. But I tried to be careful not to let it show. I didn’t want Dash analyzing me or my actions.

  He seemed happy today, but Pop was here with us at Pine Tower, delivering Valentine, the foal Dash had purchased.

  The three of us were gathered in the barn, getting the filly settled into her new home. She already had a people-friendly personality, and she was especially fond of Dash. He adored her, as well. They were a good match.

  He would be putting a lot of time into her care and training. He intended to do quite a bit of it himself, but he’d also hired a trainer that my father had recommended.

  Pop glanced over at me and smiled. He was happy today, too, just like Dash. But Pop’s joy went beyond the horse. He was thrilled that Dash and I were seeing each other again.

  We didn’t tell him the truth, though. We allowed him to believe that we were a legitimate couple and not just two scattered people submerged in an affair.

  “Do you want to go for a walk?” I asked my dad. I needed some time to clear my head, and since Dash was busy with the foal, I didn’t think he would care if we slipped away.

  Pop agreed to accompany me, and
we let Dash know that we would be back in a little while.

  My father took my arm, and we strolled along the lake, the sun bright and high in the sky, the weather warm.

  “It sure is beautiful here,” he said.

  “Yes, it is.” The land was green and lush, the water clear and blue. Even the forest seemed enchanted. I imagined fairies and gnomes and other mystical creatures inhabiting it.

  As we stopped to watch the ducks, some swimming and others preening, a childhood memory flooded my mind. “Do you remember the report I wrote in third grade called ‘How Ducks Stay Dry’?”

  He nodded and smiled. “I think I still have it in the file cabinet in the garage, with some of your old report cards and drawings and whatnot. You were such a cute duckling yourself. Your mom and I were always so proud of you.” He sweetly added, “I still am.”

  “Thank you.” My heart warmed from his words. But would he still be proud of me if he knew what a mess my life really was?

  He turned and gazed at me from beneath the brim of his hat. “Now that you and Dash are together, have you changed your mind about making a record with him?”

  “No, I haven’t. But you know how I feel about that. How I need to do things on my own.” I wished that I could tell Pop the truth about my relationship with Dash. But my plan was beginning to seem odd, even to myself. Who sleeps with someone to try to stop loving them?

  Was I going about this all wrong? Should I be encouraging Dash to love me instead? Was he more capable of it than he believed himself to be? Or was I being an idiot, just like I was before, longing for the impossible?

  “Are you all right?” Pop asked.

  I exhaled a jittery breath. “I’m fine.”

  “You seem anxious all of a sudden. Was it because I mentioned the duet? I’m sorry for pressuring you about that. If you need to handle your career on your own terms, then it’s not my place to tell you otherwise.”

  At this point, I needed to handle everything on my own terms. But heaven help me, I longed for the kind of love that had bloomed between my parents. Something honest and true, something infinite.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Pop asked again.

  “Yes, I’m sure. Let’s go back to the barn and see how Dash and Valentine are doing.” I didn’t want to stay here under my father’s scrutiny.

  Unfortunately, when we returned to the barn, my emotions went from bad to worse, especially when Dash glanced up from the filly to smile at me. By now, I just wanted to pull him tight against me. To kiss him senseless. To close my eyes and block out those desperate yearnings of love.

  * * *

  Later, when we were alone, I acted on my urges, leading Dash to a vacant stall and devouring his mouth with mine. Judging by his fierce reaction, he was more than willing to be ravished.

  When we came up for air, he said, “That outfit of yours has been driving me crazy all day.”

  I’d dressed for the hot weather in a T-shirt and cut-off shorts. “You’ve always had a thing for me in Daisy Dukes.”

  “And midcalf boots.” He leaned back, giving me a slow, sexy gander.

  I latched onto his belt loops, tugging him toward me again. “You better have a condom on you.”

  “I always keep one handy now that I’m with you.” He dug a packet out of his wallet.

  “Just hurry up.”

  He put his wallet away. “Damn, but you’re on fire.”

  Yes, I was burning up, with passion, with a feeling of do-or-die. But I was the one who was trying to forget about love.

  We kissed once more, then dived into a frenzy.

  He peeled off my shorts and panties, leaving me in my top and boots. I untucked his casual snap-front shirt and pulled it open in one swift motion, baring his beautifully tanned chest. He shoved his jeans and boxers down, and I watched his erection spring free.

  He fumbled with the condom, cursing when he couldn’t tear open the wrapper fast enough.

  I keened out a moan when he finally thrust into me. He moved like a madman, hard and fast. My bare butt was going to be sore later, with how feverishly I was being jackhammered against the wall.

  The stall was clean, but the scent of horses and hay still permeated the air, making us seem animalistic, too, as we panted and pushed and made primal sounds.

  I bit down on my bottom lip so hard I nearly drew blood. I didn’t even care if someone came into the barn and saw us. But I knew that wasn’t likely. Dash had sent his ranch hands away earlier so he could have time alone with Valentine. And now he was getting time alone with me.

  Dirty time, I thought. But this was what I wanted, what I needed to liberate my heart. Only it didn’t work.

  After our orgasms exploded and the sex was over, my problem wasn’t solved. I was still consumed with love.

  * * *

  We got dressed and went into the house. And all the while, my thoughts were reeling. Was I being foolish? Or was it possible for Dash to love me? I wanted to believe the best, to cling to some sort of hope. But I was scared, too, of slipping back into my old ways and getting my soul crushed.

  “Do you want to listen to some music?” he asked.

  “Sure. Okay.” I tried to sound more upbeat than I felt, and it seemed as though I’d succeeded. He didn’t appear to notice how conflicted I was.

  I followed him into the music room, where he kept his guitars, his studio equipment, his gold records and awards.

  While I headed for a black leather recliner, he searched for LPs to play on an old-school stereo he’d built. As much as he appreciated digital music, he’d been collecting vinyl for as long as I’d known him.

  In regard to his own songs, most of his lyrics were filled with angst, influenced by his impoverished youth and his struggle to make his way in the world. His chart-topping album had a broodingly handsome image of him on the cover that made women want to save him. Me, included. And I was supposed to know better.

  But apparently, I knew nothing. Because here I was, wishing all over again that he loved me.

  He glanced up and caught my gaze, and my heart dropped straight to my stomach, where our baby had once nestled. He hadn’t written any songs about that and neither had I.

  No one except our dads had known that I was pregnant. We hadn’t told our friends or coworkers. We’d planned to once I was farther along, but that never happened.

  “I still need to call Spencer,” he said, pulling me out of the past and back to the present.

  “To work on your collaboration?”

  “Yes, but then I thought it might be nice to invite him and Alice over first. Or is the four of us getting together still an issue for you?”

  “We can hang out with them, if you want.” At this point, I liked the idea of doing a couples thing. Spencer and Alice had overcome tons of obstacles to be together, and I admired them for what they’d accomplished. And maybe, just maybe, their happily-married, crazy-in-love vibe might rub off on Dash.

  He studied me for a second. “Really, you’re okay with it? I expected you to invoke one of your rules.”

  “Most of my rules have already fallen by the wayside.” And by now, I had a new agenda. Mercy me. If he only knew.

  “Then let’s plan a barbecue, as soon as they’re available. Maybe we can all go kayaking that day, too.”

  “I’ll text Alice and see what she says.” I suspected that she and Spencer would be happy to join us for food and a paddle around the lake.

  Dash continued rifling through his record collection and held up two country blues albums that we’d both been reared on.

  I nodded my approval, and he removed them from their sleeves and placed them on the stacking spindle. As the first one dropped onto the turntable and began to play, he came over to me. He crawled onto my chair, sending the recliner back.

  I gripped the sides of the leather. “
What are you doing?”

  “Kissing you.” He put his lips on mine, and I swooned like a schoolgirl. He was being warm and gentle, his touch slow and easy, as if he had all the time in the world. And he did, I thought. I would give him the rest of my life if it worked out that way.

  My eyelids fluttered open and I gazed at his face, so close to mine. Was he capable of love? Was the shell he’d built around himself breakable?

  There was no way I could end this affair without at least trying to find out. But I had to stay strong, too. To keep my wits about me. I couldn’t fall apart like before.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  A sigh escaped my throat. “You.”

  “What about me?”

  I answered as honestly as I could, without giving myself away. “How amazing you make me feel, about how much I need you.”

  He kissed me again, and I floated into a romantic abyss, lost in the feeling of him.

  * * *

  The barbecue got off to a wonderful start. I set the table with picnic ware, and the four of us gathered on Dash’s patio with his oasis-style pool as the backdrop. We didn’t involve his chef. We did everything ourselves, like regular people.

  Along with the burgers Dash had grilled, we dined on salads and sides and fresh-cut watermelon. For dessert, I’d made a big frothy bowl of strawberry trifle, and I put that out, too.

  Dash nursed a beer while Spencer, a recovering alcoholic, drank ginger ale. Spencer didn’t shy away from events where spirits were served. He even kept a bar at his house to accommodate his guests. But he attended meetings regularly, too. He didn’t take his recovery lightly, and neither did Alice. He’d nearly relapsed during a difficult time in their relationship.

  He and Alice made an attractive couple. Whereas she was blonde and fair, he was tall and dark. They’d both been wild in their youth. In some ways, they’d been cut from the same cloth.