Текст книги "Missing Dixie"

Автор книги: Caisey Quinn

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

27 | Dixie

THE PHI KAP gig was a piece of cake. We played to hundreds of drunken frat boys and their dates and the majority of the crowd was too drunk to know if we were decent or if we sucked. A few of them recognized Dallas, girls mostly, but only a handful made a pass at him. Afterward we got brinner at a nearby diner, where Robyn joined us and we had more fun than we’d had in a long time. We’re a family now, the four, soon to be five, of us. It made me smile, but there was still a nagging thought in the back of my mind. I wished Liam could’ve been there. I could hardly eat my waffles. I didn’t touch my hash browns.

I called Mrs. Lawson, who said Liam was officially in the care of Child Protective Services and that she had applied to be his temporary guardian as well in case I got turned down.

Tonight I have to put my worries aside and focus on playing. Any tension I feel or hold inside will come right out into my hands and onto Oz.

I spend the entire ride to the Tavern practicing the deep-breathing techniques Robyn has taught us all.

Dallas thinks we’re ready for this. I can only hope he’s right.

Walking into the Tavern the night of the competition is unreal. There are twice as many people as I expected and the energy is palpable. Despite a glarey-faced older brother breathing fire nearby, Gavin holds my hand and brushes his lips against mine several times.

Dallas will just have to get used to it. I have to watch him and Robyn practically going at it on a weekly basis.

The closer it gets to our turn, the more still we each become. None of us even speak while we’re in the area behind the bar where bands are lined up. We drew number fifteen for the first round so at least we’re near the middle.

Our first song is a Lady Antebellum cover called “Just a Kiss” and Dallas and I harmonize really well. Probably that whole shared DNA thing.

Next up we play a reworked countrified R&B hit that has always been a fan favorite.

We exit the stage to a wild cacophony of applause.

My nerves are shot from stress but I grin through the rest of the performances. There are only two other bands that really give us a run for our money. Still, knowing we might not win is only fueling my need for it.

We make our way back to the line, drawing number eight for round two. Only fifteen bands made the cut, so I feel like eight is a good slot.

In the second round we play a harder, more aggressive song called “Take It Out on Me,” mashed up with a song called “Games,” and the women in the audience are losing it. Gavin is killing it on the drums and Dallas is giving it his all. I’m singing more than I ever have before and Dallas was right, my voice does add a rich layer of depth to the band. This is us. We are on. I’m so proud to be a part of it I feel like I could burst. We’ve got the hometown crowd advantage for sure and our cheering section is by far the loudest.

Robyn moves through the crowd handing out drink huggers, T-shirts, and postcards with our name and social media info on them.

While we wait for the remaining bands to play, Gavin steps away to check his phone. I use the ladies’ room and freshen my makeup. Butterflies come to life in my belly while the other bands play. It hits me hard during the downtime.

This is it.

This is our shot.

It’s even more crucial than Austin MusicFest was because now we’re actually ready for it. Dallas can’t afford to keep “playing” at having a band and this is our chance to legitimize our dream as an actual career. Right here. Right now.

I feel the oncoming panic attack affecting my breathing and I need the guys to help calm my nerves. Otherwise I might float away into outer space. But I don’t see either of them near the bathrooms.

Making my way through the sea of bodies filling the bar, I search for signs of either Dallas or Gavin in every small grouping of people but see neither.

Dallas waves at me from a seat where he and Robyn are talking up the Rock the Republic guys. I’m relieved to see them, but still no Gavin.

I’m drunk on adrenaline and disoriented as I continue my search.

The emcee announces that there are two bands left and I feel like I’m being thrown face-first out of a plane—with no parachute.

Where the hell is he?

I throw up a silent prayer, my last resort when I’m consumed with hopelessness.

Please don’t let him choose the darkness.

Please, please, for once, for me, let him choose the light.

28 | Gavin

I DON’T KNOW if it’s an innate thing or what, but I can literally feel when my mom is about to come into my world and fuck it all up.

All night at the battle of the bands I’ve been jittery, on edge, and basically consumed with the overwhelming sensation of impending doom. After round two I check my phone for news that the sky is falling and there it is.

The trailer is gone.

I need your help.

I’m all alone.

I’m scared, Gavin. Please.

I don’t recognize the number but I know it’s one of the many prepaid cell phones she goes through. I resist the urge to call back until I’m outside the bar. We’ve got several other acts until we go on again, if we even make it to the finals, that is. When Dixie heads to the ladies’ room I slip outside and pull up the number.

It goes to a generic message telling me this user doesn’t have voice mail.

I wait a few seconds and sure enough, my phone vibrates in my hand.

Caller Unknown.

Except, I do know.

“Hi, Mom,” I answer on a sigh.

“How could you?” her shrill voice answers back. “How could you let them take our home away, Gavin? What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”

The list is endless.

“It wasn’t being paid for and you were never there. I moved out on my own like I told you I was going to. It’s been gone almost a week and you’re just now noticing. That should tell you everything you need to know.”

A couple moves past me to go inside the Tavern and I nod and step aside.

My mom’s shrieking reaches an inaudible level of hysteria as she rambles on about having nowhere else to go and how she’s not safe.

“Not safe from what, Mom?” I break in. “Calm down and breathe and tell me what you aren’t safe from.”

“Carl,” she chokes out. “No one is safe from Carl. They took his son away, said you and your friend reported him and some other stuff. He asked me where to find you and nearly strangled me to death until I told him.”

Jesus.

“Where are you? And where did you tell him to look?”

She coughs her typical smoker’s wheeze loudly into the phone before answering me.

“Mom. Fucking tell me where you are and where you told him I’d be.”

“I-I wasn’t sure,” she stammers out. “I told him you work at that bar we saw you at and that sometimes you hang out at that Korean store by the truck stop. I didn’t tell him anything else, I swear.”

She told him enough.

“Where are you right now?”

She coughs again. “I’m at his place. At Carl’s. But he’s not here; he left when they called and told him he couldn’t have his son back. He said he was going to find you and your friend and teach you a lesson about interfering in other people’s private business.”

“Great, Mom. That’s great. Thanks.”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” she pleads. “I—he’s—you’re not . . . He’s not a good man, Gavin. If he wants to hurt you, he will.”

I breathe through my nose.

Violence.

It always finds me.

But I’ll be damned if it comes anywhere near my Bluebird.

The thing about my world is that it’s typically bathed in darkness regardless. People like Carl and my mother will find the darkened corners even in the bright of day. It’s where they thrive.

I text Dallas that I have to check on something and that if I don’t make it back in time to go on without me. He and Dixie can perform her original song acoustic-style and it will still be amazing.

I practically jog to Mr. Kyung’s store, breaking into a full-out sprint when I see the flames. The scent of ash and destruction swirl in the air around me.

What the fuck?

Mr. Kyung and his wife are outside and he’s shouting into the phone. I pray it’s to 911 or the fire department. I run around the side of the building and grab the garden hose, pulling it as close as it will reach.

Carl set the truck on fire. The truck that I use sometimes.

It’s a message. A warning. One I don’t plan to heed. Within a few minutes the fire department arrives and begins battling the flames with much more success than I did.

I comfort Mr. Kyung and his wife, promising them both I will replace the truck and handle any damage that insurance doesn’t cover. I don’t know how, but I will. This is my mess to clean up.

The thought of Carl going to the Tavern and doing something similar with Dixie inside floods my mind. Mental images have me literally shaking with rage as I run as fast as I can to his house.

Once I arrive, I catch my breath and storm inside. A few junkies litter the floor in the front room and my mother sits slouched over a makeshift kitchen table made of cinder blocks and plywood.

“Mom,” I say as loud as I can. “Mom, look at me.” I wait until she does.

Both of her eyes are swollen and she’s likely battered and high at the moment.

“Where is he?”

She’s dazed, staring at me as if I’m a stranger speaking a foreign language.

“Mom,” I repeat slowly. “Where is Carl? Carl, you know, your friend. Where is he?”

“Carl?”

I want to shake the answer out of her. Scream and demand she sober up and come to.

“Tell me where Carl is. Carl can help you, okay? He can help you feel better.”

He can’t, but this is how you get info from a junkie. Make promises of things that will never happen. The cops are especially good at it.

“Carl is . . . Carl went . . .”

She breaks out into a fit of maniacal laughter and I’m nearly losing it.

“Tell me. It’s important. I’ll help you feel better if you just tell me.”

She sighs, then looks up at me with eyes as dark as midnight. “Carl went to get his son.” She giggles again. “I didn’t even know he had a son. B, B,” she calls to a nearby stoner making out with some girl who looks barely legal. “B, did you know Carl had a son?”

“Where is his son, Katrina? Answer me. Where is he?” This time I do reach out and grab her.

Her attention returns to me, her eyes snapping into focus on my face. “How do you know my name?”

Fuck this.

I make my way outside, tripping over bodies and God knows what else as I go. The shadows cast by Carl’s house are dark but just beyond them is the light, a glow being sent down from a streetlamp like a beam from Heaven.

“Gavin,” a female voice calls from the light. “Gavin, wait.”

29 | Dixie

THERE ARE CERTAIN things I’ve learned growing up that have shaped who I’ve become.

My parents taught me about love. My grandparents taught me about patience, kindness, and perseverance.

Every moment of my life has taught me about music.

Music can seem complicated to people who don’t play it. Notes and chords, scales, choruses, rhythms, crescendos and such.

But it all comes down to one

simple

thing.

The beat.

If you can feel it, you are a part of it.

The beat has always been within me, in my heart. And with every beat I have loved Gavin, have wanted and needed him.

He is the beat of Leaving Amarillo. He is the heartbeat of my existence. And I will spend my life loving him with each and every beat of my heart.

My heart will forever beat in time with his until it no longer beats at all.

“Gavin, wait.”

My voice breaks the silent stillness of night and I watch him decide. He’s shrouded in darkness, surrounded by the shadow of Carl’s house. I knew he would come here, knew his mom would eventually pull him back in, just as Dallas predicted.

I glance over my shoulder at where my brother sits in the driver’s seat of EmmyLou, waiting for Gavin to decide.

Choose us, I plead silently. Choose the light.

I hold my hand out, stretching my arm as far as I can until my fingertips cross into darkness.

“I love you, Gavin,” I say to his frozen form before me. “I will love you in times of strength and in times of weakness. I love all the parts of you—the darkness and the light. And I will love you forever no matter what you decide.”

His eyes gleam in the glow of the lamp above.

“Blue . . .”

I shake my head. “You don’t have to explain. I can do the math. But here, now, Gavin, I need you to choose. I need you to pick me, pick the band, pick us, pick this path. I will love you forever. I choose you. But if you don’t choose me, here, now, I’ll have to love you enough to let you go.”

Tires squeal on pavement beside us, a beat-up blue Ford coming angrily to a halt mere feet from where Gavin stands.

Carl gets out wielding a baseball bat and Dallas is out of EmmyLou like a genie out of a bottle.

Carl’s quicker. “There you are, you little son of a bitch. Did you take my son? You and your little friend playing house, are you? Not so tough now, are you?” Carl turns to me and Gavin steps in between us.

“No,” I whisper quietly so that only Gavin can hear. “He’s not worth it. This is his property and he has a restraining order against you. Stop, Gav. Think.”

Another man gets out of the truck that Carl was in and sneers menacingly at us. This is how it happens. This is how people with bright futures end up in comas and wheelchairs and prison—one moment, one bad decision leads to them flushing their dreams down the toilet.

“Stay away from her,” Gavin calls out, walking closer to them and farther from me. “Stay away from my mom, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Liam.”

“Well her,” Carl calls out nodding toward me, “I could give a fuck about. But your mom can’t seem to stay away from me, pretty boy. And Liam is my boy. You hear that, you little piano-playing bitch? My boy!”

I lung toward Gavin, barely catching him around the waist as Dallas wraps his arms behind his back. He’s ready to fight Carl, to throw everything away for this sad, pathetic man.

“Your mom has made her choices, man,” Dallas says quietly. “You need to make your own. Get in the truck and let’s go back to the Tavern. Now.”

Gavin doesn’t budge. My stomach is hollow and my heart aches for him. This is on him. I can’t save him from this. From himself. This time it has to be his choice.

“We’ll be in the truck,” I tell him in his ear. “You decide which you’d rather do. Spend a lifetime fighting lowlifes for your mom’s sake, or be with me, with us.”

Dallas gapes at me but I gesture for him to follow me to the truck.

“He has to choose, Dallas. We can’t force him into our world anymore. He has to come willingly.”

I kiss Gavin gently on the cheek. “I love you. All of you,” I whisper before walking away.

He stands tall and unflinching and I am dying inside.

Either way, something will end tonight.

I just don’t know what it will be.

30 | Gavin

I’M TORN BETWEEN two worlds, two opposite versions of myself.

They say man has two basic reactions: fight or flight.

For the first time in my life I’m choosing flight.

“Go to hell, Carl.” I glance up at his house. “No, wait, you’re already there.”

He glares at me and takes a step forward.

“Think long and hard about what you’re about to do. I have witnesses this time. Lots of them.”

The police I notified on my jog over from Kyung’s begin pulling up with sirens wailing.

Carl glances around and curses me under his breath.

“Have a nice life, Carl. By the way, I made sure to leave the front door open in invitation so they can tally up the many kilos of illegal narcotics you’re in possession of. Not to mention the underage girl inside. Take care now.”

Without a backward glance, I make my way to where Dixie stands next to EmmyLou.

“What about your mom?” she asks with wary eyes as I draw closer.

“I talked to Ashley. She’s going to see if my mom can get mandated rehab instead of prison time, but you were right about something.”

“Oh yeah?” Dixie gives me an adorable half smile. “And what’s that, drummer boy?”

“It was time for me to make my own choice, for me.”

She nods with shining eyes. “And what did you decide?”

“I decided we’d better haul ass if we’re going to make it back to the Tavern on time.”

Dixie yelps out a small cry as I wrap her in my arms and place her in the truck. Dallas says something that sounds like “hell yeah,” and we are off.

On the way to a bright new future, on the path that was meant for us, the one that began the day I met Dallas and Dixie Lark on an old, dilapidated front porch.

“One, two, one, two, three, four.”

I count down the beat and we launch into the song Dixie wrote for our original performance in the battle of the bands. Dallas made a few modifications and with my beat in the background it’s become one hell of a song. The audience seems to agree as we play, but we all know it isn’t up to them. It’s up to the competition judge’s panel, which includes an executive from the record label that will be signing the winner.

My palms are sweaty as hell but I manage to hang on to my sticks. I watch Dixie as she performs, and think of how she may never realize I have been watching her, loving her, from this vantage point since we began playing years ago.

The crowd is quiet for a moment when we finish and I begin to panic. But just before I’m convinced they hated it, applause breaks out and fills the room. It’s loud and enthusiastic and for a little while it feels like we already won.

We make our way offstage and head to the bar behind Dallas. He orders all three of us drinks, even Dixie, and we each take a shot of Fireball.

“We killed that,” Dixie says, grinning at me after making a twisted face at the burn from the shot. “I mean, I was nervous, you know? It’s a new song, we hadn’t rehearsed as much as we should have, but wow. We nailed it. It was even better than I imagined it could be.”

“Agreed,” Robyn says, coming up behind Dixie and sidling up to where Dallas is leaning against the bar. “I’m biased, but personally I think it’s in the bag.”

“Might be,” Dallas says before planting a kiss on her lips. “Even if it’s not, it was one hell of a performance.” He reaches out to fist-bump me and Dixie and we return the gesture.

“It’s been one hell of a night, that’s for sure.” I take a long pull of the beer Jake brought me and nod toward Dixie. “Think we could catch a minute outside? Alone?”

Dixie grins at me and her smile is everything. “I think I can spare a moment for you. Maybe.”

It takes us a while to maneuver through the crowd and make our way to the back door but we do. Amid several pats on the back and hearty congratulations we finally escape the insanity.

“That was something all right,” I say once we’re out back beside the dumpsters.

“Yeah, it was.” Dixie leans back against the building and stares up at the stars while I stare at her. “You think everything has a purpose, Gav? Us? Our music? All of it?”

I clear my throat and glance up at the stars with her. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess I hope so. It’d be nice to know someone was up there knowing what they were doing. Clearly none of us down here have it all figured out.”

She laughs lightly but her smile is faint.

“Everything okay, Bluebird?”

With a heavy sigh she turns toward me. “I am so proud of you for tonight, for choosing this instead of the darkness. But I can’t stop thinking about someone else. Someone else I’m afraid will forever be lost in the dark if we don’t do something.”

“You got another man on the side, Lark? I gotta say, I didn’t see this coming.”

She shoves playfully at my chest. “Liam, Gav. I can’t stop thinking about Liam. About what he’s going through and how sad he must be and confused. Scared, probably.”

“Probably,” I agree. “But they’re keeping him away from Carl and that’s certainly a good thing.”

She wraps her arms around herself and I decide to wrap mine around her as well. “I know. I’m glad he isn’t with Carl. I just keep thinking I wish I’d had more time with him. More campouts, more cookies to make, more music lessons to give. I . . . I miss him.”

I squeeze her tightly. “I know you do, babe. And I get it. But a little boy like that, one who’s had a life like mine, he’s a lot of responsibility. Especially when you’re a twenty-year-old woman living on her own—busy with a band and a thriving music business.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” she bites out.

Color me surprised. “You don’t care about Leaving Amarillo or Over the Rainbow? Since when?”

She shakes her head and shrugs out of my grasp. I let my hands fall to my sides.

“I do care about the band and about my organization. That’s not what I mean. I just mean all the successful bands or businesses in the world won’t mean anything if I have to live my life knowing that little boy slipped through the cracks.”

I nod. “Like I did, right?”

She gives me a thin smile and watery eyes. “But don’t you get it? You turned out okay, because you found a family to care for you. Me, Dallas, Nana, and Papa. You had us. You found love. It’s why you’re surprisingly well-adjusted. Why you choose the light instead of the dark. But that’s why I’m worried. What if Liam doesn’t ever find that?”

“There are no guarantees in life,” I begin slowly, hoping a soothing tone will ease the blow of what I’m about to say. “There were none for us and there will be none for Liam. The best we can do is be there, be available to him in whatever capacity we can manage.”

“That’s not good enough,” she says shortly. “I’m sorry, but it’s not. Our paths crossed for a reason. I believe his path crossed with ours for a reason, too.”

“And you think that reason is . . .” She gives me a pointed look and I place my arms back around her and pull her to my chest. “You can’t save everyone, Bluebird. You can’t love everyone all better even if you try your hardest.”

“I don’t want to save everyone,” she says in a sexy pouty voice that turns me on at the most inopportune time. “Just you. And Liam. Is that so much to ask?”

“No, babe. It’s not. I just think it might be a bit more complicated, since Liam is a kid and—”

I’m interrupted by the vibrating of her phone in her pocket between us.

“Speaking of complicated. It’s our complicated blond attorney,” Dixie says dazedly while staring at the phone.

“Answer it. Maybe it’ll be good news for a change. Maybe she called to wish us luck tonight. Or maybe Carl reported me for violating the protection order.”

She takes a few steps to the side to answer and I can barely hear her over the noise coming through the back door someone has propped open.

I walk over to close it but Dallas’s head pops out before I can. “Guys. Get in here. Now. They’re announcing the winner.”

I glance over at Dixie, who holds one finger up signaling that we should wait while she continues her phone conversation.

“We’ll be in there in just a sec,” I tell Dallas.

“Hurry,” he huffs out on an exasperated breath. “They’re making the announcement like right now.”

I nod. “Got it. We’ll be right there.”

He lets the door slam and Dixie ends her call.

She opens her mouth to speak but once again the back door opens and all I hear is cheering and indecipherable noise from inside.

“We won!” Dallas yells into the back alley while hitting the back door hard enough to bruise a few knuckles. “Holy shit, you two. Get the hell in here. We won! We’re officially being signed to Rock the Republic Records. We’re going on tour. Like next week! Get in here right now!”

He’s practically blasting off into outer space. “Slow down, Rocket Man,” I tell him. “Dix? Bluebird? You okay?” She’s stoic in the face of Dallas’s epic news. Not smiling. Not even blinking. “Dixie?”

Even Dallas has begun to look worried. “Dixie? Say something, please. We won.”

She blinks once, then stares at us as if we’re the ones who just returned to reality.

“That was Ashley. She had . . . news.”

Dallas and I wait silently for her to continue. Her eyes are shining but I can’t tell if they’re tears of joy or sadness.

“I’ve just been approved as Liam’s temporary guardian. Starting right now.”