Текст книги "Loving Dallas"
Автор книги: Caisey Quinn
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
26 | Robyn
WHEN THE TOUR HEADS TO TEXAS, I’M GRATEFUL FOR THE TIME to sleep in my own bed. The schedule has been grueling and nights with Dallas haven’t included a lot of actual sleep. Not that I’m complaining.
As much as I want to crash for the entire weekend, the first thing I do when I arrive home is have lunch and go shopping with my mom. I fill her in about Dallas being on the tour and she sort of half-yells at me for not calling her with this news sooner.
Sitting across from me at our favorite Tex-Mex place, she adjusts the vibrant pink scarf covering her head and gapes at me. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Working with him after everything?”
I don’t bother filling her in on the details of our little arrangement.
“I’m fine. It’s been surprisingly okay.” Better than okay, really, but this is my mom here. Plus she doesn’t know why we broke up and I have no plans of ever telling her.
I was always closer with my dad, but after he passed away, my mom and I definitely bonded. When she got sick, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing another person I loved so I became dedicated to making sure I did everything in my power to keep her healthy.
The older I get, the more I realize how much she and I have in common. We’re both control freaks with slight OCD tendencies who obsess about plans and lists and agendas. Funny, when I was younger, those things drove me half-crazy about her. Now I get it, though, the need for control in a world of chaos. You have to take it where you can get it.
Once I’ve convinced her I can handle the tour, she moves on from Dallas and peppers me with questions about Jase Wade. I knew she was a fan, but sheesh. When she asks if he’s seeing anyone, I’m almost nervous for him since I got her backstage passes for the show tomorrow night. Maybe I should have them bulk up Wade’s security. Dixie will be there, too, though Dallas texted and said Gavin wouldn’t be able to make it. It’s odd to me that he can’t come to his best friend’s show, but Gavin Garrison has never been the predictable type.
After a long afternoon with my mom, one that ended with us hearing Dallas on the radio telling the world that he’s a single man, I’m thankful when I get home to a note from Katie saying she’s staying with a friend and not to wait up.
I’ve just decided to run myself a hot bubble bath when my phone buzzes in my purse. I retrieve it, smiling when I see Dallas on the screen.
“Hey, you,” I say. “Enjoying being home in the great state of Texas?”
“It could be worse, I guess.” He doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds like someone ran over his dog, or maybe even him.
“You okay?”
“Can I come by? It doesn’t have to be for . . . you know. I just want to see you.”
“Look at you being all sweet. I kind of like this side of you. Maybe we should come home more often.”
“That so?”
“Come on over, Lark. I was just about to take a bubble bath but I guess I can wait. Care to join me?”
“You? Naked? In a tub full of bubbles?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dallas is quiet for a second. “Well, I guess if you’re going to twist my arm . . .”
I’m still laughing when we hang up.
I open the door in nothing but my robe and Dallas smiles despite the sadness in his eyes.
“Hey,” I say, ushering him inside. “What’s up with you? I thought you’d be happy to be home, or close to home at least.”
“I had radio interviews today. One with Ricky Ray and several with a few local stations,” he tells me, taking off his dark brown jacket and hanging it in the corner on one of my bar stools. “Want to know what question they all wanted an answer to?”
I nod. I heard most of the one with Ricky Ray but I still have no idea what has him looking so beat down.
“ ‘What happened to Leaving Amarillo, Dallas? Why’d you leave your band, Dallas? Did you get too big for them, Dallas? Were they holding you back, Dallas?’ ”
His tone has turned from mocking to angry by the end of his diatribe.
“That’s more than one question,” I note quietly.
“Same general idea.” He pauses to shake his head. “Basically around here I’m the jerk-off that broke up a beloved local band to go be a fame whore. So to answer your question, no, I’m not all that thrilled to be home.”
“They don’t know the whole story.” I don’t even think I know the whole story, for that matter.
“No, but that’s why they make assumptions and ask. It was like being pinned into a corner all fucking day. What was I supposed to tell them? Dixie was grieving and the label is run by a sexist asshole she didn’t have the energy or the desire to try and persuade? Oh, and Gavin didn’t particularly want to spend the next three to five years in jail for breaking his probation? I mean, what the hell, you know?”
“I don’t really know,” I say soothingly. “But I can imagine. And I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve been there for you.” I step closer to him, hoping to absorb some of the frustration rolling off him and ease his anguish
“Yeah?” He looks down at me with a lifted brow. The heat warming in his gaze tells me I was relatively successful. “Well, you’re here now.” He reaches for the belt to my robe and I let him tug it off. The sides fall open, revealing my naked body.
“That I am. And so are you.”
“So now that we’re both here,” he says, giving me a sexy grin that has trouble written all over it. “What should we do with ourselves?”
“Bath first,” I tell him. “Because I’ve already run the water and I like it hot.”
“I like it hot, too,” he says, pushing my robe to the floor.
27 | Dallas
STRANGELY ENOUGH, ROBYN AND I DON’T HAVE SEX IN HER BATHTUB. We talk. And we take turns washing each other’s backs, and though my dick remains mostly hard, it’s the most relaxed I’ve felt since the tour started.
Lying on my stomach on her bed watching her slather her entire body in sweet-smelling lotion, I feel like I’m being let in on some secret female ritual. All I did was dry off with one of her fluffy expensive towels. But she had a strategic five-point process to execute after our bath. After the lotion, there’s deodorant, then some type of cream for face and another kind for her hair, which she combs through with her fingers before slipping her robe back on.
When she climbs onto my back and begins massaging me, I suspect I’ve died and gone to heaven. I can feel her against me, the warmth at her center, and the swells of her breasts when she leans forward. It’s erotic and the scent of her filling the room is intoxicating.
Her phone ringing from somewhere else in her apartment breaks the spell and I groan in protest when she gets up to answer it.
She’s gone so long I almost fall asleep. When she returns, she looks both excited and stressed-out.
“Now you’re the one who needs the massage,” I say while sitting up. She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Uh-oh. What happened?”
Robyn steps closer to the bed and I notice her hands are behind her back. “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
I can’t even begin to fathom what either could be.
“Uh, bad news first, I guess. Then maybe the good news can cheer me up.”
She nods. “Okay. That was my boss. I won’t be at your show tomorrow night. My mom is going to be so bummed.”
Fuck. “Why? Because of me? Because of us?” If Midnight Bay is firing her over this, I’ll be having words with them first thing tomorrow morning.
She grins in response to my panic attack. “Nope. Actually I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“But you’re going to,” I tell her, because like hell I’m dropping it without an explanation.
“Yeah. I think you’ve dealt with enough today with the radio interviews. A surprise party is probably the last thing you need thrown at you.”
“A surprise party? What am I, twelve? It’s not even my birthday.”
Robyn laughs softly and produces a bottle of champagne from behind her back. “The numbers just came out. Jase’s album went platinum and your single went gold.”
Whoa.
I can’t believe Mandy or someone from the label hasn’t called me. Hell, maybe they have. I forgot I turned my phone off when I got here.
“No shit?”
“No shit,” she says. “Congratulations, Dallas. Midnight Bay is throwing you and Jase both a celebratory surprise party next weekend the night before your show in Nashville. I’m in charge of setting it up. I leave first thing in the morning. Act surprised.”
I am surprised. I’m in fucking shock.
I have a gold single.
This is huge, and not just for me. Since she wrote the song, my sister will get a nice, fat royalty check, which, in a way, helps me feel like I’m still taking care of her as much as I possibly can.
Robyn is grinning like a maniac and I assume I am, too. But there’s something else in her eyes. Worry, or anxiety, or . . . something.
“So you have to go to Tennessee tomorrow?”
“Yep. I have one week to plan this thing so they want me on it as soon as possible. Tell Dixie I’m sorry. Katie will take care of the Midnight Bay and VIP sections tomorrow night. I’m hoping she’ll take care of my mom, too. She was really excited about meeting Jase.”
I let out a loud groan of protest. “God. Even Belinda likes him more than me? Christ. That woman used to make me grilled cheese sandwiches. I even ate them if she burned them black. Still, I come second to Wade?”
“Er, no, babe. I think you’re like fourth on my mom’s list. There’s Wade. Then Luke Bryan and George Strait.”
I hold my hands over my heart like I’ve been shot. “You are not funny.”
“I’m just being honest.”
“Kick a man while he’s down, why don’t ya?”
“You, Dallas Lark, are not down. Your single just went gold. We’re celebrating. And anyway, I prefer to lick a man while he’s down,” she says, catching me off guard by pouring a trickle of champagne down my stomach then licking it off my abs. And then lower. And then mother of all things holy, her sweet lips wrap around my cock and I slide my fingers into her still-damp hair. “Congratulations, Dallas,” she says seductively before taking my full length into her mouth.
I know she didn’t make my single go gold, but I’m overwhelmed with gratitude just because she exists. I came here feeling defeated and miserable and now . . . now I could take on the world. As long as she’s there beside me.
“Come here, baby,” I say, using brute force to pull her upward, past my cock, past my abs, and higher than my chest. When she yelps out a small sound of surprise at where I’ve placed her body, I let out a low, dark chuckle. “I never said thank you for the massage.”
“Yeah, it is. I know. I’m still in shock,” I say into the phone. “Thanks, Mr. Borscetti. I really appreciate that. Yes, sir. Sounds great.”
Robyn is already dressed when I disconnect the call with the head of my record label, which is a travesty since I had plans of reciprocation for how well she took care of me last night. I’ve never really had anyone else take care of me before. I’ve always been the caretaker. But last night Robyn bathed me, massaged me, and to celebrate my single’s success she blew my mind in ways I never thought she would allow. I’d hoped we could spend the day celebrating my gold single in bed but I’d turned on my phone and had a million missed calls to return.
And now she’s leaving, heading for Nashville while I’m stuck behind in Texas.
“This is a switch,” I say while walking out of her bedroom. “I’m staying home while you run off to the country music capital. Let me know if you decide to cut a record while you’re there.”
“I’ll do that. Have you seen my keys?”
“I think they were on the kitchen counter last night.”
“Thanks. Stay as long as you like but maybe put some pants on because Katie could come home at any time.” Robyn leans down and places a chaste kiss on my lips.
“I’m right behind you. I need to check in with Dixie, let her know to be watching for a royalty check, and try to stop by and see Gavin at work since he can’t make the show tonight.”
“Okay,” she says, her voice trailing out of the room as she continues the search for her keys.
“Everything okay, babe?” I ask once I’m dressed and Robyn has her keys in hand. “You late?”
“What?” Her eyes go so wide I feel like I’ve said something wrong, but I have no idea what it could be.
“You’re rushing around like a crazy person when you generally live by a tight and color-coded schedule. I was just wondering if you were running behind or something.”
“Oh.” Robyn breathes an audible sigh of relief. “No. I’m fine. Just a little stressed about this party. It’s a lot to plan in a short amount of time.”
“Got it. Well, if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”
“Thanks.” She smiles at me but she’s still behaving kind of strangely.
I lean in for a kiss and she lets me steal one, but then she pulls back. “You know, I was thinking.”
I can already feel the kiss of death coming on our arrangement. “Highly overrated, thinking. I don’t recommend it.”
“I’m serious. We said we’d keep this discreet, so at the party, maybe let’s just each do our thing. You mingle with your fans and I’ll focus on keeping everything running smoothly. Both of my bosses will be there so it might be in our best interest to just—”
“Pretend we don’t know each other?” I don’t mean to sound pissed, but when I said discreet I didn’t exactly mean hiding, either.
“No. I don’t mean that. That would be weird. Just no PDA at work functions. You tell anyone who asks that you’re single and focusing on your career and I’ll do the same. Like you did on the Ricky Ray show.”
“Heard that, did you?”
She nods, but there’s no judgment.
“You ashamed of me, Breeland?”
She rolls her eyes, but I’m only half-kidding.
“Don’t be silly, Dallas. Of course not. You know how proud I am of you. I just don’t want to get in your way at your party and I don’t want my bosses to suspect something inappropriate is going on and start asking questions. Technically they could fire me for this.”
“But then after the party we can get inappropriate, right? Say midnightish? My hotel room?”
“You’re incorrigible, Dallas Lark.”
“You’re fickle, Robyn Breeland.”
“Hey, that’s not true,” she says, placing a hand on her hip and jutting it out so I can’t walk past her. “Take that back, jerk.”
“Come on, woman. Last night you practically devoured me whole. Today you’re all distance and no PDA and making rules about what’s appropriate and what’s not.”
“I’m not trying to be coy or fickle or whatever. I’m doing you a favor.”
I nod. “Uh-huh. Well, for the record, I prefer the kind of favors you did me last night versus this rules-and-boundaries brand of favors.”
She shoves at my chest.
“I meant the massage. Why? What favor did you think I was referring to?”
“Check yourself before you wreck yourself, Lark,” she teases. Thankfully she lets me kiss her smart mouth once more before she heads out the door. “For real, though,” she begins again once I’ve walked her to her car, a cute sporty black Jetta I didn’t even know she owned. Fits her. Sleek, sophisticated, and petite enough to be called adorable. “I don’t want to cramp your style, Superstar.”
She’s mocking Mandy but I don’t blame her. I mock Mandy in my head all the time.
“You never cramp my style, Red,” I say, using Jase’s nickname for her just because he bugs me.
“Okay then, bad choice of words. I don’t want to hold you back or weigh you down. Lots of people are going to want a piece of you at this party, Dallas, and some of them it will benefit you to get to know. So I’m going to hang back behind the scenes where I belong and let you do your thing.”
“Whatever you say, babe.” I reach for her hand and pull her toward my truck. “I’ll drive you to the airport so you don’t have to pay for long-term parking.”
“You sure?”
“Yep. Hop in.”
When we get to the airport I can only walk her to the security gate. We stop and she gives me a quick hug. “See you in a week. Have a great show tonight. Make sure my mom doesn’t run off with Jase Wade.”
“Will do,” I promise. “And hey, about what you said, about holding me back or weighing me down?”
Her brow crinkles. “Yeah?”
“That’s a load of malarkey and you know it, Breeland. If anything, you keep me grounded so all of this craziness doesn’t go to my head.”
She smiles. “Well, someone has to.”
28 | Dallas
SOUND CHECK AT THE GEXA ENERGY PAVILION DOESN’T TAKE TOO long and I’m glad. Dixie texted earlier that she’d come early and she’s bringing Robyn’s mom. I’ve always loved Belinda Breeland like she was my own mother and I wasn’t kidding when I said I was wounded at the thought of her liking Jase Wade more than me. I never claimed to be mature. Blame the testosterone.
I brought Belinda a giant box of her favorite Godiva chocolates. Maybe she’s still a little mad at me for not working things out with Robyn back in the day, but I am determined to win her over.
After I’ve put my guitar aside and cleared the stage so Wade could warm up, I head back to my bus in hopes of catching a quick nap before the show. Feels like I haven’t slept in a month.
Halfway there I see my sister and Belinda making their way backstage and I stop dead in my tracks.
“Stop gaping at me like I’m about to faint dead away, Dallas Lark,” Belinda says to greet me. “I’m fine. I’ve been in remission for months now. I just wear the scarves still because I like them and I’m not used to the short hair.”
She’s about twenty pounds thinner than I remember and even with the scarf I can tell that her once-long red locks are now cropped in a short pixie cut. She didn’t come to Papa’s funeral. Robyn mentioned that she was ill and couldn’t make it. I thought she meant like a cold or something.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know . . .”
“That I was in remission? Surely Robyn told you.” She shakes her head. “That girl acts like I’m going to relapse any second, though. You should see the stuff she makes me eat.” Belinda laughs lightly, probably hoping to break the tension I’ve suddenly created with my inability to conceal my shock. “When the doctors gave us the lists of restricted and recommended foods, you would’ve thought they were handing her a dietary Bible.”
Apparently I could fill a fucking book with the things Robyn hasn’t told me. The pieces of the puzzle that is Robyn Breeland are beginning to take shape in my head. The food. The obsession with healthy eating and all her overzealous ordering habits.
“Oh my God,” Belinda practically squeals, sounding more like a teenage girl than a grown woman. “There he is. Can we get closer to the stage?”
Dixie and I both follow her line of sight to where Wade is now warming up.
Grrr.
For this woman, though, the one who made me homemade chicken noodle soup when I had the flu, I’ll endure it.
“Come on,” I say, offering her my arm. “I can do better than closer to the stage.”
Once I’ve escorted them both past security and up the stairs to the restricted backstage area, I tug my sister’s elbow and pull her aside.
“Tell me what the hell is going on.” I nod toward Belinda.
Dixie shrugs. “She’s a huge fan of his—”
“I’m not talking about that.” My jaw clenches and I have to swallow several times to get my emotions in check. “Remission. When did she have cancer? Did you know? Did Robyn tell you?”
Dixie and I have had our communication issues lately. She keeps the details of her relationship with Gavin off my radar and I haven’t exactly filled her in on what Robyn and I are up to. But if she tells me right now that she’s known all this time that Robyn’s mom had cancer and she didn’t tell me, I don’t know how I’m going to keep from losing my shit.
“She didn’t tell me, either,” Dixie informs me, choosing to answer my last question first. “Belinda seems to think we knew. I practically yelled at her on the way here. Obviously if we’d known we would’ve been there, would’ve visited her in the hospital.”
I watch the woman with stars in her eyes staring at Wade onstage. She turns to me and gives me two thumbs up and she looks so much like her daughter I’m struck with a pang of longing. I want Robyn here. Mostly so I can demand to know why she didn’t tell me her mom had cancer, but also because I want to hold her. To kiss her and tell her I’m sorry I wasn’t there for her, for both of them.
After Robyn’s dad died I made sure to cut their grass, change the oil in their cars, and take out the garbage as often as I could. I wanted to make sure they didn’t have to feel his loss in those ways as well. Belinda eventually “fired” me and told me I wasn’t the hired help before she hired actual help to take over the landscaping duties. She told me the McKinley boys at the garage could change her oil just fine.
Those Breeland women. Self-sufficient pains in my ass they are. But God help me, I fucking love them.
“How bad was it?”
Dixie’s mouth tightens at the corners. “Bad. She had to do two rounds of chemo. Had an awful reaction and didn’t respond to the first round well at all.”
“When?”
I don’t know why I’m asking. I already know.
“That summer,” Dixie says softly, almost so softly I don’t hear her over Jase’s guitar.
She doesn’t clarify which summer. She doesn’t have to. The summer before I turned twenty-one, Robyn began acting strangely. Up until then, she’d done all the social media and online outreach for the band. She’d gone overboard in her typical way, acting as our manager and our agent even though she didn’t know a whole lot about the music business. What she did know was how to reach people and to this day I’m certain she is one of the main reasons we had such a large local following.
We were planning a six-week tour between Dixie’s junior and senior year of high school. Mostly just the tristate area, but a big deal for Leaving Amarillo since it was our first time actually going on “tour.” Robyn was all set to go with us and she was so excited about being on the road. She had this whole list of places we were going to go in each city we were scheduled to play in, a road trip music mix, and enough snacks stockpiled to feed a football team.
Then she bailed. Said she had decided to take a few summer classes and she stopped answering my calls. Eventually I got frustrated and drove down to see her at school. Except she wasn’t there.
When I showed up at her house and confronted her, her eyes filled with tears and she broke down. Said she just couldn’t do it anymore. I needed to focus on the band and she had other obligations. I’d assumed she meant school obligations. She’d always been such an academic overachiever.
From that night on her porch until now I have imagined a thousand scenarios that caused Robyn to end it. I can’t even count the nights I lay awake wondering.
Was there another guy?
Did she finally decide I wasn’t worth waiting for? That I was just going to spend my life chasing a dream I’d never catch?
I’d refused to leave her porch that night until the sun peeked over the horizon.
“Just tell me what I did. I can fix it, baby. Please.”
I’d been fucking pathetic.
“You can’t,” she’d said a dozen times. “No one can.”
The more I’d pressed, the more she’d closed herself off to me.
“Just come with me,” I’d begged. “We have a show in Fort Worth tomorrow night. Sunday we can go to that museum like you wanted.” I’d never given two fucks about visiting art museums, but I’d suffered through a couple for her. She’d get so excited. While she was looking at paintings I couldn’t make heads or tails of, I’d be watching her. The way her eyes would light up and her mouth would drop open just slightly as she stared in awe at each work.
For a moment, I thought I’d had her. She got that look, the same one she got when she looked at her favorite paintings. Then her expression blanked, her eyes lost their light, and she shook her head.
“I can’t, Dallas. Life on the road is your thing. Not mine.” She wouldn’t even meet my eyes when she said it.
I’d wondered briefly that if maybe I had more money, if the band were more successful, if I could promise her fancy hotels and room service instead of leftover pizza and Cracker Jacks in a van, if that would’ve mattered. But I’d never known her to be materialistic and up until then she’d seemed fine with the lack of luxury accommodations.
But as we said goodbye for the final time, my insecurities took over and I decided that she’d simply gotten tired of my shit and finally lost faith. In the band. In me. In us.
There was always a possibility the band would never take off, never “make it,” so to speak.
I’d had a choice to make.
I could let her down or let her go.
Standing here now, staring at the woman she loves most in the world and half-listening while Dixie details the hell that was Robyn and Belinda’s life that summer, I know I chose wrong.
