Текст книги "Loving Dallas"
Автор книги: Caisey Quinn
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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
35 | Dallas
I SPENT THE WEEKEND LYING LOW BUT WHEN I WAKE UP MONDAY morning, my vision is still blurry and my head has a heartbeat of its very own. Hangovers don’t typically linger for more than a day. But then, I’m not usually beat to hell and back from duking it out with Jase Wade, either.
She hasn’t called. Or texted. Or sent smoke signals. Nothing.
I’ve called and left voice mails and texted to the point that she could probably file a valid harassment suit against me.
I take my daily dose of extra-strength Tylenol, then some migraine medicine for good measure, and stumble to the bathroom. After a long, hot shower I feel marginally better. Still sore and tired, but human at least. Today I leave for Mexico and I still haven’t talked to Robyn. I owe her an apology and I’ve decided that even if I have to swallow a year’s worth of pride to do it, I am going to tell her that I’m happy for her. Deep down I am. Deep, deep down.
Telling her goodbye is going to suck. Telling her goodbye and knowing I’m leaving the girl I’ve thought of as mine on some level for the past seven years to some other bastard is going to suck hairy gorilla nuts. But it’s the least I can do.
Getting dressed I think about the night she slapped me at the diner in Denver and the amazing sex that followed. If not for her and that night, I wouldn’t have written “Tough All Over,” it wouldn’t be the headlining track on my upcoming album, and I probably wouldn’t be going on this tour.
Memories of our amazing night in New Orleans and her celebrating my single’s success with me fill my head as I pack the rest of my belongings into my bag.
This is my life, I might as well get used to it. Strangely enough, it isn’t the shows I keep remembering from each city. It’s the time I spent with her. The shows she didn’t attend are hardly even memorable. I played, I grabbed some food and beer, and crashed alone. Without Robyn in my life, it’s black-and-white. All work and no play. Which is odd since technically I “play” for a living. But when she’s there, my world is in brilliant color.
Fuck.
I knew in New Orleans, and maybe I knew even before that. But damn it to hell, I love her. Not like I love my fans or my sister or my job or my music. I am crazy head over ass in fucking obsessive love with her. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I’m leaving the country, for fuck’s sakes. I can’t exactly ask her to wait a decade or so while I make music until people get tired of me. She deserves better than that and it sounds like she found it.
I want to see her, to go to her place and apologize and lay my heart on the line. But now that it’s time, I’m chickening out for fear of two possible outcomes. One, her new man is there and I kill him and go to jail instead of on tour. Two, she feels the same way and dumps her new man and spends her life sitting around waiting on me to finish living my dream.
Neither of those feels right.
Not really.
So I pull out my phone and take the mangina way out. Texting. Which was probably invented by a coward who’d acted like a jackass and needed to apologize to some girl but didn’t have the balls to do it on the phone or in person. Cowards unite, Dude.
I’m sorry for being such an ass. I understand why you haven’t called me back. I’m happy for you and I should’ve said that instead of storming out. Tell your new guy he’s lucky I’m leaving the country and that he better treat you right.
When she doesn’t reply, I send one more—one that says three words I should have told her in person—and then I shut my phone off because I’ve become too much of a pussy to even handle her goodbye.
“I’m so glad the label decided to add Rio to the tour. The food is amazing, the people are beautiful, and wait until you see the water. It’s this incredible shade of aquamarine and so clear you wouldn’t believe it.”
Mandy prattles on in the back of the town car that’s taking us to the airport. I couldn’t give two fucks about leaving the country right now. Or what color the water is anywhere. The only color I care about right now is emerald. The color of Robyn’s eyes. They darken to jade when I piss her off. And they’re lighter, peridot maybe, when they’re filled with tears.
Propping my elbow on the ledge of the tinted window, I stare out at Texas as it passes.
When we pull up to the Dallas–Fort Worth airport, the driver gets out and handles checking our luggage. I don’t have much. A guitar. Two suitcases full of clothes. Everything else will be handled by crew members.
“Come on, Superstar,” Mandy says, linking her arm with mine. The contact pisses me off.
“Enough with the superstar shit,” I say, ignoring the years of manners that have been ingrained in me.
Mandy jerks her arm loose and glares at me.
“Excuse me? Do you have a problem we need to handle, Dallas? Because right now, on the way to the biggest opportunity of your life, I can’t even imagine what could be putting you in such a bad mood.”
“Guess you aren’t very creative then,” I grumble, following the entourage with us toward a private security entrance we’ve been cleared for. Behind me I can already hear people losing their shit over Wade. Camera phones are flashing everywhere. I keep my sunglasses on and my head down.
“Hey,” she says, practically stomping her designer stiletto on the floor. “Talk to me. What’s the problem here?”
I don’t exactly have the words and if I did, she’d be the last person I’d share them with.
“I’m tired is all,” I say. “Sorry.”
“If you need to blow off some steam, it’s a long flight. Our seats are together. We could—”
“No,” I say too quickly. “No thanks, I mean.” Pass, Mandy. Hard fucking pass.
“You should know something, Dallas,” she murmurs low as she takes my arm again without my having offered it. “I always—and I mean always—get what I want.”
“Must be nice,” I say drily.
She huffs out a breath and whips her hair behind her. Within seconds she has her trusty cell phone out and is steadily ignoring my temperamental ass.
I’m lost in thought, when I hear someone calling my name. We’re almost to the security checkpoint so I ignore it, assuming it’s an overzealous fan who won’t be able to get through without a ticket. Our protective detail pulls in tighter so I can’t see who it is anyway.
But then I hear it again and I recognize the voice.
“Back up, fellas,” Wade tells the bodyguards from behind me. “He’ll want to see this one.”
I stop, causing several guys to bump into me. Mandy hisses something hateful under her breath but I don’t care.
Robyn is here. And she’s jumping up and down and calling my name and hand to God, she’s the best sight I’ve ever seen. Even if it’s just to say goodbye or piss off, I’ll take it.
“Hang on, baby,” I call out. “I’m coming.”
I make my way through the crowd over to the window wall she’s standing beside.
“Sorry,” she says when I finally reach her. “I didn’t mean to make a scene. I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you before you hit security and I wouldn’t be able to get through.”
“It’s fine. You okay?”
Her hair is in a messy ponytail, like she ran here from her apartment. Her face is flushed and her eyes are wide with panic.
“I will be. I just, I got your message and . . . maybe we should sit down.” She gestures to a round cushion thing next to a plant.
“Uh, babe? I don’t exactly have a lot of time.” I glance over to the small group that has remained behind to wait for me. Mandy and a few security guys.
“Yeah. Of course. Right.” She looks nervous, terrified actually, but I can’t imagine why.
“Are you coming with us to Mexico?” Because that would be fan-fucking-tastic if she were.
“No,” she says softly. “I came here to see you before you left because I have to tell you something. Something that couldn’t wait three more months until you got back.”
“Okay. I’m all ears, darlin’.”
Say there isn’t really someone else. Say you ended that because you don’t love him like you love me. Say you’ll come with me on tour.
Her chest rises and falls with deep breaths. I reach out and take her hands.
“Robyn, whatever it is, it’s okay. Just tell me.”
Unless you’re getting married. Then don’t tell me. Just shove me out this plate glass wall instead.
She sucks in one more breath and presses her gaze into mine. “Did you mean it? The text?”
I nod. “I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you. I’m a fucking idiot.” I run a hand over my head. “I told myself if I ever got another chance I’d fight for you, no matter what. The way I should have that summer. If I hadn’t walked away, if I’d—”
“I love you, too, Dallas Walker Lark,” she announces. “I love you and because I love you, your dreams are as important to me as my own. And that’s why I didn’t tell you about my mom. That’s why I ended things that summer—because I couldn’t stand the thought of being the reason you missed out on something you wanted, something you’d dreamed of and worked so hard for. But looking back, I could’ve handled it better. I should’ve told you the truth. I’m not a scared kid anymore and I’m not going to make that same mistake again.” She pauses to pull in more air and either I’m imagining it or she’s trembling before me. “I’m pregnant, Dallas. That’s the someone else. We’re having a baby and I was terrified to tell you because I didn’t want to mess up your life right in the middle of all of your dreams coming true.”
She lost me at pregnant.
I should say something. But I can’t find any words.
I’m just standing here, staring blankly. You know that feeling, when a limb falls asleep from lack of blood flow and the numbness is like a thousand pinpricks? That’s how my face feels right now. It’s like when I had writer’s block. Like staring at a blank page and knowing there should be lyrics on it but having lost all ability to combine letters to make words.
“So . . .” she says, biting her lower lip. “There’s that.”
I can barely hear her over the white noise in my head.
“I . . . you’re . . . we’re . . .”
Yep. That’s what I came up with.
“Pregnant,” she says slowly. “And I promised your sister I wouldn’t do this, but you look like you’re about to pass out, so I’m going to anyway.”
“My sister?” I choke out.
“Yeah. I told her first to see if she thought I should tell you now or wait.”
My face is numb. A thousand invisible needles are pricking the hell out of it. “Okay.”
“Maybe I should’ve waited,” she says softly. “But, Dallas, I don’t want to be the reason you punch out Jase Wade. Or the reason you miss out on this tour. This is huge. Your career is growing astronomically at a rate most people can only dream of. I am so proud of you. So believe me when I say, I didn’t come here to tell you this so that you’d stay behind or whatever. Go. Live your dream and show those people how we do music in Texas. I will be here when you get home and we can talk. But know that if you decide you don’t want this, me or the baby—both or either—that’s okay. I’m okay. I can do this on my own. You can be as involved or as uninvolved as you like. That’s what I invited you over to dinner to tell you. Then you told me about the tour and you were so excited and I didn’t want to piss on your parade, so to speak. But I won’t make the same mistake I made when I didn’t tell you about my mom.”
“So there isn’t someone else?”
There you are, words! Finally.
Robyn shakes her head slowly. “Well, technically there is, but he isn’t born yet.”
“He?” Christ, I hear my own voice crack.
“I don’t really know for sure,” she tells me. “But it feels like a he to me. I’ll find out in about six to eight weeks. I’ll text you. I can even send the ultrasound picture. If you want me to, that is.”
“Denver,” I say, finally putting the pieces together as my brain catches up. We weren’t careful. Several times.
“Yeah. Denver. And I take full responsibility because I missed two birth control pills that week. I didn’t even realize it until later. So this is on me. I am not upset. If anyone was going to knock me up, I’m glad it’s you. I am just so sorry that I have to put this on you when so many amazing things are happening in your life.”
“Don’t do that. I was there, too. Don’t be fucking sorry.” The command comes out harsher than I mean for it to and Robyn flinches.
“Dallas,” Mandy calls out from behind me. “We need to get moving.”
“You should go,” Robyn tells me. “Don’t want to miss your flight.”
I drive my hands into my hair and leave them on top of my head. My head is shaking back and forth. Go? I can’t go. I can’t leave her. I won’t. What the fucking fuck is happening to my life right now?
“I just . . . I thought you’d met someone. I thought you and Wade—”
“No,” Robyn says, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. “There’s never really been anyone else for me, Dallas. I kind of thought you knew that by now.”
That feels so damn good to hear, I feel like I could sprint to Mexico.
“Dallas!” Mandy barks again. “Time to go!”
“Wait,” I say more to Robyn than Mandy. “Then how’d you know I punched him? Wade tell you?”
“She mentioned it,” Robyn informs me, nodding at my manager, who’s growing more impatient by the second. “When she dropped by my place to tell me to stay away from you.”
The fuck?
“She what?”
“She’s also the one who told Dixie to sit out the encore at the showcase in Nashville. Said she was holding you back. You might want to discuss that with her.”
My blood pressure rises so high I can feel it. Dixie’s hang-up about holding me back makes so much more sense now.
“Dixie tell you this?”
Robyn nods. “I’m happy for you, Dallas. I am. And I meant what I said about being here when you get home. Regardless of what you decide. But one thing is for damn sure. You need a new manager. Like yesterday.”
She glances around me to glare at Mandy.
“You can say that again.”
“Okay, I will.” Robyn leans up and brushes her sweet little pouty lips past mine on her way to my ear. “You. Need. A. New. Manager.”
God her voice does it for me. I let my hands fall to her hips. “Message received, sweetheart.” I wink while simultaneously lowering my head to give her a kiss.
She pulls back before I make contact. I squeeze her hips firmly in protest.
“Let’s not do this here right now. Just take some time and think about what you want, okay? I love you, you know I do. But things are different now. We can’t do the casual hook-ups anymore. We’re going to be parents.”
“I’d argue we can hook up all the time since technically you can’t get any more pregnant.” I grin and she slaps me playfully on the chest.
“I’m being serious, Dallas. I mean it. I don’t want you in our lives because you feel obligated or something. I want you to think long and hard about what you want. Okay? Promise me?”
“I promise. But I want you, baby. I’ve always wanted you and I will always want you. I already know that. I’ve known that for a long time now.”
Robyn makes a sound like I’ve kicked her and there are tears forming in her eyes.
“It’s not just me anymore, okay? And it’s one thing to say that and another to mean it.”
I can already picture her growing round with my baby in her belly and fucking hell, I’ve never really had a hard-on for pregnant women, but this one, this one being round with my baby is about to push me over the edge in a crowded airport.
“I love you, Robyn Breeland. And I’ll come home as soon as I can so that I can show you just how much I want you and all that comes with you. Or . . . tell me to stay. You need me to stay, pretty girl? Say the word and I’ll tell them to go on without me.”
And now she’s crying.
“Dallas!” Mandy has lost her patience and marched over into our moment. “We have to go right now.”
“No, Dallas. I couldn’t live with myself if this held you back from your dream. Go. I’m fine,” Robyn says through her tears. I wipe them with my thumbs and kiss her gently.
“There. She said go. Let’s go,” Mandy demands.
“I’m on my way.” I turn my attention back to my girl. “You’ll text me every update?”
“I will. Promise.”
I steal one last kiss. And then another. And then one more, until Robyn pushes me toward the escalator.
The numbness wears off and reality settles in as I make my way through security check.
I’m having a baby.
With Robyn.
I’m going to be a dad.
I couldn’t be more ill-equipped if the pilot announced we had to jump from the plane.
36 | Dallas
“WHAT IN THE EVER-LOVING HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM, DALLAS?” Mandy’s shrill voice greets me as soon as I step foot offstage. I’ve barely pulled my in-ears out when she starts in on me. “You’ve been avoiding me since this leg of the tour began and now you’re performing like a brain-dead zombie out there. Care to tell me what exactly is going on with you?”
I rub my throbbing head for a solid minute while she waits for my response. What exactly is going on with me, she wants to know. I can only imagine her face if I gave her an honest answer.
“Not particularly,” I tell her while pulling out my phone to see if Robyn’s sent any more updates. Nothing since last night. I frown at the screen.
“So help me, God, I will have your phone cut the fuck off if you don’t put that away and give me a straight damn answer.”
“Easy, Lantram. Damn,” Jase Wade calls out from behind her as he approaches. “This is a chill zone and I need to get in the right head space before going onstage. Give the kid a break, will you?”
She glares at the both of us before pointing a finger at me. “Get your shit together, Dallas Walker. I mean it. You are replaceable. Keep that in mind.”
I stare blankly after her as she storms off and I slide my phone into my back pocket.
She’s right. Dallas Walker is replaceable. Hell, Dallas Walker doesn’t even really exist.
I glance at the leather pants I hate, the boots I never would’ve bought myself, and the torn T-shirt she said “enhanced my edge”—whatever the fuck that is.
I don’t even know who Dallas Walker is. And I don’t think I even like his ass.
“You all right, kid?” Jase Wade kicks my boot, startling me out of my stupor. “ ’Cause Lantram wasn’t entirely out of line for once. You have seemed pretty fucking out of it since we left the States.”
“Yeah. I’m great. Jet lag,” I lie. Mexico was a blur. Canada was a blink. I just played my first show in Rio and I can’t remember a single second of it.
“Nothing to do with a certain redhead we both know?”
His mention of Robyn surprises me and brings out a primal surge of protectiveness. “I know her a hell of a lot better than you do.”
Wade laughs at my outburst. “Easy, killer. I know you do. That wasn’t my name she was shouting across the airport. I gotta say, after a scene like that, I’m kind of surprised you made it here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“Honestly? Girl looked like she was about to propose to you. I figured you’d be on your honeymoon by now.”
I snort, but there’s a part of me that wishes he were right. Brazil is beautiful. Colorful and vibrant like Mandy promised. But all I can think about is the way Robyn came alive in New Orleans. How she’d dance in the streets here, too, and moan about the food in a way that would have me hauling her back to our hotel room at lightning speed.
If I don’t tell someone, I’m going to explode before sound check.
“She’s pregnant,” I say quietly so none of the road crew members hear. “With my baby.”
“Ah. Congratulations.” Wade claps my shoulder hard and shakes my hand. I feel the maniacal grin spreading across my face.
“We’ll find out the sex of the baby this weekend. She’s going to text me the ultrasound photo.”
At that, he frowns. “Text, huh?”
I nod. It sucks but what else can we do?
“You know, I got a lot of updates about my daughter via text message, too.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “That she was taking ballet. When my wife found out she was allergic to strawberries. Several years’ worth of school pictures. Dance recital videos.”
He lets out a low sound, laughter devoid of humor, as if he’s forgotten I’m even in the room.
“Hell, I even got the ‘Jase, I want a divorce and full custody’ update via text message. Gotta love technology, right?”
I don’t miss his hidden meaning. “You trying to tell me something, Wade?”
“Not at all.” He shakes his head like he feels sorry for me. “I’m too busy trying to figure out what the hell you’re still doing here.”
“She told me to come. She said not to put my dreams on hold for this and that she’s fine. She can do this part without me.”
Again he gives me this look, like I’m a complete and total dumbass.
“I got news for you, kid. She can do all of it without you. The part you were needed for has already come and gone, so to speak.” He claps me on the shoulder again and turns to leave. “Have a good show. And when you get that text message telling you that she’s moved on, found someone who’ll hold her hand during the ultrasound and be there when she hears the baby’s heartbeat for the first time, call me and I’ll buy you a beer.”
“That won’t happen to us. She understands. We got this.”
“Then do something for me. Picture her sitting all alone in the waiting room watching all those moms-to-be with their husbands next to them. Imagine what that must feel like for her. Picture her going into labor while you’re onstage somewhere and no one can get in touch with you to tell you until after your show. Picture your kid’s first birthday party and imagine attending it via FaceTime on your phone because you’re in some godforsaken city three thousand miles away.”
Christ. I can picture all of that. His words come to life behind my eyes and there’s a pang deep in my chest.
“Now picture her face. Picture her raising your child by herself while you live your dream. Picture her seeing thousands of fans commenting online about how badly they want you and posting pictures of you with them in bars and buses and at parties. Tell me that girl understands. She’s a tough chick. Maybe she does understand. But just because she understands doesn’t mean she can live that life. It’s lonely and most women don’t do lonely well. For that matter, who does?”
“I have been picturing that,” I practically yell at him. “Every second of the damn day and night. It’s why I look like a member of the living dead onstage. But what am I supposed to do? Just walk away from everything I worked for? Give up my dreams to sit in waiting rooms and at birthday parties? Because I’m thinking I could give my kid a hell of a lot better life on this income than if I go home to Amarillo and work in construction. I don’t see you running home to the missus.”
Shit. That was low. The guy told me about his divorce and his ex-wife getting remarried recently. But I can’t help it. I’m in an impossible situation and I know it.
Wade leans down, putting his face level with mine. “If I had it to do over again, I would run home before you could say my name three times fast. But you’re right. These are the decisions you have to make. Sacrifices. No one said it would be easy.” He straightens, nodding at someone who’s entered the backstage area to announce that it’s time for him to go on. “Good luck to you, kid.”
I hear the unmistakable click of heels coming toward my room, then a knock rattles my door. I highly doubt I have groupies in Rio de Janeiro, so that only leaves one person.
“There you are,” Mandy says, sliding open my door and slapping me with a hate-filled glare. I switched seats with my drummer on the plane so I didn’t have to deal with her. She wasn’t too thrilled about it.
“Here I am,” I say evenly.
“So I heard you have big news. I’d say congratulations, but I figured we’d find another way to celebrate.”
She pulls a bottle of champagne from behind her back and it’s like a twisted scenario of when Robyn helped me celebrate “Better to Burn” going gold.
“Celebrate whatever it is for me. I’m pretty beat. Jet lag. You understand.”
Her eyes narrow on me and she stalks over to my bed. I wasn’t ready to discuss Robyn and the pregnancy so I’ve been avoiding my manager mostly. And I was angry about how she treated Dixie and afraid I’d lose my temper. But it looks like she’s going to force a confrontation so it must be time to get it all out in the open.
“Dallas, I’m going to try my best to make something very clear to you.” She sits down and I fight the impulse to shove her into the floor. “I have a very special relationship with my clients. One that allows me to become as close to them as I possibly can. It makes for a much more symbiotic relationship, in my opinion.”
“Meaning you fuck all of them, right?” Afton Tate mentioned this to me on the unsigned artists tour. He turned her down so she wouldn’t sign him.
“Meaning we don’t keep secrets from each other. Meaning I know everything about their lives so that if they knock up some random hanger-on from their hometown I can do what needs to be done before it affects their career. Do you understand?”
“Wade talk to you?”
She nods. “He was my client once. He knows how important it is to me to know what’s going on with my clients.”
“For you to know about it, Mandy? Or for you to try and control it? Because the way I see it, you told my sister to sit out in Nashville, then you told my pregnant girlfriend to stay away from me. What I can’t figure out is why you think either of those women is any of your business.”
“You are my business, Dallas. So anything or anyone that affects you is my business. If I hadn’t told your sister to sit out that number, you wouldn’t be here right now. And if your girlfriend, or whatever she is, hadn’t gotten knocked up and trapped you in a relationship, I wouldn’t be having to try and contact every one I know who can help us frame this in a more positive light.”
“Don’t bother. Far as I’m concerned, you’re fired anyway.” I stand and walk over to the door. “Here. Let me walk you out.”
Mandy stands, staring at me like I’ve said I want to rap folk music with a gospel choir. “Are you insane? Do you really want to throw all of this away? After how hard we’ve worked for this? You signed a contract. I can sue you.”
“How hard I’ve worked, you mean? And no, I don’t plan to throw everything away. Just you. Sue away, sweetheart.”
I don’t bother waiting for her witty comeback. I just guide her gently out of my room and close the door behind her.
