A song for him

Chapter 7

Benton feels so much like home and I can’t wait to see Jill and Mike. I wonder whether she’ll ever tell him how she feels. He has a very soft spot for her and everyone notices, but both will deny it vehemently that there is even the remotest feeling of attraction.

Its late that Sunday evening and I am tempted to stay over at the lake house, but I also think it would be great if Roan had a sit down with Jordan.

He takes me straight to the apartment and I find Jill waiting up for me. I tell her every detail. We finish a bottle of wine as The Livery is closed on Mondays. She also gets into Roan and she tells me more about his parents’ accident and the many times he’s had to clean up after Jordan.

When I get my good night message from Roan, I feel its time for bed.

*Thank you.  For this weekend.  For listening.  For the encouragement and for being my  girlfriend.*  I literally want to scream about how happy I am, but manage to reply without sounding like an i***t.

*And I’m happy you’re my boyfriend. Thank you for the cottage and the memories it now holds for me.*

My contract is delivered on Tuesday afternoon. Mike helps me go through it and looks up at me when he goes through the clauses, “Have you seen this part?”

“What part?” I look at the section he is pointing to: The Artist will agree to touring as a supporting act for Jesse Lee for up to six months or until the Thanksgiving Day Parade in NYC, USA. Should The Artist not agree to those terms, Crown Country Records has the right to revoke the contract and declare it null and void. All profits made up until that point will be paid to The Artist, but thereafter will only to be exclusive to Crown Country Records in its entirety.

“Whoah.  Touring?  As a supporting act?”

Mike shrugs, “Guess they’re making sure you’re sellable before they put you out there on your own.”

I can’t just tour for three months!   What about Roan?

“I could always come back to Benton in between shows?” I look questioningly at Mike. 

“Don’t look at me.”  He offers uselessly.

“I know.  I’ll talk to him later.”

I message Roan to ask if we can speak later that evening. He doesn’t reply until much later that night and frankly, I’m too tired to discuss anything. The more I think about it, I imagine he wouldn’t stand in the way of me pursuing this. Like I mentioned to Mike, I could come back in between or he could come to where I am.

I drift off to sleep, my thoughts a blur of toned arms, blond happy trails and long kisses.

Its Wednesday morning and I am feeling as if I was up partying. I hadn’t slept very well, troubled by the decision I have to make.

I decide to go for a walk along the lake and then stop by the house to speak to Roan. Some fresh air might just help me clear things up.

The walk feels long and arduous, but its so beautiful out on the shore. The wind isn’t too strong and there are quite a few people out. I spot so many couples, hand in hand and remember to ask Roan why we never walk along the lake.

That’s when I realise what I need to do.

Just before I get to the house, I loosen my hair and shake it up a bit. I’ve worn my daisy dukes, which are Roan’s favourite and a t-shirt. When I stroll up the lawn towards the deck, he’s sitting there with Jordan, having coffee.

I increase my pace and he comes bounding towards me.  Gosh, he must really have missed me.

When he reaches me, his face is scrunched up, “What are you doing here?” 

“I went for a walk and then thought I’d stop by.”

“OK. I would’ve picked you up for lunch. Mike and Jill were talking about all of us heading to Puccini’s for pizza.”

“Oh. We could just go from here. Unless I get to dress up?” I smile, excited to just be seen anywhere with Roan.

I hear her before I see her and I get this sick, familiar feeling. “Roan?”  she calls out questioningly.

I try not to assume anything, but the look on his face is tense and he tries to speak. Usually, I would run, but instead, I move past him and head straight toward the tall, brown haired beauty standing with hands on bikini clad hips, a kimono covering barely anything. What is the point of that scrap of material anyway?

I extend my hand, “Hi. You must be a friend of Jordan’s?” I look to Jordan, who raises his hands in defense and makes a start to leave the table.

“No. Roan’s.” she says, shaking my hand like a limp fish. Well, s**t!

“Ah, I see.”

Roan is standing to the side of me, “Dillon?” I turn to face him, “Yeah?”

“Could we talk?”  he looks terrified, “Alone?”

I nod, a smile still plastered to my face. We walk to the cottage. Our cottage. “Who’s that?” I ask, still trying to be as calm as possible.

“Look, Tara’s a friend. She visits Benton for business from time to time. She got here yesterday evening, asking if she could stay over. She asked Mike first, but obviously you and Jill are upstairs at The Livery and he lives in a bachelor’s.”

“You’ve pulled me out back to tell me that she’s a friend?” 

“Dillon.  It was so long ago.”

“Ah!  There it is.”

“Yes, we dated, but it wasn’t serious.”

“Serious enough that she knows your friends.”

“I’m not explaining.”

“Fine. Don’t.”

I move towards the door to leave, but he stands between me and my way out. “If you run, I am coming after you.  I’m not your asshole ex.  Got it?”

“I got my contract yesterday. I came to tell you that it requires me to tour for six months.” 

“That’s great, Dillon!”  of course he’s happy for me.  He’s amazing that way.

“I think we should end things. Six months is a long time.” 

“What the f**k?”  he looked pissed now.

I can’t imagine him waiting that long for me.  Not with drop ins from Miss Legs.

“f**k this.” I say, managing to get to the door. He grabs me by the arms and spins me around, his mouth on mine, kissing me, hard, desperately. My treacherous body responds to his touch immediately.  Why does he have to be this hot?

He pulls away, holding me at arm’s length, “Nothing?” 

I lie, “Nothing.”

“Fine. Go. I won’t make you stay and I would’ve waited for you.” Yeah, with some company in between, I bet.

“I’m leaving.  Let me go.”  He is still holding on to me.

He reluctantly does and I leave his arms with a heavy heart.  As I walk down the gravel pathway, back up to the road, I realise I won’t touch him again, or feel his lips on mine. He was mine and I just lost him.

“I knew you wouldn’t stay in little old Benton for too long.” Jill says as I toss the last of my things into the Rabbit.

“What can I say? I’m officially a nomad now. Here.” I hand here the next month’s rent in an envelope.  I know she’ll be pissed, but I know she needs it.

“Dillon.  No, I can’t take this.”

“Its fine.  I gave you a minute’s notice.”

She hugs me fiercely, “Try not to forget us?”

I haven’t said anything to her about Roan, Tara or us breaking up. “I’ll try.” I wink at her.

My heart is breaking for the umpteenth time that day, knowing I’m leaving behind a real friend in Jill and perhaps the one person I probably loved in Roan.

As I drive off, I try hard not to cry, but the tears stream down my face at an alarming rate. I drive by his house and spy the truck in the yard, but I don’t stop. I have to keep moving. This is my chance at something steady, but why does it feel so wrong?

Nashville is stuffy and the hotel I’m staying in is over the top. The walls are covered in gold silk and there are flowers everywhere.  I hate it.

“There you are!” Jesse’s voice calls from the joint suite door. 

“Oh, hey Jesse.”

“Aren’t you thrilled to be doing this?”

“I thought I would be doing more of the festival scene.”

“Oh, honey, no.” she laughs, “We’re the big time. Lights, gimmicks and sparkles. Lots of sparkles!” God, please take me now!

“My stylist is coming around later to get your sizing and then we’re being honoured with a visit from Ken Pavis! Can you believe it? He does Jessica Simpson’s hair!” she coo’s. Jesse’s red poofy do suddenly catches my eye and I dread the hair stylist’s visit.

“When is my first performance?”

“Its this weekend.  Here in Nashville.   At the Woodridge Arena.  Its sold out!”

She rambles on about how it’s the first concert to sell out in years. Suddenly Jesse’s sparkle is a bit too bling for my liking.  Too late now.

“You look great!” Jesse beams as I step out behind the screen. I have been pimped and preened for her show. My hair is curled into ringlets and I have on so much lip gloss, it feels as if my lips are oozing.

I’m wearing daisy dukes and cowboy boots with a denim shirt. My guitar is not my guitar, it’s a*****e bought contraption, sprayed a garish pink with rhinestones.

“You look country!”  she squeals!

“Yee-haw.”  I try to say it without sarcasm, but clearly fail.

“Dillon. You’re being given the opportunity of a life time. You haven’t had to stand in the scorching heat, waiting to audition in front of four talentless judges, just to be told you’re too bohemian and belong in a coffee shop.  I picked you.”

What have I gotten myself into?