Just One Summer

Chapter Four

Ugh, the hangover to end all hangovers. I glanced around to make sure I was, in fact, in my own room and not waking up in someplace I’d regret. The dark purple comforter half covering my body slid to the floor. Black dresser with white drawers near the window, lamp with black shade on the nightstand, and a bookcase with rocks, leaves, and various colored carabiners filled each shelf. I smiled at my trophies, each taken or left over from a climb or jump or whatever adventure I had survived. Yep, made it home.

I closed my eyes to block out the sunlight breaking through the blinds. The night before flicked in and out like a blurry slideshow on my eyelids. After breaking my cell, I had pushed through the fans and photographers outside the theater and climbed on my scooter. The graduation party had been in a hidden cove south of town. The bonfire had licked the sky, and the alcohol had flowed like water. Things had gotten fuzzy really fast. I vaguely remembered midnight skiing, Jell-O shots, and a fire jump. Wait, had I tried to jump through the bonfire? I grabbed my hair and smoothed my hands over the strands. No damage. That was a massive relief. Then another question hit me. How had I gotten home?

The pounding on my bedroom door only intensified the pounding in my head. It was like a crew of miners were trapped inside my skull, and they were using every tool at their disposal to get out. Maybe that last round of quarters had been a bad idea after all.

“Carly May Reynolds, get your ass out here right now!” Dad didn’t need to yell so loud.

I rolled off the bed, tangling myself in the sheets and comforter. At least I’d had the forethought to change into my usual sleepwear – a tank and boxers.

“Yeah?” I asked after I yanked the door open. “What’d I do this time?”

If Dad’s face turned any redder, he could be mistaken for jolly. Although that was highly unlikely at the moment.

“Do you know what time it is, young lady?”

“No idea, Pops. I was dead asleep.” My sarcasm wouldn’t be suppressed by a mere hangover.

He pointed to his watch like I could see it. I’d left my contacts in all night so everything looked dry. After blinking several times, he finally came into focus.

“It’s one in the afternoon, Carly.” He rubbed his hand over his extended forehead. “Albert Ford called and said you hadn’t shown up yet.”

I waited for more, because with my father there was always a long pause before the indictments came. He stared me in the eye. I did my best not to flinch or look away. Chalk it up to another failure on my part, because I couldn’t handle the unsaid accusations. Especially since I was totally guilty on all charges.

“Just get dressed, Carly. I’ll drop you off at the theater.” He turned around, and I kept waiting for the ball to drop. “I’m sure you’ll find a ride home after the show tonight.”

Dad walked down the hallway, stomped down the steps, and didn’t say another word. Never in my life had I gotten off so easy. Never in my life had I felt worse, either. I showered in record time and didn’t even bother with makeup. Nobody to impress anyway.

The ride to the theater was silent, but the tension tasted like unrealized expectations on my tongue. Dad parked in the loading zone by the stage door. The car idled while I tried to come up with a feasible explanation. I hated lying. Usually twisting the truth to my family was a necessary evil, but I couldn’t come up with anything that would make sense. Maybe it was time I apologized for being such a selfish dolt.

“Dad –”

“I don’t want to hear it, Carly.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “We’ve been doing this for years, and it doesn’t matter what you say anymore. I’m tired of bailing you out. It’s time you learn that your actions have consequences.” He turned and stared at me, searching my face for something. Maybe the little girl he’d lost long ago. His shoulders dropped, and he sounded tired. “Just get to work.”

Swallowing the lump of guilt in my throat, I nodded and got out of the car. The door had barely closed before he backed away. I watched my father drive off. Not once did he even glance back in the rearview mirror.

Nobody said a word as I shuffled toward Gracin’s dressing room. This was the last place I wanted to be. Outside the door, I heard the distinct sound of an argument. At least someone else’s problems would be a distraction from my own. I pressed my ear to get a better idea of what was going on. It helped that hangovers amplified all sound.

“That’s final. How many times do I have to tell you this?” Albert Ford’s distinct timbre enunciated each word. “Stick with the set list. Don’t even think about deviating from it.”

“I just wanted –”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, boy. When will you get that through your thick head?” Albert paused before a heartless chuckle left his lips. “It matters what the crowd wants. Your opinion means shit.”

I opened the door without knocking. Gracin may be a d**k, but his father shouldn’t talk to him like that.

“Oh, sorry.” It was pretty clear I wasn’t. “I guess I should’ve knocked first, but I’m running late –”

Albert turned on me. “Don’t be late again, Miss Reynolds. I won’t tolerate such behavior from my employees.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t work for you then, Mr. Ford,” I snapped and pointed to the white embroidery on my turquoise polo.

That seemed to piss him off to the point he didn’t know what to say. It was a gift I didn’t mind bearing. Albert slammed the door behind him, rattling Gracin’s mirror, and sending a few of his assorted hats tumbling to the floor. I closed my eyes as the vibrations ricocheted around my head at lightspeed.

“Well, then,” I said, turning toward Gracin with a smile. It disappeared when I saw the anger building in his blue eyes. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare me a little. His gaze intensified, reminding me of something I’d not like to relive in his dressing room. So, I tried and failed to diffuse it. “I’m here.”

Gracin came at me like a tornado in a trailer park. He ripped the sunglasses off my face and grabbed my chin.

“Hey, unnecessary roughness,” I whimpered. My legs weakened as his fingers burned into my skin. Memories swirled, raising bile in my throat. I pushed them back down with a heavy gulp.  

“A little hungover, Carly?” Gracin c****d his head to the side. “Too much tequila?”

“Back off.” I tried to shake off his grip, but wooziness hit me wave after wave. He wasn’t holding me that hard either. His thumb rubbed over my jaw. My emotions joined the hangover dizziness. I closed my eyes, actually enjoying the softness of his skin. Then he opened his mouth, ruining everything.

“As long as you’re my personal assistant, you won’t drink. You won’t even look at alcohol the rest of the summer. If you f**k this up, I will tell your father and he will fire you. And if I understand the deal you made with him, you won’t go to U of N this fall.” Gracin let go of my chin and stepped back. “Now go home. I don’t need you today.”

I felt like a petulant child, and I didn’t like it one bit. And damn him for knowing the deal. “I’m fine.”

“Carly…” The way he let my name roll off his tongue sent shivers down my spine.

“I’m not leaving. It’s not the first time I’ve had to work with a massive hangover.”

“Make it the last.”

We stared at one another for a moment before I understood he wanted me to agree with him. Finally, I nodded.

“Good.” Gracin strode to the door with the grace of a gazelle. “Meet me at my cabin at six tomorrow morning. You’re going to start running with me.”

It took a minute to register, but when it did, my heart skipped a beat. “Excuse me?”

“You’re exhausted because you’re out of shape, and you need a different hobby. I run three to five miles every morning.” He glanced at me over his shoulder. “You’ll run with me. It’ll help.”

The door clicked behind him, but it might as well have slammed. Ow.

Not too many people can make me speechless. Gracin Ford seemed to be one. Out of shape my ass. I ran cross-country in the fall and track in the spring. I’d done it to pad my college applications but had no desire to become a professional marathon runner. I reached for my phone to text Gracin to go to hell before I remembered why it wasn’t in my pocket.

Dad’s voice rang in my head. “Give him whatever he wants, Carly. Make this the best place he’s ever played. We want a happy singer, not a pissy one.”

Dad wanted Gracin happy, which would make Dad happy. I’d have to do whatever it took to make my father proud of me again. Besides, there were worse things I could do than run with Gracin Ford. Running was actually fairly harmless. It also gave me a chance to show this guy what I was made of. Gracin thought I was some lazy alcoholic. Time to prove him wrong.

I loved a challenge, and Gracin Ford was going to find out how much.