Chapter 8
B lue didn’t tell Anne about the guy with the business card. He didn’t tell anyone else. He just put it in a drawer and tried to forget about it. Disappointment was one thing he didn’t need. He already had a boatload of it.
One application after another was turned in, and he waited, but no one called.
Did they even have paper routes anymore?
He’d had friends who’d done those when he was growing up, but even that looked good.
There was no money―none. Anne bought him some groceries, but he had water and electric bills coming due, as well as his house payment.
Being the shithole it was, the house payment wasn’t much, but it was money he didn’t have.
At least Anne wasn’t having to watch Indigo.
Since he wasn’t working, he was home with her all the time.
And the more time he spent with her, the more he loved her. She was funny and cute and, from what little he knew about babies, a pretty good one. She rarely ever cried and when she did, it was fairly easy to figure out what was wrong.
The only bright spots in his life were the kids and Anne.
Since Anne was working and he wasn’t, Polly and Toady started coming over to his house every evening so they weren’t alone.
They were a big help with Indigo, and he made sure they had their homework done.
He ran back and forth to her house while they were there, starting loads of laundry, picking up, and cleaning here and there.
If she was going to help him, that was the least he could do for her.
A week dragged by, and then two. Nothing cracked open, and Blue could feel depression settling on him like a big wet blanket.
Getting up in the mornings was hard, but he had to.
He had a baby to take care of, and there was no sleeping in.
Several time he fed her and got her down for a nap, then just crawled into the bed.
There was nothing for him to do. He stopped looking for work too. There was nothing out there.
They were closing out their last set that Saturday night when Blue looked out across the bar and saw the man again.
What was his name? he thought. All he could remember was Alexander.
And sure enough, when they were finished, the man made his way toward Blue.
He heard Devon whisper, “Go for it, Blue. Do it.”
“Mr. Wallace?”
Blue turned to him. “Yes, sir.”
“AlexanderWynn,” the man said, extending a hand. “Just call me Alex. Did you lose my card?”
Blue sighed. “No, sir, Mr.Wynn. I’ve just had a rough couple of weeks.”
The man smiled. “Would you let me make it a little better for you?”
Blue grimaced. “If you think you can, go right ahead.”
“Could we have a seat over there? This will only take a few minutes.” When he pointed toward a table at the side of the room near the stage, Blue headed that direction. Once they were seated, the man asked, “Do you know what I want?”
“No, sir.” Blue didn’t want to guess; he wanted the guy to tell him.
“That song you sang. Do you have more?”
Where was he going with that? “Um, yeah.”
“I’d really like to see some of them.” Before Blue could tell him they were at home, the man added, “I’m not trying to steal your work. I’d just like to see what you’re capable of.”
“Sir, I’m not sure―” Blue started, but the guy interrupted him with an upraised hand.
“Do you know who HankChamberlain is?”
“Well, yeah. Doesn’t everybody?” Blue asked with a snort.
“Look, Hank is a great singer. He’s even a decent guitarist. And he writes too. But he’s not a strong writer.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“I showed him the video I made of you singing your song, and he’s very interested in writing with you,” the man told him.
Blue felt a little dizzy. HankChamberlain was at the top of the country charts at least four times a year. He’d been touring with some of the biggest names in the industry opening for him, for god’s sake. “He’s, are you, do I, what…” Blue said, trailing off. He really didn’t know how to respond.
“Just tell me you’ll meet with me early next week. That’s all I’m asking.”
Heart in his throat, Blue said, “Uh, sure.”
“You’ll have to call me. I don’t have your number!” Mr.Wynn said, laughing.
“I can fix that.” Blue took the card Wynn had just handed him and wrote his own number on the back. “There ya go.”
“Good. I’ll be back in town on Tuesday. I’ll try to give you a call on Monday and see what we can set up.”
“Thank you,” Blue said, unable to make what would pass as an intelligible sentence. Holy shit―the guy seemed for real. But if he thought Blue wouldn’t be checking up on him, he was wrong. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
“Great. Thank you so much. I’ll be in touch.” In seconds, the man was gone.
“What was that about?” Blue turned to find Gary standing nearby.
“Guy from Tidal Wave Records. Heard my song and wants to talk to me about writing with HankChamberlain,” Blue said, still trying to digest the conversation.
Gary broke out in hysterical laughter. “Oh, yeah, right! HankChamberlain! Give me a break.”
Devon leaned toward Blue. “Good luck, buddy. I’m rooting for you.”
One guy was making fun of him and the other was wishing him well. And Blue didn’t know which one to pay attention to. He’d figure that out when he got The Call―if it ever actually came.
“I don’t mind, really. As long as you don’t, I don’t,” Anne said when Blue started griping.
“I do mind. You shouldn’t have to do that.” Blue couldn’t help but pace. He’d learned years earlier that it kept him from exploding, so he paced fast and furiously.
“Really, I don’t mind. It’s just a couple of extra shifts every week, and you’re here with the kids,” she said, trying to grab his hand as he stalked past her again. “Sit down, please? You’re making me a nervous wreck.”
Blue spun and looked down at her. “This isn’t right!” he yelled. “You’re working extra and I can’t find a fucking job? I don’t want that. You don’t deserve that!”
“My decision.” Anne sat back in the sofa and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m doing it and that’s that.”
“No!” He dropped onto the sofa. “No. Damn, that’s not what I want. I’ve always taken care of myself. I don’t want you taking care of me.”
“Hey.” Her hand was soft on his face as she turned it toward her. “If something happened and I lost my job, wouldn’t you do the same for me?”
“Well, yes, but―”
“Then how is this different?”
“Because at the rate I’m going, if you lost your job, we’d both be in deep shit,” he said, sighing. Her hand landed softly on his thigh and he took it in his. “None of this is right. None of it.”
“I know. But it’s just a rough patch. It’ll get better,” she said, sweeping a couple of strands of hair off his face.
Blue knew he sounded like a wounded child when he asked, “How can you be so fucking optimistic?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve just always been this way. You pace and yell. I go totally rainbow glitter and unicorn farts.” He snorted out a laugh. “But seriously, I think we complement each other well.”
He dropped his head back and put his hands over his face, then stroked them upward through his hair until they rested on top of his head. “God. How is it that the older I get, the more fucked up my life gets?”
Silence fell between them for a good five minutes. Anne was the one who broke it. “So, remember that night we talked about us?”
Eyes closed, Blue nodded. “Yeah.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
There was a long pause before Anne asked, “Did you mean anything you said to me?”
Blue’s eyes snapped open and he turned to stare at her. “I meant every damn word.”
“Then I don’t understand. You haven’t really made an attempt at even touching me again. Are you not attracted to me?” As she spoke, her lower lip trembled and Blue thought it was just about the loveliest thing he’d ever seen.
Turning and taking her hands in his, he looked straight into her eyes. “That’s going to form a bond that won’t be easy to break. And I don’t want you getting hooked up with a loser, Anne. You don’t deserve that. You deserve a wonderful guy with a good job who’ll take care of you.”
“No. I deserve to have what I want. And I want you. If you don’t want me, I’ll understand.
I mean, I’m not… very pretty or… shapely.
I’m kinda… plain and…” she said, halting, seemingly unable to speak.
Tears had started to trail down her face, and Blue took her face in his hands and wiped the tears away with his thumbs.
“You’re beautiful. Don’t you know that? Even if you weren’t on the outside―which you are―you’re more than beautiful on the inside.
I’ve never met anyone else like you.” He leaned over and planted a soft, gentle kiss on her forehead.
“The day I met you was the luckiest day of my life. I want to be with you, but I want to be able to give you what you should have, not some broken, worn out, penniless village idiot with nothing to offer.”
But he couldn’t help himself. Leaning toward her, he captured her lips with his and pulled her to him.
He knew it was wrong, but he didn’t want to stop.
Her softness beckoned to him, willing him to take her, and that kind of self-control was something he’d never developed.
His hands wandered to her waist, found their way under her scrub top, and slid up her ribcage until they cupped her breasts.
She let loose a little sigh into his mouth, and he brushed his thumbs across the cups of her bra, rewarded with her back arching and her tongue brushing his lips.
His body took over in that moment and he picked her up off the sofa and carried her straight to the bedroom, their lips locked the entire trip. When he placed her gently on the bed and slipped off his tee, he watched as her eyes lit up, and he smiled. “Are you sure about this?”
Anne nodded. “Surer than I’ve ever been about anything.”