Chapter 30 Rust
RUST
Something’s wrong with my wife. Worry knots my stomach as I breathe in the scent of stale beer permeating the bar.
Tally checks her lipstick in a hand mirror. It’s the fourth time since we got to the packed honky-tonk about ten minutes ago. All seats are taken, but the owner, Dave, had reserved three stools for us.
“Wow, you really drew a crowd!” Erin says, grabbing a handful of salted peanuts from a bowl on the bar top.
People squeeze around the bar, trying to get in their order. The line almost goes to the door. It’s impressive how many people turned up for an unknown singer. It’d be a whole ‘nother thing if they knew the Tally Creed is about to perform.
Without the wigs and the blue contacts, Tally looks different enough to keep her identity a secret. To me, it’s still crazy people don’t realize who she is. But I think that’s cause I’ve known her my whole life and longingly stare at her pictures every day.
I mean, even Dolly Parton didn’t get recognized when she went out without her massive wigs and tons of makeup. If it worked for the queen of country music, who am I to question the strategy?
“Everybody’s excited to see you!” Erin chirps.
“I guess,” Tally mumbles, her tone lacking its usual musicality.
There’s no trace of the bubbly woman who wrote a song with me by the creek this morning. What the fuck did I miss? I scan the room, trying to find the reason for her foul mood.
This place is the classic country dive bar experience, including multi-colored Christmas lights hanging from the rafters in the middle of summer.
Peanut shells litter the perpetually sticky floor.
A jukebox plays old country songs and the cracking of billiard balls comes from a pool table in the back.
Isn’t this exactly what she wanted?
Tally whistles to get Dave’s attention, pointing at her empty glass. “Another bourbon, please! Make it a double, no ice. I’m fine with the cheap shit cause I won’t taste much chuggin’ it.”
Dave looks up from pouring a beer and nods. Sweat beads on his brow as he continues to fill orders.
Erin chews more peanuts, following my gaze. “The whole town came out to hear you sing.”
Tally stiffens at Erin’s remark. I’m about to ask what’s gotten her so stressed, when a guy pushes through the crowd and heads straight for Tally. He taps her shoulder, but she doesn’t react.
My pulse rockets. A lesser man would’ve already succumbed to the impulse to break his finger for the transgression of touching her.
The scrawny fucker doesn’t pose a physical threat, but something about his sleazy grin puts me on high alert. If he touches her again, I’ll rip his spindly arm from its socket and beat him to death with it.
He’s definitely not from around these parts. The striped polo shirt and sweatpants give it away. My eyes drop and I wince. I thought his outfit couldn’t get worse, but I was wrong.
He’s wearing Crocs to a country bar. Crocs in sports-mode.
Quickly, I drag my gaze from the abominations on his feet to his face.
The deep wrinkles on his forehead and around his beady eyes befit a man in his late forties.
A large, raised mole sits to the right of his crooked nose.
His patchy stubble seems like he can barely grow a beard and his thinning hair follows the same trend, but his wiry, bushy brows and untrimmed nose hair more than make up for it.
“Hey sweetheart, have we met before?” he says in Tally’s direction.
Did he find that awful pickup line in a player’s handbook from the seventies?
I wanna step in, but I know Tally and I know she’d want to handle the situation herself first. She’s not a damsel in distress. I don’t want her to think I see her as some fragile little thing who needs a man to defend her. That’s guaranteed to piss her off.
I’m here for backup if she wants it. Or needs it.
Tally gives the guy a once over. Her lips twist like she smelled something foul. “Nah, don’t know you.” She pulls her hat deeper into her face and rummages through her bag, indicating the end of their conversation.
Of course, the asshole doesn’t get the memo.
“Really, though, don’t I know you from somewhere? Maybe the TV?” he presses.
“Leave us alone already! Shoo!” Erin bursts out and tosses a peanut at the man. He chuckles awkwardly as it hits his chest, but he doesn’t move away.
A muscle in Tally’s jaw flickers. It’s a tiny change most folks probably wouldn’t notice, but I know she’s used to suppressing her discomfort in public.
I push off the bar. That’s enough.
The guy rubs over his thin hair, smacking his frog-like lips as he stares at Tally’s back. “Could’ve been a billboard, too. Are you a model or a sing—”
I clap a heavy hand on his shoulder. He startles, finally acknowledging my presence he’s tried so hard to ignore.
“The ladies ain’t interested in conversing with you, buddy. Think it’s time for you to go,” I say with passive-aggressive cheer.
He makes an annoyed noise. “And you are?”
“A laidback guy who can lean forward real quick if you give me a reason,” I growl.
How I’d love to slam his ugly mug into the counter. It could only be an improvement.
He grins, but it’s not a friendly expression. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving. But watch out. You haven’t seen the last of me. I’m like a boomerang…” He waves his hands through the air. “Whoosh…”
“You… what? Is that supposed to be a threat?” Holding back a laugh, I look at Tally. “Hey, is he threatening me?”
She scoffs. “For his sake, I hope not.”
Like a defective waving wacky inflatable arm-flailing tube man, the freak stumbles backward, bumping into people. He stops by a young fella with a white cowboy hat and slips him something from his pocket. Then he waves at me one more time before slinking out the door.
Dave puts a glass of bourbon in front of Tally. “What a fuckin’ weirdo. If Rust hadn’t told him to get lost, I woulda done it myself.”
“You seen him ‘round here before?” I ask.
Dave shakes his head, wiping his hands on a dish towel slung over his shoulder. “We get them city folks traveling through sometimes. They’re often a bit strange, but this one had my hackles rising since he came in. Before he talked to y’all, he was starin’ at the girls from the corner.”
“Just a run-of-the-mill, awkward creep trying to get laid,” Tally says and grabs the glass.
I got a good creep radar and this guy struck me as more than that. Then again, my emotions have been all messed up since I found the love of my life crashing on my sofa. I might’ve gotten a little overprotective.
Dave sighs. “I saw him handing a something to Trevor before he left. Sure hope he wasn’t dealin’ in here.”
“He gave something to the guy in the white hat? Want me to go check it out and talk to him?” I offer.
Dave raises his hands. “Lord, no. Just let me know if the weirdo comes back to bother y’all and I’ll kick him out. I’ll call the sheriff if I gotta.”
Something ain’t right. Dave’s a tall, broad fella and I bet he’s had plenty of experience laying down the law in his bar. Why would he be scared of that Trevor kid pretending to be a cowboy?
“I think we’ll be fine.” Tally says with a tight smile, and Dave goes to serve the other customers.
“So what’s the big deal with Trevor?” I ask Erin.
“Ugh. Him.” Erin’s voice drips with disgust.
“Trevor’s a classic scumbag name,” Tally remarks over the rim of her glass.
Erin rolls her eyes. “Nobody in town messes with his family. His daddy runs a huge cattle operation and they recently found oil on their property. He never has had a lick a’ sense, but now his ego is swollen to the size of the moon.
To make matters worse, he’s gotten engaged to the daughter of some finance big shot from the city. ”
Tally chugs the bourbon and slams the glass on the bar. “Fuck, I hate men like that.”
“Best to stay away.” Erin clears her throat. “I’m gonna go to the ladies’ room and give y’all some alone time to prepare for your show.”
When she’s out of earshot, I sidle up to Tally. “Slow down with the drinks, Trouble.”
“You ain’t my daddy,” she teases weakly.
“No, but I am your concerned husband.”
“Ex-husband,” she mumbles, but it lacks the usual fire.
I grab her chin between my thumb and forefinger, making her look at me. “Instead of drowning yourself in bourbon, how ‘bout you tell me what’s bothering you?”
She pulls away. “Nothin’.”
“Please. Talk to me.”
She traces the rim of the empty glass with a single finger. “It’s stupid.”
I grasp her by the waist, turn her on the bar stool and step between her legs. Her cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and my groin pressed against her center, but worry is plain in her eyes.
“What did I tell you about this self-deprecating talk? I don’t wanna hear none of that,” I scold affectionately, cupping her face with both hands.
“I’m… nervous,” she whispers.
Confusion filters through me. This woman has filled entire stadiums of fans and performed in front of tens of thousands of people.
“You’re nervous about playing in this old honky-tonk where even the AC ain’t working properly?”
She nods bashfully.
“But I thought this is what you wanted?”
She nods again and I realize I don’t have to understand her reasons. I just want to be there for her.
I kiss her softly and press my forehead to hers. “If you changed your mind, we can get the hell outta here. No pressure.”
“But I want to stay and sing,” she says firmly. “It’s complicated.”
“Can you try to explain it to me?” I ask.
“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “When I perform as superstar Tally Creed, I play a role. Despite all the shape-wear pinchin’ my body and the stupid wigs givin’ me a headache, it’s safe.
The crowd sees the curated, perfect version of me.
But here in this bar, it’s just me, raw and unfiltered, dressed in a thrifted maxi skirt and an old Brooks & Dunn T-shirt. Hell, I didn’t even clean my boots.”
Her gaze drifts to the tiny wooden stage, a stool and a mic in the center lit up by two lights dangling precariously from the ceiling. A faded, gold sequin curtain nailed to the wall serves as a backdrop.
Tally digs her teeth into her bottom lip. It seems like it takes her great effort to get the next words out. “What if I dazzled people into believing I was any good? What if these folks here see the real me and find I’m actually boring and ugly and talentless?”
I shake her gently by the shoulders. “You’re the goddamn opposite of boring, Trouble. You’re a whirlwind packaged in gorgeous curves. Talentless? Don’t make me laugh! Would anyone call a choir of angels talentless?”
Her brow quirks. “No?”
“Exactly. And you got the voice of an angel. What was that about you being ugly? Fuck, you’re the most stunning woman this town has ever seen. The most beautiful woman any town will ever see.”
Her giggle lifts a weight off my chest. “Thank you. I needed that pep talk. You should trademark those cause you’re damn good at puttin’ my head on straight.”
I adjust my backward cap, grinning. “Doing my job as your partner in crime, ma’am.”
“And you’ll be right there with me in the limelight. So I got nothin’ to worry about.”
My jaw drops at the same time as my heart. “I thought this was your gig?”
“Our gig.”
I’m glad she’s feeling better but I don’t like where this is going.
“Ready when you are!” Dave shouts from across the bar.
“We’re actually gonna need a second mic and another stool,” she yells back.
“Sure thing!” Dave answers and disappears into a backroom.
I’m still processing when Tally hops from her seat and picks up her guitar case, putting it on the bar. She takes out the instrument, offering it to me. “It’s tuned and ready for you. I want you to play tonight.”
I accept the guitar in a trance. She fishes a tiny headless tambourine out of her bag, entwines my free hand with hers and steers me toward the stage.
I dig my heels in. “But I’m gonna drag down your performance.”
“Bullshit! You never drag me down. All you do is lift me up and bring out the best in me.”
I feel like I got hit with a bullet of sunshine. It hurts, but it makes me grin, too.
While Dave sets up the second mic, Tally turns to me and lays a cold hand on my cheek. From the tremble in her fingers I can tell she’s still nervous, but now she’s the one giving me courage.
It’s a mutual deal, it seems.
“If you don’t believe in yourself right now that’s okay, Big Guy. Cause I believe in you enough for both of us and I’ll keep lending you confidence until you find your own.”
Tally hops up the steps to the stage, taking her spot in front of the microphone. Her eyes gleam as she gestures for me to follow.
I laugh anxiously. The last time I stood on stage with the woman I love was the day I married her—and then lost her. I can’t help worrying that history will repeat itself.
But more than that, stronger than my fear, is that pull on my heartstrings drawing me toward her.
I walk up and take a seat on the stool next to hers.
“Good evening y’all, we’re Kentucky Skies!” Tally says into the mic and applause rises.
It feels like my heart swells to double its size. I haven’t heard our old stage name in so long, I didn’t realize how much I missed it. How right it sounds.
Tally shakes the headless tambourine. “We’re here to get those boots movin’! Are you ready?”
A whoop comes from the side where Erin waves both hands over her head. Trevor whistles and a tall blond woman with a pearl necklace elbows him in the ribs, shutting him up.
Tally covers the mic with her palm and whispers to me, “Let’s get them going with ‘You Look Like You Love Me’ before we mix things up with a few classics.”
I nod and strum the strings, my fingers acting on memory. It’s been an eternity since I last sang a duet for an audience. At the Coal Bucket, I only perform alone. But when our gazes meet and our voices align, it feels like we never stopped being Kentucky Skies.
Like we never stopped being us.
We just hit pause—and now we’re back.
The faces of the crowd blur. In this moment, only our melody matters. Only we matter.
I know she’ll always be my harmony in the chaos. Until my heart stops, she’ll always be the missing notes in my song and the rhythm of my pulse.