Chapter 40
TALLY
We spend most of the next day practicing and refining our new songs. In the afternoon, I take on the largest part of the drive to Phoenix where we check into a random motel on the outskirts of the city.
Both exhausted, we grab food from a nearby fast-food chain. We cuddle on the bed to watch late-night sitcom reruns while we eat, but as I dip fries into my vanilla milkshake I come to a shocking realization.
At the start of this road trip, I thought I needed the rush and the danger of crimes to feel creative. I convinced myself I needed the sex to get inspired.
Now I’m sitting next to Rust doing absolutely nothing special and my blood sings. I’m full of music, but it’s more than my creative spark.
He looks at me and the room spins.
He smirks and I lose my breath.
He says my name and there’s an earthquake behind my ribs, like my heart wants to burst from my chest and throw itself at his feet.
But in this peaceful moment, there’s no chase. No fight. No crime. No adrenaline. Not even lust.
Just his calloused thumb absentmindedly brushing over my knuckles. Just the playful kiss he presses to my lips before he steals one of my fries.
The adventure isn’t out there. It’s right here in the quiet, in the calm—with him. He makes standstill feel like a free-fall and somehow I don’t mind closing my eyes and letting it happen. Because I know he’ll catch me. Because he’s my peace.
The best adventure of all is being his.
Wiping my hands on a baby wipe from my purse first, I thread my fingers into Rust’s hair. I run my nails over his scalp and he lets out a content growl. It’s more like a purr. He’s always loved when I do this. It’s a trace of the young man I first fell for.
Tears blur my vision.
My heart and my brain tug me in opposite directions.
Is love enough to beat the horrible odds of a relationship in the cruel spotlight? Or are we doomed from the start, bound to be torn apart by the media and our troubled past?
My phone chimes on the nightstand. I’m almost grateful for the distraction until I see the notification. An image attachment from an unknown number? Must be a spam text.
Irritated, I put my phone on silent mode and tap on the notification to block the number. When a picture fills the screen, I almost hurl over the sheets.
I recognize the parking lot by the little honky-tonk in Pine Bluff. And there we are. Rust in cuffs, being led to the sheriff’s car, me kissing him.
The phone vibrates in my hand.
Unknown
There’s more.
Swallowing bile, I glance at Rust. He’s oblivious, watching TV and taking big bites from a double cheeseburger. I angle myself so he can’t see my phone and hastily type a response.
Me
Who is this?
Unknown
Someone who knows what you did this summer.
My palms sweat. Shit, that could mean a lot. I’ve packed a lifetime’s worth of adventure and felonies into this one week.
Okay, this person knows about the bar fight and the arrest. But do they know about the dead drifter? The arson at the county fair? The diner robbery?
No, no, no! Don’t panic!
I gotta stay calm. The last thing I want to do is give them more ammunition to use against me because I let fear cloud my judgment. First, I have to find out who and what I’m dealing with.
And above all, I can’t let them know that I’m terrified. The stage prepared me for faking confidence like a true professional.
Me
Unless you’re gonna be more specific, I’m blocking this number. Byeeeee.
The answer comes fast as lightning.
Unknown
Bet the police would love a tip from an anonymous caller pointing them to the robber who held up that retro diner.
A chill creeps up my spine. Fuck, what now? I have to pretend I still got the upper hand.
Me
Without proof you ain’t got shit.
A series of pictures pops up on my screen. Rust by his truck in the parking lot of Peggy’s Diner, pulling on the balaclava. Rust entering the diner with his shotgun.
Unknown
Got some great shots of you bent over that stool, too. You’d be surprised how close you can get with the right camera lens, even from as far away as the old motel across the lot.
Fuck! Shit! Damn it, I should’ve trusted my intuition! That was the flash I saw. Somebody’s been watching us all along and I was too busy gaslighting myself to notice.
Unknown
I’d get a pretty penny for the pics documenting Tally Creed’s crime spree with her redneck boyfriend. Can you imagine the headlines?
How about ‘Once trailer trash, always trailer trash: Tally Creed blows off tour and disappoints fans to turn to a life of crime and public sex.’
I grit my teeth. The bastard has been watching and he knows who I am. How did he find me? This whole setup stinks of a professional paparazzo. No amateur would go this far and be this sneaky.
Unknown
Your career will crash and burn, much like your hillbilly lover blew up that car.
Give me a fucking break! He knows about the county fair, too? I guess there it would’ve been easy to blend into the crowds and watch without us catching on.
Unknown
You might get away with a brief stint in some celebrity prison, but your lover won’t be so lucky. Seeing the charges he racked up, he’ll spend a long, long time behind bars in a dirty, dangerous prison.
Panic wraps around my chest, but it’s not me or my career I’m worried about. My eyes drift to Rust.
It’s him.
I dragged Rust into this. It’s all my fault. The road trip. The crimes. Egging him on to do worse and worse shit to impress me and feed my inspiration.
If I never crashed into his life with a body in the trunk, he’d be safe. He’d be okay.
Fuck, I can’t let the man I love go to prison because of me. For me.
The cops aren’t an option. If I told them about the texts, I’d have to incriminate myself and Rust. Even if I could find somebody to trace this number, any blackmailer worth his salt would use a burner phone.
My fingers twist into the sheets. Checkmate. I’m defeated. There’s only one question left to ask.
Me
What will it take to make this go away?
Unknown
Let’s start with one million dollars in small bills.
The air rushes from my lungs. Start with? Even if I agree, this piece of shit is gonna continue extorting me but I’ve never cared less about my money. Protecting Rust is my top priority. Agreeing to the payment will buy me time to plan further steps.
Me
I can’t get that much money this fast. The bank won’t give it to me.
Unknown
Get the cash or you’ll both be pacing prison cells soon.
Me
Fine. Where do you want it?
Unknown
The Desert Vista Mall. There’s a bench and a trash can opposite the escalators on the second floor.
At exactly noon tomorrow, you’ll drop the money in that trash can and walk away. Alone. No cops. Don’t bring your hick boyfriend.
If you break my rules, the deal is off and you’ll be seeing your crime spree hot off the press.
Me
I’ll be there.
A quick online search shows me that the mall isn’t far from our motel.
I’m already planning an excuse why I have to go there alone when something touches my shoulder.
I jump. The phone drops from my hand and bounces on the mattress, landing screen down.
I crumple from relief. I don’t wanna keep secrets from Rust, but in this case it’s the lesser of two evils.
His brow creases as he studies my face. “Somethin’ the matter?”
I blink dumbly. “Uh, sorry. Were you talking to me?”
Worry plays in his brown eyes as his head tilts. “Yeah, I asked if you wanna go for a drive and see if we can find some ice cream? I’m in the mood for dessert.”
I give a hasty nod. Too hasty. “Sure!” I swing my legs off the bed and grab my phone, but Rust catches my wrist.
“Not so fast, Trouble.”
“What? Let’s go already!” I force a laugh.
“No, ma’am. I ain’t goin’ nowhere until you tell me what’s wrong.”
My mouth gapes. “T-taxes.”
“Everybody knows you don’t mess with the IRS, but I don’t believe the tax man got you quakin’ in your boots right about now.” He slowly reaches for my phone. “Something on there got you this upset?”
Traitorous tears well in my eyes. “No?” I lie weakly. It sounds like a question. An invitation.
He takes it.
Rust gently pries the phone from my hand and I sob. On stage, I can fool the whole world, but I can’t lie to him—not even for five fucking minutes. Not even to protect him.
Maybe in a way, that’s good. Because as much as it scares me, it feels good to be seen. To be truly known.
Rust’s eyes turn to slits as he scrolls through the messages and pics. “The angle of that shot in front of the honky-tonk makes my forehead look like an airfield. It’s gigantic!”
I sputter. “Huh?”
“I mean, Christ!” He waves the phone around. “If you wanna commit blackmail, at least take good photos! What a loser.”
“That’s all you have to say? If these pictures get out, my career is over. And much worse, you’ll go to prison—probably for life!” I press my palms to my temples. “Oh God, we’ll both get arrested and you’re cracking fucking jokes!”
Rust’s large, warm hand finds my back. “Sorry. Don’t be mad. I wanted to make you laugh.”
“No, you’re fine! I’m not mad. It’s me…” Tears spill from my eyes, the force of my emotions cutting off my voice.
He leans his forehead against mine. “Don’t worry. You know I’ll fix this. I’ll protect you.”
“But this is my fault! You’re only in this shit situation because of me! It ain’t fair to make you clean up my mess again. You shouldn’t have to keep saving me. I already owe you.”
His lips brush mine in the softest, lightest kiss. The hairs on my arms rise and my skin prickles.
“Nobody’s keepin’ score, Trouble. You don’t owe me a damn thing.”
“But it feels like I do,” I whisper.
“Then maybe you don’t know the difference between a debt and somebody actually giving a shit about you.”
His words knock the air from me.
“I wanna show up for you and I don’t want anything in return. Unless there’s a loyalty reward system. Can I collect stamps somewhere?” He grins. “Is there an offer like ‘Help Tally ten times and get a free blowjob?’”
I snort-giggle. “You’re the worst.”
“But you laughed.” He swipes a tear from my cheek.
“Only you manage to make me laugh when I want to cry. When it feels like the world is on fire, you’re the only thing that doesn’t burn.”
“Well…” Awkwardly, he clasps a hand on the back of his neck. “Except that time I set the magazine on fire… and the pillow… and myself. You were the one who saved me then, remember?”
I twirl a curl around my finger. “I guess…”
“And you did so much more. Before you drove a corpse into my front yard, I was barely alive. I was a ghost, haunting my own house.”
An effusion of warmth expands in my chest. “I had no idea you felt this way.”
“You reminded me that it’s okay to want things. I was fading slowly, but you lit me up brighter than all the stars in the sky. You made me remember that life ain’t about survivin’. You made me want to thrive. To dream. So it ain’t just me saving you. We save each other.”
I press a hand to my lips, trying to hold back the confession smashing against the inside of my gritted teeth. Only this time, I know I’m fighting a losing battle.
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” I spit out like the words are hot coals on my tongue.
His eyes widen. “Can you repeat that? Not sure I heard you right.”
I take a deep breath. Okay, I did this once. I can do it twice.
“Rustin McAllister, I’m falling in love with you. Again.”
He takes my hands into his. “But I can’t fall in love with you…”
My heart seizes.
“Because that would require me to stop lovin’ you first,” he adds. “When we met, I loved you from sunrise to sundown and through each night. When I lost you, I loved you through every lonely second of this unending heartbreak. And I still love you now, more than ever before.”
“You love me,” I whisper.
“And you love me, too,” he responds.
I fly into his arms. He crushes me against his chest and I feel his heart hammering. I can barely breathe, barely think, but I don’t want to let go.
We sit in silence, wrapped in the uncertainty of our mutual confessions and this feverish embrace.
My tears keep falling. I’m afraid. More afraid than I’ve ever been, even more afraid than before my first gig in a sold-out stadium or when I killed the drifter.
But somehow, I feel lighter, too.
I don’t know what happens next. Our relationship might crash and burn like the first time. This path might well be a minefield and we’re walking into it holding hands like blind fools.
But when he pulls back, Rust’s eyes are steady and his smile is tender. And I think maybe it’s enough that we’re choosing each other. Maybe there’s a perfect future out there, filled with happiness and light and we just have to grasp it.
“Let me help, Trouble,” Rust says. “We’re partners in crime. I won’t let this asshole get away with blackmailing my wife.”
My heart swells at the word wife.
“I take it you got a plan, Big Guy? And please don’t let it involve sunglasses, squirrels, or posing dead bodies as relatives this time.”
He smirks. “No. This time, I need your spare wig.”