Chapter 13
After dinner Edison said he had a surprise for me and left me on the porch alone for over thirty minutes. More than enough time to obsess over what transpired this afternoon. Coming home was about a reset, not a rehashing of the past. I was already dealing with my own hurt feelings, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt Edison. Should we have slept together? Probably not. Was I counting the minutes until we did again? One hundred percent.
My life was all sixes and sevens. I’d dumped my cheating ex. Fans were sending thoughts and prayers based on the cryptic Whiskey Wild statement. I couldn’t turn to my manager for advice because he was my cheating ex. Darla was in Los Angeles on pause, waiting for me to figure my shit out. The record label was emailing me with questions. And God knows what Chap was telling them. He was probably torching my reputation as we speak.
Why was I so fucking impulsive? Fleeing LA, fucking Edison. I was always reactive, never proactive. I’d been in Hume for a week and didn’t have a game plan. What was my next move? Fuck all if I know. I was in Tennessee dicking around while the world burned down around me. And by sleeping with Edison, I was just adding more bodies to the fire.
I surveyed the sky, spying as the stars came into focus and the last of the sun was chased away by the moon. A cool breeze rumbled through the trees as insects buzzed about, their only worries being who they were going to sting tonight. The scent of the grill still lingered in the air and made my stomach grumble for one more bite of tri tip. Somehow the tranquility of the farm forced me to turn my brain off and just be still. I could get used to this.
A shrill whistle pierced my ears, and I turned to the direction of the barn and spotted Edison waving his hands like a madman. I grabbed my glass of wine and headed in his direction. The grass on the property was the richest shade of green. Should I expect anything less from the man who ran the nursery?
“Did you just whistle at me like I was an animal?”
“I didn’t want to walk all the way back over.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a refined lady,” I said, obnoxiously slurping from my wine glass. “There should really be more pomp and circumstance when my presence is requested.”
“Like a member of the royal family?”
“Exactly, I’m talking bending at the waist, an old nasty, cunty curtsy, and a sharp salute.”
“And they could all shout Queen Fancy for good measure.”
“I like how you think. But when it comes to country music right now, I feel more like the ugly stepsister than queen.”
“Maybe they were so mean because everyone was commenting on their looks.”
“Shit I’d be a bitch if everyone in town was referring to me and my sister as ugly. I’d have burned that motherfucker down.”
“Just fuck the royal ball and everyone in attendance?”
“Fuck the ball and my weird ass stepsister who talks to mice.” We shared a laugh before my curiosity got the better of me and I shifted the subject. “So why are we at the barn?”
“Because I have a surprise for you.”
“Does this surprise include wine? Cause I could really use a top off.”
Edison pulled back the barn doors to reveal a spa-like experience. It was a barn, there was no mistaking that, but he’d transformed it into an oasis with ginormous potted plants and trees, several large area rugs and jazz music playing through the speakers. In the middle of the barn was an extra-large circular tin tub, steam visible on the surface of the water.
“What did you do?” I squealed.
“I thought we could have a soak. Drink some champagne.”
Edison put some thought into this. There was a bench with fluffy towels and two robes. Underneath the bench were slippers and next to the tub was a short stool with a bottle of champagne and glasses with strawberries in them. Right now, my internal dialogue was telling me to hate all men. But Edison’s thoughtfulness left a soft spot in my heart and a wet spot in my panties.
I pulled off my T-shirt, tits on display and said, “Giddy up.”
After stripping down to our skivvies, we both climbed in. He wrapped his strong arms around me and it was like I was transported to heaven. The temperature of the water was perfect, hot but not scolding, and there were tiny jets distributing the water like a jacuzzi tub. A soft warm breeze traveled through the open barn doors, setting the tone. I could stay out here forever in his arms, surrounded by nature.
“Who has a tub in their barn?” I asked.
“You know I’ve always been a tinkerer. Jack-of-all-trades, master of none.”
“I can think of a few things you do very well.” I smirked.
He raised a single eyebrow.
The last thing I wanted to do was hurt this man. I told you Darla was my best friend but so was Edison. We met in kindergarten, and I remember I liked having him around. Even at five years old I sensed he was special, and I was lucky to have him in my life. During our freshman year of high school, people tried to sort us into separate queues. I was considered part of the popular clique, Darla was artsy, Edison was a bit of everything tech, band, track.
Despite the drama that comes with high school, we remained close. However, after our kiss in the park at twelve, we went our separate ways romantically. I was more experimental, and Edison was more of a true-blue monogamous man. He almost always had a girlfriend because he was sweet, charming, and loyal. Me, on the other hand I entertained several suitors at once and gained a bit of a reputation as a good time gal. I wrote a song by the same title, and it became one of Whiskey Wild’s biggest hits.
“You mentioned shit was going sideways with your label. Is it fixable?”
“I don’t want to bore you with that.”
“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”
“I guess anything can be fixed if you make them enough money.”
“Well, Whiskey Wild has to be pulling in bank.”
“We are, but it’s a balancing act. You’re only as good as your last project, single, tour. And the label’s got a lot riding on us fulfilling our dates.”
“It sounds like you’re in between a rock and a hard place.”
“And now my assistant is coming to town, and she probably has a message from the label. I just ghosted everyone and everything and there will be repercussions for that.”
“What are you going to do?” Edison reached for my hand under the water, giving it a squeeze.
“I don’t know. So much goes into these tours. Booking arenas a year or more in advance. Hiring crew. And the fans spent their hard-earned money to see us and I’ve jeopardized all that. I think I fucked up.”
“Do you want me to be honest or empathetic?”
“Can’t I get a little of both?” I bit the inside of my cheek.
“My dad always said, ‘When you make a commitment, you build hope. And when you keep it, you build trust.’”
“Wow, Papa Birch just made me feel ten times worse.”
“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, but I do think you need to do everything in your power to make your tour dates. I’m not saying you can’t take the time you need, but Whiskey Wild is still a business. How many tour dates have you missed?”
I took a long, silent swig of champagne. “Technically, I’ve only missed night two of the Heritage Fest. The second half of our tour doesn’t start for another three weeks.”
“So why are you so upset?”
“There was a statement. Whiskey Wild put out a statement. And the blogs are gossiping. Saying all kinds of stuff about me and Darla battling it out for the spotlight. They said I left the desert in tears. Which is true, but I was upset about Chap. Everyone is spinning it like there’s trouble in paradise with Whiskey Wild. There’re breakup rumors and the fans have gotten a hold of it and some of them are picking sides. Can you believe that?”
Edison looked around the barn as if he was searching for answers. “If you haven’t missed any tour dates, why put out a statement about missing tour dates?”
“I don’t know, that was all Chap and Darla.”
Edison’s eyes screamed disapproval.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’m just saying for someone who claims Whiskey Wild is their baby, you sure are pawning it off to others to burp and swaddle.”
“Okay I’m impulsive, next. And just so we’re clear. I left my baby with my partner, Darla. I didn’t just lock it in a room with Cheez-Its and juice boxes.”
His eyebrows rose in a slow arch. “Umm, same difference.”
“Bullshit, Bullshit, Bull-fucking-shit.”
“I wouldn’t let Darla watch the time, let alone the future of Whiskey Wild.”
“Are you finished? Are you done?”
“I’m just saying Darla isn’t someone I’d call responsible. I let her borrow my truck and she drove it into a lake.”
“Okay that’s fair. But let’s not act like I’m the textbook example of responsibility. I’m really just out here with my dick out trying to figure my next move. I’m knocking on thirty and I haven’t got a fucking clue. Not about our next album, where I’m going to live, if I’m ever going to see my dog again.”
“You have a dog?”
“Yeah, Yeti Spaghetti II. But Chap calls him Zeus.”
“Okay two things. One, if you want your dog back, we’ll get your dog back. And two, you need to reach out to the label and make things right. Whatever that means in the music industry. And then I fear you and Darla need to have a serious conversation about your management and whether you can separate business and personal.”
Edison made it all sound so simple. And maybe it was. If I’m being honest, I’d been consumed with how Chap’s actions affected me and hadn’t considered much else beyond that. It was time to put my big girl jeans on and solve this shit. Chap was out, Darla and I could resume the tour, and after, we’d start writing our next album. And I’d sue Chap for full custody of our dog.
“That’s one way to skin a squirrel,” I said.
“Problems and conflict make me anxious, so I like to solve them as quickly as possible.”
Leaning closer, I caressed his cheek. “I appreciate you listening.”
“Of course.” Edison kissed the top of my head.
We both retreated into our thoughts. Was he thinking the same thing I was? That our time together now had a clear endpoint. I’d go on tour and then nights in the tin tub would be a fond memory. I couldn’t ask him to wait for me. Because I didn’t know when I’d be coming back or if I even wanted to. Hume was my hometown, but it was no longer my home.
But LA didn’t feel like home either. I was just going through the motions in LA. Hikes on trails that paled in comparison to Hume. Fighting to get a spot in a reformer class at Helix Fitness. Eighteen dollars for a smoothie. Going to a club just to sit in VIP and not dance because VIP was for the rich cool kids and the dance floor was for losers who couldn’t get into VIP.
All my life, I wanted to be known for my music. But being famous and followed by paparazzi wasn’t ever part of that dream. I never wanted to lose my privacy and ability to navigate freely in the world. Everywhere I went, I was recognized and the reality that my life was no longer mine and mine alone was sinking in. Fans had expectations of the group and me. Expectations about who I should date. How I should dress. About the length of my bangs. Over a year ago, after a fight with Chap in which he picked apart my appearance, I got a little scissor happy and cut my own bangs. It looked hideous, but I chose to rock them until they grew out, my form of a silent rebellion.
The fans roasted me. There were think pieces about my bangs. Videos of people just laughing at a picture of me and my fucked up bangs in the background. My hairstylist received death threats over my chopped bangs. That moment made me hyper aware that the parasocial relationships fans were creating were unhealthy. Don’t get me wrong, I loved our fans, but sometimes they’d cross the line, and it was hurtful and occasionally scary.
Edison cleared his throat. “Hey, I was thinking, why don’t you just stay with me until you get ready to leave?”
“With you?” I thought he’d be looking to put some distance between us, not pull me closer.
“Yeah, it would give us time to catch up.”
“I feel like we’ve already caught up and now we’re working on new material,” I teased.
He splashed the warm water over his face. “No pressure, it was just a thought.”
I tilted his chin, so he was looking at me. “I like the way you think. An extended sleepover sounds fun.”
I had three weeks to get my shit together. After that the already frustrated label would be pissed. Hiding out in Hume forever was not a viable option. People depended on the Whiskey Wild machine to keep churning. The band, the stage crew, security, craft services, if we didn’t perform, no one made money. I was tempted to text Darla and ask her to fly out. Edison’s advice was appreciated, but I really needed to talk things through with my bandmate. My choices affected her more than anyone else and her advice was always delivered plain with no sugar coating on top.
“Whiskey Wild has a show in three weeks.” I wanted to make sure Edison knew how much time he had. How much time was left before the carriage turned back into a pumpkin. Three weeks didn’t allow for making plans or figuring things out. I didn’t know what I was doing and now I’d dragged him into it.
My head was resting on his shoulder and I could sense him nodding thoughtfully. “Edison?”
“Yep.”
Floating, I positioned myself so I was straddling his lap. “I would never use you. You said you felt like I was using you. And I just need you to know you’re too important to me to do something like that.”
“Okay.”
My head jerked back slightly. “Not okay. I need you to comprehend.”
“Fancy you’ve always had options. For you, life is a smorgasbord. Maybe use wasn’t the right word. Perhaps I should have said consumed or depleted.”
“You make me sound like a vulture.”
“You just take Fancy. You make me want to give you everything, even if that means I have nothing left for myself. And I’m not saying you don’t offer value in return. Your smile alone is worth a million dollars. Being near you is like summer rain, light and refreshing. I’m just saying it’s not easy to recover after you’ve moved on.”
I’d be the first to admit that in my youth I was flighty. But I wasn’t a taker. “How is that my fault? I never asked people to get all caught up in me.”
“Your presence practically demands it. It’s not something you purposely do, it’s just in you. A trigger that makes people want to please you. Your parents, Oz, every guy in high school.”
I opened my mouth ready to disagree.
Edison flashed me a warning glare. “I don’t want to fight.”
“We’re not fighting, we’re just having a conversation.”
“Well maybe I don’t want to have this particular conversation.”
I moved to the other side of the tub, sizing him up. “You know you’re not perfect either.”
“I know it.”
“You can be possessive, you only see things in black and white, and you’re afraid of change.”
“Guilty. I’m fiercely protective of the people I care about. Nuance is fine but most people hide behind that concept, so they don’t have to pick a fucking side. And I am keenly aware of who I am and what makes me happy.”
“Good, just want to be clear I’m not the only one with flaws.”
“When did I say you had flaws?”
“You compared me to a succubus.”
Edison chuckled.
“What’s so damn funny?”
“Fancy, we have three weeks. Do you want to spend that time fighting or fucking?” He floated forward, pulling me back onto his lap. His dick was erect and ready, and I lost all my righteous indignation. Edison’s kisses had the ability to fold time. My nipples brushed against his chest and a ribbon of desire fluttered in the base of my stomach. My heartbeat was so loud it drowned out all the doubt. Our kisses were deep and rapid like a raging river. The night breeze chilled my wet, naked skin.
I grabbed his face and said, “I need you right now.” You’d think I was a cat in heat the way my chest was heaving. All that was missing was the plaintive wails.
Edison released an audible gasp as he entered me. When he finally slid into place, my body was awash with relief and excitement. His hands landed on my thighs and he gave them a quick rub before gently guiding me up and down. He leaned forward to kiss my neck and chest before slapping my ass hard. The splash of water and his heavy hand caught me by surprise, causing me to moan low and long.
Edison collected my damp curls which were a bit tangled and frizzy from neglect after all this carefree country living. His thrust became harder and more urgent as if my body was the cure to every last one of his problems. All my other senses seemed to dim as my sense of touch became heightened. The gentle tugging at my hair. Edison’s free hand cupping my breast while the pad of his thumb teased my nipple. My ass slamming into him and the shiver that connection produced. We were sweaty, and something about fucking in the barn with the doors wide open for any passerby to witness felt primal and raw. Just two horny people looking to satisfy our need to experience the heady high of pleasure.
When his hand found my clit my body felt electric, the sensation pulsing through my veins, the harshness of the impending wave was almost painful and my body tried to scurry away in fear. Fear of this man who knew my body like his own, even though he’d only been granted access a day ago. Fear of the quicken of my heart at the nearness of him and my longing for this to never end. Fear of the unknown and what this all meant.
Edison chastised me, his voice rough and no louder than a grumble. “Stop running from it and take this dick.”
His words were like a whistle, and I complied, opening myself wide so he could go deeper. Which caused me to scream as loud as my lungs would allow. The benefit of living in the country was there weren’t neighbors around for miles. So when I yelled, “Fucking take this pussy. Take it all,” there was no one to eavesdrop.
“Are you ready for me to make you come or do you want to play a little longer?”
I didn’t know this was a choose your own adventure. I’ll take orgasms for one thousand Alex. “Please fucking make me come,” I said out of breath, throat dry, sweat running down my ass crack.
The water acted as a conduit to our gratification. His next thrust left me thunderstruck. All I could make out were random shapes as my eyes crossed. Circles and swirls floating all around me. The last stroke stole my very soul like Ursula hijacking the Mermaid’s voice. I shivered and convulsed and thanked the gods for my good fortune. I would do anything for this man. Swat down a wasp nest. Streak naked down Birch Street. Read the mean comments on my social media post. There was no rhyme or reason to it. That dick and the very fine man attached to it was my kryptonite.