Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Happy with her performance, Becky was sitting at the bar finishing her celebratory drink and chatting with friends when Sheriff Hollister wandered in. He was off duty and ambled across to join them.
“That boy of yours got himself in real trouble this time,” he remarked after ordering a beer.
“If you mean Roy, we’re not together, but what did he do?”
“Got behind the wheel after one too many, and wrapped that prize truck of his around a tree.”
“What?” Becky exclaimed, stunned at the news. “When did this happen? Is he all right?”
“About thirty-minutes ago. He seems to be fine. I was kinda surprised he left your show, but I guess he had somewhere he wanted to be. Did you see him leave?”
“I noticed him walking off with a guy I don’t know, but it was from the corner of my eye. I can’t tell you more than that. Did you check with Alec?”
“Yep. He just saw the truck pulling out.”
“Roy did call me earlier and asked if he could drive me here. I turned him down. Maybe he was still mad about it.”
“Maybe, doesn’t matter much. He’s been booked on a DUI and he’ll be spendin’ the night in the drunk tank sleepin’ it off. I’m thinkin’ I’ll tell the judge to send him off to some kind of rehab. That boy’s gotta problem.”
“Sounds like a good idea. I think you might be right.”
Glancing at her watch, she saw it was getting late, and she wanted to be home when Cody called. She started saying her goodbyes, and was about to turn and leave, when Jeb Berkely stepped up and patted her on the back.
“Becky, you are destined for great things. I was telling the driver of that tour bus how great you are, and tonight you were fantastic.”
“Thanks, Jeb. I appreciate that.”
“You’ll be in a bus like that one of these days.”
“I doubt it,” she laughed. “I can’t imagine being as famous as Cash Colt. I still can’t believe he was on the outskirts of our town.”
“Cash Colt?” one of her friends piped in. “He was here?”
“Yep,” Jeb replied. “He and his band and their girls were picked up in some mighty fancy limousines. They were only here a short time.”
“Shoot. Wish I’d seen them,” Becky muttered.
“Anyway, I told that driver how great you are, and Becky, tonight you were. You can sing better than a turtle dove.”
“Jeb, you’re such a sweetie,” she smiled, and leaned forward to peck him on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
Driving home, the conversation swimming in her head, she couldn’t help but think what an odd coincidence it was that a musician would have wandered into the diner around the same time Cash Colt’s bus had broken down. As she pulled into her driveway, she sighed heavily. Was it possible Cody really was a part of Cash’s band but wanted to keep it to himself?
But she was still on a high from the club, and picking up her bag and guitar, leaving the amp until morning, she walked into the house. Her father would still be at the diner making sure things were closed down properly, and as was her habit after a show, she put some milk on the stove to heat, and sat down at the kitchen table. Hot milk and a piece of bread and peanut butter helped to settle her so she could sleep. It was a strange feeling, one minute surrounded by a cheering crowd, the next sitting at a kitchen table, home alone, wired and tired.
When the milk was near boiling, she pulled it off before it scalded, poured it into a thick mug, then spread peanut butter across a slice of bread. Sitting back down, she surrendered to the first yawn, and as she devoured the snack, she began to feel the high beginning to wane.
As happy as she was at the success of the show and the acceptance of her new song, she couldn’t help but wish there was someone sitting across the table from her. Someone she could share the moment with, someone to talk to about the events of the day; her performance, Roy’s accident, the mountain lion that morning. Someone who would hug her when she was happy, and hug her when she was sad. Someone who would hug her just because.
Downing the last mouthful of milk, she stood up and headed to her bedroom, the weariness beginning to seep through her. Washing her face and brushing her teeth, she peeled off her clothes, and turning off the lights, slid into her bed. The moon’s glow washed her bedroom in its silvery light, and reflected off the glass of her phone sitting on her bedside table. She closed her eyes and was about to drift away when it jingled in the silence. Staring down at the screen, she saw the name and broke into a smile. Cody Cox.
“Hello, Cody,” she said happily, snuggling down under her covers. “How are you?”
“I’m great. Did Roy behave? How was the show? Did everything go well?”
“Yes, really well, but you were right about Roy.”
“Why? What happened?”
“He got drunk and plowed his truck into a tree down the road from The Cowbell. I don’t know why he left the show early, but at least he wasn’t hurt.”
“Drinking and driving, never a good idea,” Cash remarked grimly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He’s been drinking a lot over the last few months. I’m just glad no-one else was hurt.”
“Amen to that, and I’m sorry I can’t chat more, but I don’t have much time. I’ll be able to call you and talk tomorrow if you’ll be around.”
“I’ll be here, but, uh, I do have one other thing to tell you. It’s kind of exciting if you have another minute.”
“Sure, tell me, I’d love to hear about it.”
“Believe it or not, that very same morning you were here, Cash Colt was too.”
Cash felt his heart stop, and he had no idea what to say.
“I’m surprised your paths didn’t cross, because his big tour bus was at Jeb’s being repaired about the same time as your car.”
“Uh-huh, that is exciting,” he said quickly. “I’m really sorry, Becky, but I have to run. I’m really pleased you had a great gig.”
“Did you play tonight?” she asked, not wanting the conversation to end.
“Yes, I broke in a new song,” he replied, his voice softening as he recalled the magical moment.
“Really? Me too. How cool is that?”
“Very. Now I must fly, but I promise I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay, sorry if I held you up.”
“You didn’t Bye, Becky,” the hastily added. “You behave yourself.”
“Bye, Cody, I’ll try,” she breathed, feeling the familiar flip in her stomach.
Placing the phone back on her nightstand, she slid her fingers between her legs, the sound of his rich, warm voice and final warning words lingering in her mind. She imagined him standing behind her inside the barn, lifting her hair and kissing her neck, whispering his hot, needy thoughts into her ear. Allowing her imagination to take over, she heard his words...
“You need me to spank you, don’t you, sweet girl?”
She pictured him sitting on a hay bale, the one she kept near the tack room that she used when she pulled on her boots.
“Come on, young lady,” he ordered, grabbing her hand and yanking her over his lap. “These jeans need to come off…”
But a gushing, explosive orgasm rippled through her sex before her fantasy could go any further. She gasped and moaned and cried out as the eruption held her in its grip. When it was over, she sighed contentedly, falling asleep to a dream she believed might one day become a reality.
* * *
As she was drifting off, Cash, was watching the video of Becky’s show Jerry had just sent him. It had taken Jerry thirty-seconds to feel the magic, but Cash saw it in even less time. In his voicemail, Jerry had suggested Cash fast forward the video to Becky’s last song of the night, an original called, You’re A Stranger.
Cash knew there were people waiting for him in the party room, but the message left by the unflappable Jerry had been uncharacteristically animated and full of enthusiasm. Finding the spot where Becky returned for her encore, his instinct was telling him he was about to see something unforgettable.
Her velvet voice, her beauty, and her stage presence, was enough to captivate anyone, but there was more. The melody was instantly memorable, and the lyrics were universal. Most people had met someone to whom they had an instant attraction and then parted company, only to be shadowed by that someone for days. Staring at the screen, her image frozen in the phone’s tiny screen, he knew she had written about him just as he had written about her. The memory of the song he’d sung, wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed.
Moving quickly from the room, he hastened his step to the after-concert party, one guard staying at his door the other following. The room was packed, and he was immediately surrounded by friends and well-wishers. He could see Sam standing by the bar with Marilyn, and as he smiled and nodded and said his thank you’s to the endless flock of fans and admirers, he was able to make his way through the throng to join them.
“Cash, you were fantastic,” Marilyn declared, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek.
“Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it,” he replied gracefully. “I see you’ve met Sam.”
“I have, thank you. He’s been keeping me company.”
“Thanks, Sam. Sorry, but I need a private word with my manager here.”
He saw the look of disappointment in her eyes, and the forced smile that accompanied her ‘no problem’ response, but it didn’t prevent him from taking Sam’s elbow and moving him away.
“What’s up?” Sam asked, dismissing people as they approached with a look or a wave.
“I just emailed you a video of a girl I found. Please watch it right away. Fast forward to her encore. Use my dressing room.”
“Wow, okay,” Sam replied, and moved quickly through the room and out the door.
Glancing over at Marilyn, Cash spied her standing at the bar looking agitated. Under normal circumstances he would have joined her, but these weren’t normal circumstances. The threat of the book loomed large, and he had to work the plan. In seconds he was surrounded by well-wishers, and Tina bounced her way through the crowd singing his praises. When she managed to reach his side, she stood on her toes and whispered in his ear.
“My butt is still stinging like mad.”
“As I asked you earlier, are you complaining?” he grinned, a warning glint in his eyes.
She burst out laughing.
“No!” she exclaimed, then left him to chat with the other guests she knew and hadn’t seen in ages.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Marilyn downing what appeared to be a large scotch, then move unsteadily in Tina’s direction. Though warning bells went off in his head, he couldn’t get away from the small group surrounding him. Searching the crowd, he spied Lenny and was able to catch his eye. Their unspoken communication had evolved over countless hours on stage, and more parties than either could ever remember. Cash shot a look in Marilyn’s direction, and Lenny knew he needed to intercede.
A consummate conversationalist, Cash was able to continue talking with his guests, but still watch the world go by without appearing rude or disinterested. He saw Lenny engage Marilyn, who glowered at him, then impulsively turned and staggered towards the door. Turning towards Cash, Lenny winked and went out after her.
Lenny would find out where she ended up, and having no desire to become embroiled in a scene with the emotional and unpredictable girl, he focused his attention on the people around him. Sure enough, Lenny was back in a few minutes, and moving quickly through the room, managed to pull Cash aside.
“She found your car and crawled into the back seat. I think you’re safe, at least until you join her.”
“Thanks, Len. I’ll be leaving soon anyway.”
But a moment later, Cash spied Sam marching purposefully towards him. He knew what his manager was about to say. He wanted to meet Becky, sign her to a long term contract, and get her into a studio. If Becky wanted to jump in with both feet, Cash would do all he could to support her, but he needed to sort out other personal issues first. For that he needed Sam’s help.