Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
Waking from a deep sleep the following morning, Cash recalled Marilyn, drunk and difficult, waiting for him in the back seat of his limousine. When they returned to the hotel he’d put her to bed, thought about joining Lenny’s late night party, but completely drained, he’d crawled between his own sheets, watched some mind numbing television and fallen asleep.
Now facing a new day, he had no desire to spend any more time with her, but she was unpredictable. She could continue looking for a publisher just to spite him. He had to keep her at bay until he knew Sam had all the pieces in place. Only then could he remove her from the tour and his life.
Sleeping well had never been an issue for him, and the hours after a taxing performance were no different, but even after so many years, he’d still not found any comfort being alone after a show. His martial arts disciplined his mind and his body, and after a hot shower he headed down to the gym to start the day with his exercises. Sam was joining him for lunch, and he had just enough time to get in his workout.
* * *
In his penthouse in midtown Manhattan, Sam was reading the newspapers and reviewing the accolades the critics had bestowed upon Cash and the band. The rocker was loved not just by his fans, but by the press. Sam knew it was because Cash wasn’t just a fantastic performer, but a genuinely decent guy.
Though tremendously talented and as successful, Cash hadn’t changed a bit since Sam had taken over his career. He had matured, and grown serious about certain things, but he was the same easy going, well-mannered, and courteous Texas country boy Sam had met over a decade before.
Cash was at heart, a cowboy, and why he’d chosen rock had always puzzled Sam. Early on, when Sam had asked him about his musical direction, Cash had told him he loved the energy of rock, the intensity of the electric guitars, and the joy he felt belting out a song. But Sam thought it was the country boy in him that gave him the depth of feeling in his ballads, like the one he had sung as his encore. He could often detect a trace of a twang in his performances, and he’d heard listening to the playback of Sapphire Eyes that morning.
The recording was clean, haunting, and memorable. He planned to run it by their producer, and suspected it would be released as a single just as it was. Pure, soulful, and perfect.
The country girl he’d had Jerry video was destined to be a big star. She was young, fresh, stunningly attractive, possessed the voice of an angel, and had songwriting ability to boot. She oozed authenticity, and Sam assumed she’d been singing about Cash, as Cash had been singing about her. From what he’d seen on the video, she really did have sapphire eyes. He could already imagine the headlines, Cash Colt Discovers New Country Star, Becky—what was her last name? Sam realized he didn’t know. He wanted her under contract before some other manager discovered her and locked her up.
But the immediate priority was dealing with Marilyn. She’d be a handful, but Sam liked women who were a handful. In fact he specialized in women who were a handful. He and Cash had that in common, though Cash was far more romantic and lenient, though he could be extremely generous and kind if he felt the young lady in question was deserving. Marilyn didn’t fit that description, and he knew exactly how to deal with her. He’d love to paddle her perfect backside, but he’d only spank her if they became lovers, which was not out of the realm of possibility. But turning his attention back to work, he scanned his calendar to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, then reached for his phone. He had to leave in just over half an hour to meet Cash for lunch.
* * *
While Sam was making his calls and Cash was working out, Marilyn was trying to open her eyes. Her head was pounding, she felt sick, and she couldn’t remember everything that had happened the night before. She knew she’d started drinking because Cash had been paying attention to everyone but her, but she couldn’t remember how she got back to the hotel and into her bed.
Assuming he’d brought her back and put her to bed, it dawned on her to check what she was wearing. Lifting the sheet, she discovered she was still in the designer silk dress she’d bought on her shopping spree the previous afternoon, along with the garter belt and stockings. She’d bought those as a surprise for him.
“What a fucking joke,” she groaned, and crawled back into a fetal position to sleep some more.
As she began to doze off, the image of an attractive man floated through her head. It was Sam Reed. They’d flirted, and she’d felt the tummy flip. With the hint of a smile, she drifted back to sleep.
* * *
At midday, Sam walked into the hotel restaurant and spotted Cash sitting in a corner. Indian blood from his grandmother, mixed with Irish and French on his fathers side, had given Cash distinctive features. Black hair, puppy dog, soft hazel eyes, unexpected pale skin, high cheek bones, and a gentle jawline.
“Hi Cash,” Sam said, sitting opposite him. “How do you feel?”
“Fantastic, that show was great. One to go. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to play in Texas. I know it’s not Texas Stadium anymore, but it’s still home to the Cowboys.”
“Your album sales are already through the roof, and that show will be one of the biggest rock events ever.”
“How are things on the Marilyn end?” Cash asked quietly, scanning the room to make sure no-one was in earshot.
“Under control. The Spanking Rockstar!” he muttered, shaking his head. “Unbelievable! I have to admit it’s a great title, but it will never see the light of day. She’s quite the vixen.”
“That’s one word for her,” Cash said with a frown. “I did mention the authorized biography as we discussed.”
“Good, who knows, maybe it’s something we should seriously think about,” Sam suggested, “under the right circumstances of course. I assume you’re going to gracefully part company when you head off to Dallas tonight?”
“That’s one of the things I need to talk to you about. You may not like this, but I want to spend this afternoon and tonight with Becky. I have a few days before the show, and I—”
“Hold on there, cowboy,” Sam interrupted, holding up his hand. “You’re right, I don’t like it. You need to be on that jet tonight and rest up for a couple days. The band will be on that plane and you need to be with them.”
“Sam, if I leave now, I’ll be at Becky’s by late afternoon, and I can fly out in the morning. I’ll be in Dallas by lunchtime. It’s just one night.”
“You told me last night this girl doesn’t even know who you are. Where will you stay and not be recognized?”
“That’s exactly why I have to go! I want to tell her before she sees a recent picture of me somewhere, but I need to spend some time with her before I walk that tightrope. I’m sorry, Sam, I have to do this. As far as where I’ll stay, I want Andrew to arrange a bus and have it waiting for me outside the town, somewhere out of the way. Anything will do. It’s just one night. A camper van will be fine. I don’t care.”
“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Sam exclaimed, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Here’s the bottom line, Sam. I’m going, and if you help me it will be much easier. Besides, you want to manage her, right? I can open that door.”
“All right,” Sam sighed, realizing Cash had made up his mind. “I’ll call Andrew and make sure you get a decent bus. He can figure out where to park it, and when you land you’ll have a car waiting to take you there.”
“Sam, thank you,” Cash smiled, “but just have a rental at the airport and I’ll drive myself. I’ll take an overnight bag, but I’ll put my things in a couple of laundry sacks and give them to Lenny.”
“Please, don’t worry about the mundane details. I’ll take care of all that. Pack what you need and get out of here. I’ll call Andrew to arrange the jet.”
“You’re the best! Now, about Marilyn,” Cash said, taking a breath, “I was thinking…” “You were thinking I should let her know you’ve left. Correct?”
“Uh-huh, and obviously I have no objection if you, uh, want to get to know her better.”
Sam grinned.
“I’ll be happy to tell her you’ve bailed, and I’ll also land a well-deserved smack on that perfect ass of hers if she needs it.”
“I tried that. It seemed to work for about five minutes.”
“We have different styles, and it takes more than once,” Sam remarked quietly. “I don’t even know if I’ll go there, but I know how to handle her regardless, and it’s better this way. She was hopping mad last night, and seeing you could get her all riled up again.”
“I think she’s redeemable, Sam. She pulled the plug on that reporter at the last minute. She’s just totally indulged, and I think she’s bored. She seems to have nothing to do except shop.”
“Leave her to me, and put that ridiculous book she’s threatening to write out of your mind. Trust me, it won’t happen.”
“Thank you. Without meaning to be redundant, you’re the best,” Cash said gratefully.
“You’re welcome, and maybe a few hours away will be good for you. Enjoy yourself, but please, be careful, and get back to Dallas in one piece.”
“I will, and I’ll arrive very happy.”
“I suspect you just might at that,” Sam grinned.
“Could you order me a hamburger and fries?” he asked, rising from the table. “I need to make a quick phone call.”
“Becky?”
“I’m not calling Marilyn,” Cash retorted, then marched away, heading for the small conference room at the back of the lobby.
Cautiously opening the door and finding it empty, he moved inside, pulled out his personal phone and called Becky’s number. She answered immediately.
“Cody, what a surprise.”
“Hi, Becky, I only have a minute, but I have some good news. At least, I hope you’ll think it’s good news. Do you have any plans later today and tonight?”
“No, it’s Sunday and the diner is closed.”
“My schedule has freed up, and I’d like to spend the afternoon and evening with you.”
“Cody, I would really like that,” she replied, her excitement bubbling through the phone.
“I’m glad to hear it. One thing though, I’ll be sleeping in a bus. Is there a place around there I can have it parked? Somewhere legal and safe?”
“Sure, my farm.”
Though a driver would drop it off and pick it up, he wouldn’t know it was Cash Colt renting the vehicle, and having it in Becky’s back yard would be great.
“Are you sure your father wouldn’t mind? He doesn’t know me.”
“He’ll be fine with it. We have a huge place. When you arrive just drive—”
“Sorry to interrupt, but I won’t be driving. The bus will be dropped off, then picked up after I leave. You have to have a special license to drive one of those things,” he added, hoping the explanation sounded feasible. “I’m just arranging it so I’ll have a place to lay my head.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to check into the local motel, or even stay here? We have two extra bedrooms. I’m sure dad won’t mind.”
He thought about it, but only for a quick moment. A camper parked in a field was one thing. Having a complete stranger in the home was something else entirely.
“That’s very generous, Becky, but the bus will be fine.”
“The motel is really good. It’s owned by—”
“Thanks, but the bus is better for me,” he said hastily, cutting her off.
He frowned. The conversation was not going as easily as he thought it would.
“Sorry,” she said, her voice suddenly quiet.
“You don’t have to be sorry, and I don’t mean to be mysterious,” he said, hating the odd turn the discussion had taken. “Having the bus parked in your field will be perfect. I love being in the outdoors like that.”
“Okay, so all you need is my address.”
“That’s it, and thanks, Becky.”
“It’s 5381 Harriford Road. We have three driveways. Whoever is driving should take the last one, it leads into an open field with trees along one side. You can’t miss it. If he parks under the trees you’ll have plenty of shelter and privacy.”
“You’re sure it’s no trouble?”
“Positive, and I can’t wait to see you again, though I suppose I shouldn’t say that.”
“Why not? I’m happy to hear it, and I feel the same.”
“Thanks, Cody,” she said softly. “When do you think you’ll get here?”
“I don’t know about the bus, but I’ll be there in about three hours.”
“I’ll have a pie waiting.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’ll see you soon.”
Ending the call, he immediately texted Andrew the address and directions, then headed back to the restaurant. It had filled up, and he dropped his head as he walked to the table, hoping no-one would recognize him.
“Everything sorted out?” Sam asked.
“Yep, I can park the bus on Becky’s property,” Cash replied as he sat down. “I’ve texted Andrew the information.”
“This girl Becky, she’s something special to you,” Sam remarked, a statement more than a question.
“She is, at least I think so,” Cash said thoughtfully, and as if ordained by the timing-in-life-Gods, the waiter appeared and placed a fat hamburger in front of him, surrounded by Cash’s favorite fries. Thick, large, and carrying their crusty skins.
Life was good.