Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
I an
I go silent after the comment knowing the reason for my hesitation is coming from fear rather than disinterest, yet not knowing how to voice it without sounding like a pussy.
“Tell me why,” Savannah says softly.
My first reaction is surprise that she isn’t pissed off. My second is uncertainty. Her request is a simple one but opening up to her, knowing I’d make myself vulnerable is something unfamiliar because I’ve played life so close to the vest since getting straight. But, if ever there was a time to test this friendship, it’s now. “What if I fuck this up?”
“What if you do?” she quickly responds. “It’s only?—”
“Dinner. I know. But we’re good now, Savi, you and me, and that little girl who puts a spark in my life I didn’t know I was missing. If I fuck up …” I choke thinking of the ramifications, struggling to put my thoughts to words. “Savannah, this … this life I’ve got … this peace I’ve found … I can’t los—” The tremble in my voice nearly exposes me, so I stop talking.
“This life you’ve fashioned for yourself is safe, Ian. It isn’t going to slip away.” She assures.
I clear my throat and strengthen my tone. “Listen, you’re a reasonable woman. You followed the band. You’ve read the things they printed about me. There’s a reason they called me asshole Ian.”
“Were the reasons valid? Were you an asshole?” The questions are sincere.
I huff out a laugh. “Well, yeah. I guess I was.”
“And now? Are you an asshole now?”
My posture deflates, and I wipe my hand over my face, thankful she can’t see me right now. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how I can judge my own character. I mean, that first night at Sam’s, I was kind of a prick to you.”
“And I was to you.” She pauses. “I’ll tell you what; show up. That’s all you have to do. Show up for our dinner and honor your commitment to take me out. Don’t think about what’s happened in the past. Don’t worry about what will be in the future. Show up. Stay present. What happens, happens. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yeah, but?—”
“No buts,” Savi interrupts. “Dinner with me. A friend. A simple commitment. I’m holding you to your word and I’ll leave the door unlocked so I can fluff up my hair and finish getting ready.”
Leaving me no room for thought, she disconnects.
* * *
I twist the doorknob. It’s unlocked, just as she said.
“Savannah?”
“Be there in a minute,” she calls, the sound of her voice trailing down from upstairs.
I walk around the living room, meandering to take in her style, and pause to look at photos on the mantle above the fireplace and strategically placed on top of a piano. Most are of Gigi at different stages of her life, and I can’t help but smile. She’s a cutie and these photos catch her in the silliest poses. I don’t know much about babies, but she wasn’t all wrinkly and squishy-faced, but more round and rosy-cheeked. She’s got a sparkle that doesn’t fade from picture to picture, and I find myself smiling as I look at each one.
On the other end of the mantle, beyond the central photos of Gigi, are images of Savannah and a man and woman, whom I’m guessing are her parents. The resemblance between the two women is uncanny. Their smile in the photo shoots a pang of envy through my heart. The affection reflected in the images is almost palpable, and most definitely something I’ve never felt. I shove my hands in my pockets and nod. I’m happy for her. She’s lucky to have this collection to hold onto. I guess I am too. I have one photo of my mother: none of my old man.
As I move about the room draped in creamy colors, I find myself relaxing. Even the mountain of Gigi’s toys in the corner is nice and neatly stacked next to a large wooden box with her name painted in pink script lettering.
“Hi.”
I turn at the sound of her voice, and the vision causes my breath to catch. If I thought Savi was pretty before, she’s even more so now. Confidence fills her every step as she crosses the room like a queen with a demure smile filling her red lips. Black stilettos dangle from her fingers. With her back straight and chin held high, I can’t think of a more perfect example of elegance and grace.
“I was admiring your taste. It looks nice in here.”
“Thanks,” she says glancing left and right. “It’s a challenge to keep it this way. The minute Gigi wakes up, the toys come out. She’s got more in the family room which is typically more an obstacle course than living space.”
She drops her shoes on the carpet and slips her feet inside. Instantly she gains a few inches putting her at eye level with me. The simple black dress and sun-colored hair are all she needs. Clearly, I’m out of my league.
“You look beautiful,” I say, my voice exposing a bit more awe than I intend.
She smiles, a hint of a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Thank you.” Tipping her head toward her shoulder, she gives me a coy look. “You’re not too bad yourself.”
“Thanks.” I pause to enjoy this moment. I’ve been around hundreds of women—maybe thousands—but none compares to the woman standing before me. Those eyes and that smile are like a kick in the chest. This is so new to me, and the emotions so clear and fresh, I have a new appreciation for my sobriety. Pleasure and pride sink into me in a new way, and I feel the effect all the way to my marrow. I believed there was nothing left of me after Dash died, but the effect of Savi’s nearness is proof you can breathe new life into bone dust.
“Speaking of Gigi …” I scan the room. “Where is she?”
“Sam picked her up a few minutes ago. He took her to Cora’s for me.”
“I didn’t realize he’d been here already. I was hoping to see her.”
Curiosity tips her head. “You sound disappointed.”
“I am, I guess.”
“You’ll see her soon,” she assures. “Tonight’s for the adults.”
I look around. “Adults?” I tease. “You say that as if there’s more than one in the room.”
She rolls her eyes, tucks a small, beaded purse under her arm, and issues a look. “Well, this adult is famished. Ready?”
I capture her arm, and she looks down at the spot.
“Something wrong?” she says as she looks up and meets my eyes with her beautiful blues.
“One minute.”
Her brows pinch.
“Just, thank you. You talked me down off a ledg?—”
“Dinner. Remember? No pressure.”
Her eyes twinkle and I lose myself in her gaze. I breathe in a deep, fresh supply of oxygen clearing away troublesome thoughts, savoring this moment and the way she makes me feel like a million bucks. The pink hue in her cheeks warms in intensity and the sight causes a tightening in my chest. Looking into her eyes, I bear the sweet squeeze with ease.
* * *
The drive to the restaurant is quiet and easy, both of us content to listen to the soft jazz filling the space. When we arrive, I park, and she reaches for the door.
“Stop.” I place my hand atop hers. “Let me, please.”
She pauses, clearly understanding my intent as she nods and waits patiently. I come around the car, open her door, and offer her my hand. As we approach the entry door, she stops while I hold that door open as well, then slips her arm through mine as we approach the hostess. “Reservation for Barrows.”
“Of course, Mr. Barrows.” The woman looks down at a seating list on the dark oak stand as she retrieves two menus. “Follow me, please.”
We do, trailing behind her to a beautiful, shaded courtyard. It’s a joined outdoor space in the rear of four buildings. In each corner, they’ve mounted large fans, cooling off the Nevada heat. The buildings are old, but the age adds character to an otherwise bland space. In the middle is a huge, three-tiered fountain. Water trickles down the sides, providing a tranquil setting. We follow our hostess to a table for two, topped with a crisp, white tablecloth and a low-sitting floral arrangement with a candle lit within a globe in the center. Soft, lush, creamy blush-colored roses are framed with bunches of smaller blooms, so slight they seem to float around the bigger flower heads. I look over at Savannah who’s soaking it all in. We steal a quick glance at each other as I hold the chair out for her and then take my seat.
“Your waiter will be with you in a moment,” the hostess chimes as she hands us menus.
Savannah gives me a look then follows the woman with her eyes. Once the hostess is out of hearing range, she leans toward me with a hiked brow. “Barrows? As in Dash?”
“Yeah.” I shrug it off. “It’s probably not an issue these days, but I didn’t want my name to trigger any camera-happy sleaze bags.”
She nods, indicating she understands, and we turn our attention to the menus, making small talk about what sounds tasty. When our waiter arrives, he interrupts the chatter. After reciting the specials of the day, he takes our order for drinks, then disappears as soft Italian songs play in the background.
“I’ve never been here before, but Cora says the food’s delicious,” Savannah says, breaking the silence.
“It’s definitely a change from Mad Dogs.”
“I like it,” she says, wrinkling her nose. Her eyes light with delight as she glances around the room. “It’s cozy.”
I agree with a nod. Over her shoulder I see the waiter approach with our drinks. He offers me a sample of the wine and I hand it to Savi.
“I think the lady is a better judge of what she’d like.” The man defers to Savi.
“It’s delicious,” she says, approving. He pours more into the glass, takes our order, and leaves.
“So, what do you like to do in your free time?”
“Free time?” Amusement sparkles in her eyes, the effect highlighted by the flickering candle. “There’s little of that in my life. I’d say, when Gigi’s asleep, normal house chores are done, and when it gets quiet, I like to read,” she answers. “But I also love being outside. Gigi and I go for hikes or walks. I like getting her out of the house to appreciate nature. She loved your ranch, what she could see of it.”
The sound of Savi’s voice is something I could listen to all day. It’s soft and sweet, and I find myself taking mental note of her interests.
“What about you?” she asks, turning the tables.
“I like working on my ranch. It beats going to the gym.” I shrug indifferently.
“What I could see of it is beautiful. It was a little hard to tell in the dark.”
“You and Gigi are welcome anytime. You should come out during the day. I think she’d like the chickens. I have a few different breeds, so I get some pretty colored eggs. I also have a horse. She’s a rescue and really sweet. It’s almost as if she appreciates her new home. I haven’t named her yet. Maybe Gigi could help me pick a name.”
“Oh, she’d love that! She loves animals.” Savannah’s radiant smile lights up the room and it fists my heart. I could look at her all night and never grow tired of the sight. The gentle slope of her nose. The delicate curve of her lips. The twinkle in her eyes when she talks about Gigi. I take in every aspect, committing them to memory.
Our conversation continues to flow easily as we wait for our food, and I find myself relaxed in Savannah’s company. She has a way of putting me at ease, and I feel as if we’ve known each other for years instead of months.
“Ian, I know some about your time with the band and I know Sam’s your sponsor, but would I be imposing if I asked more about …”
“You want to know what led me to the straight and narrow path?”
“Well, yeah, I guess. You always hear stories about rock stars and their excesses.”
I pause, pressing my lips together as I inhale a deep breath.
“No. Forget I asked.” She waves me off, quickly dismissing her request. “I’m a little too curious for my own good.”
“No, I’ve got nothing to hide. Everybody’s got a story and, honestly, so much misinformation’s been written, I’d rather tell you mine in my own words. The tabloids fed the public whatever would make them the most money because that’s how it works.”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Not possible. The truth is it goes way back. My problems started when I was a kid, but then, therapists always ask about your childhood.
When I was a kid—not much older than Gigi—I feared the boogeyman. My room was dark. The white walls picked up shadows from the window and those were scary as shit when I was alone in bed, but not when I was with my momma. With her, I felt safe. We were alone a lot because my dad traveled for work. I was her friend. Her confidante. She talked to me like I was a grown-up. Most of the time I didn’t understand what she was telling me about her relationship with my father. She confused me more than anything. One minute she was mad at Daddy for going away, and then, in the next, she would praise him for being such a hardworking man. There were fits of anger. She’d throw things and break them against the wall, yelling and screaming she didn’t need him. She scared the hell out of me when she got like that. I’d hide under the bed. Eventually, she’d pull me out and we’d get down on our knees and pray that God would keep Daddy safe. That’s what led to mine and Momma’s ‘tea parties’.
She’d chatter while the water boiled, telling me about how she met Daddy at a coffee shop and how he promised to take her to Paris. I’d listen while the tea steeped in the pot. Then she and I would sip from Mamaw’s China teacups. It was a special brew, Momma said, one that would help us sleep and have good dreams.” I look down at my hands as the memory engulfs me, then release a long exhale before looking up at Savi. “I didn’t realize until therapy that it was Rock n Rye. The tea was sweet, like the rock candy she bought me on my birthday, but the brew burned as it went down my throat to my belly. I thought it was the temperature, but it was the alcohol. She’d make me drink two cups every time. Then we’d go back to bed. I’d fall asleep, escaping the boogeyman, as she pet my head. “Goodnight, Peaches,” she’d say so soft and sweet that it lulled me into a dreamless sleep.”
Suddenly I realize my focus drifted and I turn my attention back to Savi. “That’s what started me escaping my pain and I didn’t stop chasing the numbness until I overdosed.” I lean back in the chair, taking in the shocked expression she tries to hide. “Anyway, that’s enough of my history. Dinner’s here.”
She says nothing as the waiter approaches and sets the plates on the table, once he’s gone, she reaches for my hand.
“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, and I appreciate you sharing it with me.”
“It is what it is. Ancient history.” I nod and we both look down. I have a massive mound of spaghetti and meatballs in front of me, and she ordered a dish of manicotti. She closes her eyes, inhaling a whiff of the meal.
“Mmmm. This smells delicious.” She takes a sip of wine, then pushes away from the table. “Excuse me for a minute. I want to wash my hands.”
As she stands, the chair legs catch on the ground and Savannah misjudges the distance. She bumps the table, hard. The water and wine glass topple, and the plate of steaming spaghetti slides from the table and lands right in my lap.