Chapter Two
Buck
“Opal, she works in the kitchen over at Mail Order Ranch, right?” Sawyer leans into my forearm, focusing on my most recent piece. Two horseshoes framing a pine forest. I came out here to find love, instead I’m spending loads of money and time at the tattoo shop. It’s been so much that I’ve gotten to know Sawyer better than anyone else. He’s a down-home kind of guy. Drives a truck, works hard, wants someone to take care of.
“Yeah, that’s her. She agreed to go out tonight, but I’m not sure she really wanted to. I don’t know what I’m doing or why I can’t let her go. I mean, we barely know each other, but I’m obsessed like we’ve had a lifetime together already. It’s fucked up, man, ya know? Maybe I need help. Maybe I’ve been on the road too long.”
Sawyer swipes his rag over the excess ink and refocuses. “Nah, but you’re getting philosophical.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, what you’re asking is like wondering if flowers need water or sunlight to grow. It’s not one or the other. They need both. You felt something when you met. A spark, an emotional compatibility. Some might say you need that to make sense of time spent.”
“Good Lord, my guy. Maybe you should come out to Nashville with me and sit it in on a writing session.”
He stretches his back side to side, widening his frame. I’m a big dude, but this guy is massive. “Yeah, well, I’ve thought about this shit a lot.”
“You got a girl you’re missing?”
His head tilts and nods as he goes back to work. “Missing her ain’t the word. It’s this gut-wrenching pain whenever I think about her. I’m constantly wondering if she’s okay, if she’s happy, if she’s thinking about me, too. It’s hell. Years of this shit, and she’s about to marry another man.”
“Fuck. What happened?”
He draws out another line before rinsing my arm and wiping away more excess ink. “Wrong time, right person kinda thing… but that’s my story. I bet it’s the right time for you and Opal.”
I’m not sure if that’s the truth. I’ve spent the last year calling and texting Opal. I even looked her up on social media. Thankfully, she didn’t have much of an online presence. If she had, I’m pretty sure I’d have lost my mind. Either way, she didn’t return any message I sent, and she didn’t seem too happy to see me today. Maybe I’m the only one that felt anything that night we met.
“Why don’t you go after your girl? Talk to her before she gets married.” I scrub my left hand over my beard as Sawyer shoots me a ‘been there, done that’ kind of grin.
“If it were that easy, right? My Evie is stuck. She’s been stuck. I don’t know what I’d have to do to break her free at this point,” he laughs, “outside of a proper kidnapping.”
I grin. “Hmm… I hadn’t thought about that. I could see it as an option, though I hope it doesn’t get that far with Opal.”
“Me too.” He powers down his tattoo gun and pulls off his gloves, tossing them into the trash one at a time. “I’m sure you two will have a great time tonight. There’s plenty of sun, the weather’s been good, and you have fame and fortune to lure her in with.”
I laugh. “Hasn’t worked so far.”
“Really? The guitar and the money aren’t doin’ nothin’ at all?”
“Not for Opal. I think she was trying to avoid me at the ranch. Has been for months now. I mean, she had to know I was in one of the cabins. There’s been press and fans everywhere.”
He nods slowly as he squirts warm, soapy water over the fresh ink. “That’s gotta be the life, man. What’s it like up on stage, all those people screaming your name?”
This is the spot where I’m not sure who to be. People expect a specific answer. They want to hear how amazing it is to be the absolute center of attention. They want to hear how high it gets me, how wild it is to be the icon of millions of screaming fans. I get it. I remember wanting to hear stories of singers, too. When I first started, I would listen to old interviews with George Narrows. He’d go on and on about the details of being on stage. He’d tell folks about adrenaline, euphoria, the emotional release of sharing parts of yourself with the world. I think it made folks feel like they were on the journey with him. I need to get better at that aspect of showmanship.
“Honestly?” I pinch my lips together and nod. “It’s incredible. Don’t get me wrong, I love my fans and when I’m up on that stage, I’m doing what I love.”
“But…”
“But… there’s this part of me that stares out into that crowd and wonders what my life would’ve been like had I settled down, had a family, a little house out in the woods.”
“No one’s saying that part is over. That’s what tonight is about, right? Where you takin’ her?” He cuts a clear bandage and presses it onto my skin, smoothing the clear bubbles as he goes.
“I got a picnic planned down at the old mining camp. It’s a little off the beaten path, so I’m hoping we can get some privacy.”
“How bad is it? I saw the ranch was crowded with photographers and women when I stopped by for breakfast the other day. That’s gotta be hard.”
The masses of people are a side effect of fame I’m not used to yet. Not sure I ever will be. I was never that social to begin with. “It’s the name of the game. If I’m careful, I can usually sneak away. Though, there’s been times that didn’t go as planned. Last month I went out to the lake for some fishing, ended up leaving ten minutes after I got there because some jackass followed and wouldn’t leave.”
Sawyer readjusts the cap he’s wearing. “Damn. Here’s hoping that doesn’t happen up at camp. It’s one of the lesser-known spots on the mountain, so you should be good. Be careful, though. There was a family of bears down by the stream a few weeks ago, so keep an eye out.”
“I’ll take a hungry grizzly over paparazzi most days,” I laugh and stand from the chair, staring down at the fresh ink on my forearm. It’s only a small piece, but Sawyer is insanely talented. If I had any space left, I’d have him draw up a larger tattoo for me.
I drag in a deep breath and stare at him. “I really think you should go after your girl. She doesn’t have a ring on her finger yet.”
Nodding, he takes the cash I hand him. “I’ll use this to plan the kidnapping. Good luck tonight.”
We both laugh, though I’m not sure if we’re both kidding. Love does strange things to a person. I never thought I’d be obsessing over a woman I met for one night a year ago, yet here I am… desperate to get one afternoon with her. Desperate to make her mine.