Chapter 1 #3
I tried to remember who I’d been before this conversation.
“I’m going to work full-time at the conference center.
” I’d cater-waited there for the last four years, and I hated every minute of it.
Running around in the fake tuxedo uniform, scrubbing ranch dressing from my nail beds, fending off drunk firemen at their annual gala.
“Do you enjoy that?”
“No.”
He smirked. “Well, then. What do you think about coming to Nashville for the summer? I have paperwork I need you to sign, and we could take more time to go over estate business. You can be as involved as you want, of course, but it might be good for you to get a sense of it.”
I considered this. “Do I have family in Nashville?”
He sighed. “No, not exactly. I was led to believe that Belle had a few relatives where she grew up in rural Tennessee, but they’ve all passed.”
“Oh… okay.” Not that I was eager to meet more relatives after my track record, but perhaps her people would have been different. Maybe we would have understood each other in a way I never had with my dad’s family. “What do you mean by ‘not exactly’?”
“Well, she considered her friends as family more than the people she came from. And there are quite a few still living in Nashville. Do you remember any of them?”
“No, I… I don’t even remember her.”
He looked disappointed then, and something like sadness passed over his face before he shook it off. “That’s a shame, but it’s no matter.”
I had the keen sense of missing something important, but there was that child’s barrier still in the way, cutting me off from the dim, smoky layer of the world inhabited by adults.
“What was she like?” I asked suddenly, realizing this was, above all, what I yearned to know.
He smiled. “I wish I had known her better, but what I did see was… unexpected. She was never just one thing. I…” He exhaled. “I’m not very good at articulating this—I’m more of a numbers guy. It’s why I like representing artists like your mother. What they do is magical to me.”
I tried to conjure an image of her from these words, but all I could see were flashes of the Belle Powers I’d seen pictures of in magazines and throwback music videos.
The enormous blonde wig, the heavy makeup and hot-pink lipstick, the flashy, sequined outfits.
It was all shimmer and costume with no human beneath it.
“If you’d like to know more about her, coming to Nashville is a great start. I think the only way to truly know someone is to see where they spent their life.”
I had never considered going to Nashville—it was only a rhinestone-studded word that I put on forms when asked for my place of birth. My limited sense of the South came from movies like Steel Magnolias or Fried Green Tomatoes, and from its bloody history. None of these were specific to Nashville.
But perhaps it was where I’d find her and the mysterious place I’d sprung from.
“Okay, I’d like to go. When do we leave?”
He chuckled. “Eager, are we? Well, my flight is a few hours from now, but I can delay a night or two for you to get your affairs in order.”
“No, I’m good. I just need a couple minutes to pack.”
He raised his eyebrows. “All right, then. I’ll wait in the car outside while you ready yourself.” He got up, and I followed him to the door. He put a hand on the knob, then turned back.
“In case you weren’t aware, we send a sizable amount of money to your aunt and uncle every month to cover your living expenses.
” He looked pointedly at the oil painting of Dinah and her horse.
“They’ve made attempts to gain access to your inheritance in the last few months, but I’ve put them off.
As of today, the payments to them will end.
Now that you control the estate, you can decide how it’s distributed.
” He nodded politely, and then he was gone.
Carl and Lorraine were down the stairs before the door shut. “What did he say?” Lorraine hissed.
I was speechless for a moment, like those scenes in movies when a bomb goes off nearby and a person stumbles around with blood leaking from their ears.
I had never entirely believed my aunt and uncle about my parents. They were pathological liars, and even when they told the truth, I often questioned their version of reality.
But this level of deception was… unforgivable.
My bewilderment receded, replaced by the creature-like rage I’d felt when I saw the boys standing over Shelli’s body. “Everything you told me about my mother was a lie.” I clenched my fists and let it fill me up. “You had no right to keep this from me.”
Lorraine looked stricken, then narrowed her eyes. “I am your guardian—I have every right.”
“Not anymore.” I charged up the stairs and into my room, barely feeling the carpet under my feet. I slammed the door behind me and wedged the chair under the knob. The door shook as Lorraine and Carl pounded on its wood.
I yanked open my backpack and frantically stuffed clothes in from the dresser. Then I tossed in my makeup case, my Discman, and my soccer cleats.
For a moment, I panicked at having to fit my entire life into this small bag, but then I looked at all my cheap, worn-out crap, and I thought, Fuck it. I had money now. I could buy whatever I needed.
I had one foot out the window when Lorraine and Carl barged in, pulling me back into the room. Lorraine stuck her finger in my face, her cheeks red. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Nashville. And I’m taking my mother’s money with me.”
Carl blanched. “Now hold on a minute—”
“Mr. Blau told me he’s been sending you money every month.”
“Well, of course. For your upkeep. It’s not exactly cheap raising a teenager,” Lorraine said, feigning innocence.
I stared at her in disbelief. She couldn’t really believe I was that stupid. “Then you won’t mind if I leave,” I said as I tried to get around them, but Carl blocked the door.
“Don’t you think we deserve a little compensation for raising you all these years?” Lorraine asked. “We could have left you on the street, but we took you in and treated you like our own.”
For my entire childhood, she’d made me feel like I was the only thing keeping them from a perfect life. It’s why I’d stayed out of sight, kept quiet, worked since I was fourteen—all to alleviate the weight of my existence. “Are you kidding? All you’ve ever done was lie to me.”
“I was protecting you from the truth. From that trash who killed my poor brother.”
I stared at her smug, pinched face and imagined ripping her eyes from their sockets.
“I thought if you didn’t know, then maybe you wouldn’t be like her,” she continued, lowering her voice.
“But that was naive. I see her in you. The way you look at my husband.” She moved closer and whispered even more softly, “The devil’s in you.
I can feel it every time you’re near. Makes my skin crawl. ”
I pushed her off hard with my shoulder, and she stumbled back against the wall in surprise. When the shock wore off, she hissed, “I want you out of this house.”
“Don’t worry. I’m gone.” I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed for the door past a slack-jawed Carl. “Good luck paying for Cocoa Puff now,” I called behind me as I skipped down the stairs to their stunned silence.
That evening in my roomy first-class seat, I ate white chocolate raspberry cheesecake and sipped on my fifth free Dr Pepper.
I had always thought of being rich, or more precisely, the aspiration to be rich, as pathetic and unimaginative—the provenance of my aunt and uncle and their poor taste.
But I couldn’t deny that it was sort of fun.
The captain announced we were landing, and I watched with my face pressed up to the window as we sailed over the modest Nashville skyline with miles of fertile green spreading beyond it.
I searched for some recognition of my homeland, but it still looked foreign to me. A place waiting to be discovered.
Mr. Blau leaned over and took in the view. “You know, Belle was your same age when she first came to Nashville.”
“Tell me more,” I demanded.
He gave me a fatherly smirk. “The story goes that in 1967, when she was eighteen, she came to Nashville on a bus from the mountains with just a cardboard suitcase and her daddy’s beat-up guitar.
” He paused for effect. “She hopped off that bus, and just a few hours later, met a record executive at a honky-tonk.” He smiled, his eyes filled with the silver reflection of the city. “The rest is history.”