Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Holt
“Thanks for the good time sweetheart, but I have somewhere to be,” I say to the naked woman on my couch.
“That’s all you’ve got to say? You don’t even want my name or number?” she asks.
I expect to see an annoyed expression, but instead I’m met with a knowing look.
I let out a relieved breath. “You and I both know that’s not what this was about. I’ll just hop in the shower while you get dressed to make this easy. I’d rather us part with good memories.”
Bending down, I pick up a piece of her clothing and toss it at her.
“Asshole,” she replies in a playful tone as she starts redressing.
A smirk tugs at my lips. “I’ve been called worse.”
“I can only imagine. Thanks for the good time, handsome,” she says as she pulls her dress back in place.
Leaning down, I pick up the discarded condom wrapper off the floor and walk to the bathroom.
Turning on the shower, I wait as the water warms and steam starts to fill the room. I relax instantly as I step under the hot water, welcoming it beating against my skin. Grabbing a rag and soap, I begin to wash my body slowly to give her ample time to leave. As the last of the soap washes off me, I turn the water off and reach for a towel to wrap around me. I walk out of the bathroom holding my breath. Relief fills me as I find an empty room. She’s gone, thank God.
The clock on the wall grabs my attention. Shit, I’m going to be late. Throwing on some clothes, I head out the door, grabbing my most prized possession, my acoustic, Southern Jumbo Gibson guitar.
Just as I crank my truck and put it in drive, my phone rings through the Bluetooth speakers. Paul’s name displays across the screen.
I shake my head already knowing how this is going to play out as I answer the call. “I’m on the way.”
An afternoon drink in that bar before my gig tonight was a bad idea, but I couldn’t walk away from the temptation of those pretty, long legs.
“You’re about to be up, and I can only stall a little longer. I’m your manager Holt, not your babysitter,” he says, clearly annoyed.
Pressing my foot down on the gas, I feel the truck surge forward. “I’m on the way, something came up.”
“Getting a piece of ass isn’t an excuse,” he says, but I can sense a touch of humor in his voice.
A smile spreads across my face. He knows me well. “Just a little warm up to knock off the edge, Boss.”
He chuckles. “Just get your ass here before they cut you from the list.”
Opening the old bar door, I scan my surroundings while making my way to the stage. Sliding onto the empty barstool, I adjust the microphone. My fingers strum across my guitar strings. “How’s everyone doing tonight? Sorry, I’m a little behind, Broadway sure has some tempting distractions if you know what I mean.”
I’m welcomed with clapping and hoots of laughter.
I grin. “All right, no sense in wasting anymore time. I’m Holt Hayes, and this is an original I wrote called ‘Sippin’ Somethin’ Strong’.”
“You say you only sneak out at night when you want to play.
Blood red lipstick, hell bent to find your prey,
It ain’t murder on your mind, but it damn sure oughtta be.
I’mma dabble on the dark side just to see.
If you are quite as bad as you said you would be.
You might be.
I heard you get around in a small town,
So come on over and let me lay you way down.
You got what I need,
Buzzing on nicotine.
I’m fading in and out of your neon eyes.
Come whisper my name, ninety-proof in my veins.
Ain’t nothing on your dirty little lies.
That black dress label’s,
Empty on the table,
’Cause you wear the sheets instead.
You ain’t top shelf whiskey, but damn girl you hit me.
Hell, I’m good as gone,
You’re more than sippin’ somethin’ strong.
I said let me take you to a place you ain’t been before,
Out where the warning signs hang from the door.
It ain’t murder on my mind but it damn sure oughtta be.
I’mma show you that dark side you wanna see,
’Cause I’m worse than the bad that you said you’d be, yeah baby.
You got what I need,
Buzzing on nicotine.
I’m fading in and out of your neon eyes.
Come whisper my name,
Ninety-proof in my veins.
Ain’t nothing on your dirty little lies.
That black dress label’s
Empty on the table.
’Cause you wear the sheet instead.
You ain’t top shelf whiskey,
Damn girl you hit me.
Hell, I’m good as gone.
You’re more than sippin’ somethin’ strong.
Oh yeah,
You’re more than sippin’ somethin’ strong.”
Applause fills the room as I finish the last song of my set, and exit the small bar stage with my guitar in hand. Performing on the big stage has always been a dream of mine, but it’s a long winding road to a successful music career.
Zane walks up giving me a slap on the back. “You’ve written some powerful songs, Holt. Keep the course, son. I’ve watched you grow over the years here; your time is coming. It’s always a pleasure to have you play in the writer rounds in my place.”
My chest fills with pride taking in his words. “You have a well-known bar, and I thank you for always inviting me. Your establishment has been a steppingstone in history for so many big time artists today. I hope I can follow in their footsteps.”
He straightens his cowboy hat. “I’ve watched a fair share of musicians throughout my life. You’ve got what it takes, kid.”
“I appreciate that.” I nod and shake his hand.
Paul walks up shaking his head. “You always redeem yourself.”
“Am I off your shit list now?" I ask.
Paul loves me. He just has to act like a hard ass at times.
He raises his eyebrows, amused. “For now you are, because that was a good set. Keep it up and limit the distractions. I’m out of here. I’ll call you later about the details of your next gig.”
I watch Paul walk away as a familiar face comes into view.
“Damn good show, brother!” Deacon exclaims, handing me a beer.
I smile.
Deacon is a genuine guy who I’m glad to have crossed paths with when I first moved to Nashville. He’s the type of person you want in your corner.
“Thanks brother. Want to grab a bite to eat here?” I ask.
He points to an open table. “I’m down.”
Deacon took me under his wing, and I will forever be thankful for our friendship. He supports me every chance he gets.
“How’s your mom?” he asks, as we take a seat.
I wince. I need to call and check in on her. It’s been a few days. “She’s doing well. I know she still struggles with hard days, but she’ll never let me know. I’ve got a break in gigs next week, so I’m going home to spend some time with her.”
He nods. “I know she’ll love having her boy back in town.”
“She asked the other night if I was seeing anyone,” I say, taking a swig of my beer.
He lifts his beer. “You tell her every night?”
I chuckle. “Mama doesn’t need to know everything.”
Looking up, I make eye contact with a beautiful blonde with long tan legs. She bites her lip giving me a seductive look as she approaches our table with another attractive friend.
She leans in toward me, placing her “girls” on full display. “You boys look like you could use some company tonight.”
A half smile slowly spreads across my face as I glance at Deacon. “Mama always said I never could turn down a pretty face.”
Looks like our night is fixing to get even better.