Whiskey & Wine – By C.G. Burnette
WHISKEY & WINE
A RIGGS AT CEDAR CREEK SHORT STORY
BY C.G. BURNETTE
CASSIDY
I listen to the song's fading chords and ending lyrics about lost love and second chances.
The familiar husky-voiced crooner finishes his set on the outdoor patio of Riggs at Cedar Creek.
This bar and restaurant have always been a favorite for locals searching for the best food and drinks.
On weekends they can even find the best up-and-coming musicians on the patio.
Tonight is no exception, but this musician is very special to me.
His sandy locks flutter around his face in the cooling summer breeze.
I sit enthralled through the entire set, mesmerized by the man sitting on a tall stool serenading the crowd with only his guitar to accompany him.
He doesn’t need a microphone. His rich tone soars to the back of the patio, all the way to where I’m sitting and trying to blend into the crowd.
Of course I’m hiding. I can’t let him see me.
I made sure I sat near the back of the patio on the last couch.
His stare does things to my insides, and I am not ready to deal with it again.
But in my heart of hearts, I want him to see me.
I picked out this pale pink V-neck sundress with him in mind.
The neckline dips deep and shows off my chest. The dress is backless with thin spaghetti straps.
My skin is soft, the warm melanin on my shoulders shining. Open-toed sandals completed my look.
I haven’t talked to him, haven’t touched him in nearly five years. It has been the longest five years without him… but. There he is. Johnathan “Whiskey” Walker.
This is his joy, his element. This is his dream come true.
His music and sharing it with his fans. He was always so very talented.
When we were in high school, he either had a football or his guitar case in his hand.
He was one of the Four Horsemen of our state championship high school football team.
The quarterback with a voice as smooth as the drink he was nicknamed for.
I vividly recall how his singing comforted me when I was hurting, made me laugh in the silly times…
seduced me in the middle of the night when I should have been in my own bed instead of his.
As I sat on the oversized couch on the deck, his voice resonated with all the passion he poured into his craft.
His eyes were closed and his face… his beautiful face.
God. The one I have traced with my fingertips and memorized with my lips.
His cheeks were flushed now, his brow furrowed, and his emotions were on display for all to see.
The last time we saw each other, his face wasn’t filled with the joy I see now.
Oh, no. We were in my dorm room in the last semester of our freshman year at UNC.
His crystal blue eyes blazed with bright, angry flames, and his jaw was set in a firm line.
His words weren’t those of a tender lover.
Instead, they were the words of a man pulled in two directions.
One would lead to his musical dreams being fulfilled. The other to me.
“Cass, I’m never going to get a chance like this again.
College isn’t for me. I don’t want to wait another two years when I can play music right now.
I want this. Right now, baby. The agents want my songs now.
But I don’t want to live without you. Come with me.
Chase the bright lights with me, beautiful.
” His voice was laced with anxiety and fear, but there was excitement, too.
It was true — with this opportunity, he wouldn’t have to wait for a degree to begin living his dream.
His large hand palmed my cheek and he beseeched me to understand.
My mouth dropped and I shook my head at him. No. No. No. Why now? Why now, when we were both on the path we’d agreed to?
“Whiskey, you know I can’t. I’ve worked for this all of my life!
The extra classes and straight A’s… the sacrifice of all my time with you was all for this chance.
How can I become a nurse without school?
How do I make that goal a reality? What about your music degree and our plans for after school?
Please, John. Please!” I pleaded with him.
Grabbed his hands and lifted my wide gray eyes to his face.
Begged him to stay with me at Chapel Hill.
“Stay with me. Please. You promised you would try!”
He shook off my gesture and stepped away from me.
I couldn’t stop myself. I reached for him to bring him back to me, my brown hands shaking as I cupped his cheeks in my grasp.
The blue of his eyes was a turbulent storm brewing over a calm deep ocean.
I felt the burn of tears clog my throat.
I would lose him before we had a chance.
That’s all I wanted – a chance to see where we could go, without high school bullshit and families who didn’t understand what we meant to each other.
He was everything to me. Every stolen moment, every curfew I missed, every knock-down-drag-out I had with my mother over that boy . He was worth it all. He was worth the disappointed stares from my father when he walked into the house and saw us on the couch. If he would just… stay.
A heavy sigh fell from his plump, full lips. The same soft lips that had kissed me so sweetly, so hotly. The same lips whose smile would light up the room.
From the look of determination in his eyes, I knew I’d be alone when school restarted in fall.
“Cassidy.”
One word. Just one and I knew. The finality in his voice.
He was leaving. Not just leaving Chapel Hill or North Carolina.
No, he was leaving me and everything we were to each other.
For a moment the breath seized in my chest, my lungs froze and my heart cracked right down the middle.
I felt the first tears slide down my face.
I lowered my hands and gripped my middle, simply trying to hold myself together.
“You promised me,” I stuttered quietly. “You always have your way, but Whiskey. I can’t chase you this time. I just can’t.” I lowered my face and turned my back as the sobs wracked my frame.
I felt his long, muscular arms embrace me gently, my back to his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head and laid his cheek where his lips had been.
His long strands fell and lightly brushed my cheeks.
He was so warm and right there, but already so far away.
“Cass, I have to do this. Please understand. I have dreams, too. I have to chase them. But we’ll have the summer. ”
But he lied to me. We didn’t have the summer.
Just a week later, he received a call from Nashville while we were sitting in the park.
A big-time artist needed his help writing his next album.
I knew the call meant Whiskey’s dreams were coming true, but the life I cherished was coming to an end.
Things were going to be different. I just didn’t know how much.
Now, here I am, five years later and his smile still gets to me.
Makes me believe whatever he says is true.
Since the moment he drove away from campus, I’ve tried to ignore my lingering need for him.
The truth is I’m still chasing him and my want has only grown.
I’ve followed him on every social media account from Facebook to TikTok.
Who am I lying to? I’ve stalked him. Me.
The quiet nerd with a book always in her face has turned into… that.
Sigh. Wow. And to think I used to laugh at girls who couldn’t seem to let go. Those sad women I’ve heard being called five-alarm bunny boilers. The last thing I thought I’d ever do was be a groupie. Oh, how times have changed.
I’ve made sure to comment or follow him under a made-up name.
Definitely no pictures in the profile that would give me away.
I don’t want him to know I’ve been lurking on his pages, but I couldn’t help but wonder about him, where he was playing and who he was dating.
I won’t lie. The selfies with his fangirls hanging onto him, and seeing them screaming his name on online clips, made me want to stab people.
But Whiskey Walker is the newest, hottest act out of Nashville. And I’m just his ex.
I’ve gone to most of his shows. I’ve seen him open for big acts and headline smaller shows in intimate settings.
How could I not cheer for him? I have, loudly, and my shouts and applause have joined those in the crowd.
How could I begrudge him for fulfilling a goal he started working on when I was his tutor for sophomore-year geometry?
I couldn’t. He’s earned his success. If he is close to Raleigh, hell even if he isn’t close, I follow him.
Always chasing him. Always chasing my next shot of Whiskey.
I shake off the memories as applause and whistles fill the air.
People are standing and I hear Whiskey give his thanks to the crowd for coming out to see him.
It’s my cue to get moving. I’ve been to enough of his smaller gigs to know he’s going to do an intimate meet and greet, maybe sit with some of his fans for a while.
It’s part of why he’s so popular now. He’s approachable and wants to have his fans feel like friends.
The crowd at Riggs is different. This is home, and the bar is special to him.
To us. This patio holds a whole lot of wonderful memories.
The crowd is full of our friends, former classmates and the people who first believed in their small-town football hero turned platinum-selling country singer and Grammy-nominated songwriter.