Chapter 9
Darren
Garrett and I both returned to work the day after Wayne’s funeral. I’d been in a melancholy mood after things hadn’t gone according to plan with Bailey. Fortunately, my boss, co-workers, and clients didn’t question my mood or try to be intrusive.
I knew the time was coming when I’d start to spill my guts, and my cue was when Garrett and I were in the company truck, riding toward an A/C install job, and Bailey’s new song came back on the radio again.
Garrett laughed. “Still really fucking weird.”
“Hearing her on the radio?” I asked.
“Telling you, Bailey Wright’s gonna put Rome, Georgia on the map just by being from here,” he said. “If you would have told me anyone from here was going to make it onto the Billboard Top 100, I’d have said you were batshit crazy. Yet, there she is.”
No matter how many times I’d heard her voice over my car stereo, it never ceased to amaze me. I was completely in sync with Garrett on his assessment. She and I had talked about having music careers and making a living doing what we loved for so many years. I never thought either of us would actually make it. Even though one of us had, it still hadn’t fully processed with me.
“How was dinner with you two last night?” Garrett asked me.
“There wasn’t dinner last night after all,” I replied.
“Why, what happened?”
I laughed. “Eh. Sort of got stood up.”
“Ah, shit,” he said. “Damn. I guess she can do that now that she’s big time.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I said. “I didn’t think she was going to want to hang out like that right after her dad’s funeral, you know?”
“Well sure, but she invited you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe she stood you up on purpose,” he said.
I shook my head. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“Ah, I don’t know dude,” he said. “I was talking to her friend Leah at the funeral.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s probably nothing,” he backtracked. “Just that she said Bailey was really disappointed that you didn’t chase a music career with her. She really wanted you to go to Tennessee with her. She was upset that you didn’t go with her for a long time, supposedly. Like, years.”
My heart dropped. “Years?”
“Years. As in many,” he confirmed. “Evidently, you stayed on her mind.”
Now, the idea of her blowing me off didn’t even remotely bother me. I’d convinced myself that after she left Rome, everything and everyone within the city limits no longer crossed her mind. Except her dad, of course. The idea that she kept me anywhere within the recesses of her mind bothered me.
“Tell you what,” said Garrett, smacking my shoulder. “We should go out tonight, have some drinks and take your mind off her.”
“It’s Wednesday,” I told him. “You want to go out drinking tonight?”
“Hump day, bro,” he nodded. “We can go chill at Bart’s Bar. They do that music thing every other Wednesday.”
“Oh, yeah,” I remembered. “Fine, I’m down. Let’s do that tonight.”
That “music thing” that Garrett was referring to was something Bart’s did twice a month where it was an open-mic night for music. Bart’s was a local bar where they let people from the crowd go up and play music or just sing, if they felt more inclined to do karaoke. It was usually embarrassing, loud, obnoxious, and a lot of fun.
Garrett and I got to Bart’s just a little before nine, hoping to arrive to a decent crowd but still find a suitable seat. We bought some strong drinks, a pitcher of beer and got comfortable as we watched some guys from a garage band butcher a Nirvana song.
“Lot of folks here tonight!” Garrett yelled over the crowd.
I nodded, scanning around to see if I knew anyone. Most of the guys alone or in groups were older, and the cute girls all had a guy with them.
“Some hot chicks here, too!” he continued. “Which ones should we buy drinks for? I’m eyeing that blonde near the left of the stage. See her?”
“Her boyfriend went out for a smoke,” I informed him.
He groaned. “Really? Shit, I wanted a piece of that.”
“I don’t think there are any single chicks here tonight,” I said.
As we nursed our beers and pounded our rums and vodka, we found ourselves singing along with the terribly humiliating performances that took place in front of us.
“You should go up there!” Garrett suggested to me.
“And play with what?” I asked. “I don’t have my guitar.”
“Borrow a guitar from one of these fuckers on the stage,” said Garrett. “None of them are using them right, anyway.”
I laughed him off while also considering it. The guys on stage did suck.
Shortly after the guys on stage finished, I became aware that two single women had finally walked through Bart’s doors. And, oddly enough, Garrett and I knew them well.
Bailey and Leah entered, looking too sexy for their own good and grabbing the attention of nearly every man in the place. Bailey had on a blouse that was revealing but tasteful, while Leah had a dress on that left little to the imagination.
The girls went straight to the bar with purpose. I elbowed Garrett and pointed them out to him.
He chuckled. “I’ll be goddamned. That’s a sign right there, brother.”
“A sign?”
“These are the girls we’re supposed to drink and hook up with tonight. Let’s go to the bar and get some shots.” He winked.
“Hold up, man,” I said keeping him down. “Settle the fuck down.”
“Why?” he asked in disbelief.
“Because!” I yelled. “She didn’t want to see me. She came here to get away from me. Probably to bang some guy she doesn’t even know and will never see again.”
“Dude, don’t talk like that,” he said shaking his head. “That ain’t you.”
Garrett stood up and stared over at the girls, hoping one of them would notice us.
Unprompted by Garrett’s annoying looks, Bailey managed to spot us through the sea of staring faces. She and I locked eyes, and for a moment, I thought she was going to grab her bag and run right out the door.
Instead, Leah looked over and saw us too. They got their drinks and headed over to us, occasionally being stopped by horny gawkers.
“Here they come,” I said anxiously.
“What the hell are you so nervous about?” Garrett asked. “We’ve known Bailey our whole life, and her friend walked in wet.”
“Clearly you haven’t paid attention to a word I’ve said.” I sighed.
I stood up, ready to greet the girls. I pulled up two chairs to join ours.
“Well, well,” said Bailey grinning. “Fancy running into y’all over here!”
“No kidding.” I laughed. “Small damn world.”
“It sure is,” she agreed. “Are those chairs for us?”
“Who else?” chimed Garrett.
We all gave each other quick hugs and settled into our chairs.
“So, what brought you ladies here tonight?” Garrett asked them.
“Bailey told me about this place,” Leah answered. “It sounded like a lot of fun! I wanted to come check it out.”
“How about that,” Garrett said. “And y’all got drinks? The gentlemen have to get the drinks!”
“You can buy the next round,” Leah said.
“So, what’ve we missed?” Bailey asked us.
“Well, you missed a woman that sings in her church choir totally mutilate a Donna Summer song,” I told her.
“Ah, I hate when that happens,” Bailey said.
“She looked like she wanted to go again,” I said. “You bring your guitar? You could go up and there and play whatever you want before you get too recognizable to go anywhere.”
“I’ve been singing and writing for like a month straight,” said Bailey. “Right now, I just want to relax, have some drinks, and turn off the world for a while.”
“How are you doing?” I asked her. “You know, with everything?”
“Well, how is anyone after their dad dies?” she asked rhetorically. “I’ll be fine. I’m not great, obviously. But in time, you know? How’ve you been?”
“You mean since I saw you yesterday?” I laughed.
“Hey, a lot can happen in a day, you never know.”
“I’m okay. I’m not great, either. I miss your dad, too.”
“I do, too,” Garrett chimed in.
I was nervous that there would be uncomfortable tension or bad vibes after she chose not to meet up with me before, but thankfully it was all good. Neither of us mentioned anything about the other night or even any recent night.
What we did talk about were days and nights that I hadn’t thought about or discussed in many years. The more we all drank together, the more we’d all reminisce about the old days. Poor Leah was mostly an audience member since she only knew Bailey, but she was enjoying hearing tales of old. We talked about it all: high school antics, road trips that had gone horribly wrong, bonfires. Even simple, funny anecdotes that had no purpose or deep meaning were awesome to talk about. All of it made me realize how much I missed how things used to be.
Once Bailey and I had too many drinks, Garrett had taken over as the main conversationalist. It became difficult to contribute because he mainly directed the conversation at Leah. Garrett was good at telling stories, so Bailey and I didn’t mind slouching back.
“I still remember the first time Bailey ever tried alcohol,” said Garrett.
“Oh, God,” Bailey groaned. “I’m gonna get sick just thinking about it.”
We all laughed.
“What’s the story?” Leah asked with intrigue.
“It was during the first high school football game of the season,” said Garrett. “I was almost graduated by then.”
“Yeah, I was only a sophomore,” said Bailey.
“Darren and I were no strangers to liquor by then,” said Garrett. “He’d been trying to get this girl to drink for years. We didn’t think she was ever gonna drink.”
“And, look at me now!” shouted Bailey, nearly falling out of her seat.
“We snuck in a flask with some rum,” Garrett said.
Leah laughed. “You gave her rum for her first drink? You didn’t start her out with beer or something?”
“Nah, I think we figured if we were breaking the rules, we might as well really break them,” said Garrett. “And, she downed it like a trooper.”
“I always hold my liquor, Garrett,” said Bailey obviously drunk.
“But,” he continued. “After we all drained that flask, and right around halftime, we walked by the concession stand to get some water and food to kill the buzz a bit. The adults were starting to get suspicious.”
“Of course,” said Leah.
“But, unfortunately, that turned out to be a mistake,” he said. “We got there, and they were preparing turkey legs on the fryer, and the smell was fucking awful.”
Bailey had her head down, turning bright red and avoiding everyone’s smiles.
“She took one whiff of those greasy fucking legs,” he continued. “Then—”
Bailey looked up like she was going to finish his sentence, but held her tongue. So, I finished it for her:
“She vomited all over the concession stand. She was grounded for like a month.”
“Two weeks,” Bailey corrected.
“Oh, shit!” said Leah, dying of laughter. “That would happen to you.”
“Tell me about it.” Bailey rolled her eyes.
“So, why were you trying to get her drunk?” Leah asked me jokingly. “Trying to get her under the bleachers?”
“Leah!” snapped Bailey.
“Nah, nothing like that,” Garrett answered for me. “He just wanted her to have a good time. Right, Darren?”
“Precisely,” I affirmed.
“He could’ve gotten her under the bleachers without the aid of booze, believe me,” continued Garrett. “Everyone always said they were going to end up together.”
Bailey and I were caught off guard. We awkwardly chuckled, looking at each other and shaking our heads.
She laughed. “Okay, Garrett.”
“She wouldn’t have gone under the bleachers with me, and you know it,” I added.
“I’m not so sure about that,” he said. “Everybody knew how you guys felt about each other.”
“Who?” I asked. “Since when? No one ever said anything to me.”
“Of course not,” he said. “They said it behind your backs.”
“So, guys and girls can’t be friends, I guess.” Bailey sighed.
“Well, to be fair, you two did eventually end up together, right?” asked Leah.
Bailey and I looked at each other for several quiet seconds, waiting for the other to answer the question.
“I guess we did,” said Bailey.
“I won’t speak for Bailey, but trust me,” said Garrett. “Darren here has been ready for Bailey since practically the day he met her. I grew up with the two of them, Leah, I can vouch. Darren’s always had feelings for Bailey.”
“Okay,” I interjected anxiously.
“And,” he continued unhindered. “There was never any other girl, as far as he was concerned. I was so sure these two were gonna get married after high school. Then, Bailey had to go and get famous and forget about all of us. But, he’d still take you under the bleachers, Bailey. His fire still burns bright.”
“Okay, Garrett, enough,” I said in aggravation.
“Oh, really?” said Bailey with amusement. She was staring at me, and I refused to meet her eye contact.
“Garrett is drinking,” I remarked.
“You’re drunker than I am,” he said. “Trust me, if Bailey moved back to Rome, he’d probably propose on the spot.”
“I definitely would not,” I said feeling warm. “Garrett is saying a lot of things.”
“But, are they true?” Leah asked me.
“Hey, why don’t I show you ladies my new tattoo?” I said in desperation.
“You have a new tattoo?” Bailey asked with interest. “Show Leah the one you got right before I moved.”
I rolled up my sleeves to show them the tattoos on my arms. On my right arm, I had a treble clef note inked just a few centimeters from my shoulder. And, on my left arm, I had a tattered lasso running down with dried blood splattered randomly along it.
“Wow,” said Bailey as she admired the lasso, my newest addition. “I love it.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Leah said. “Did you design it?”
“Yep,” I replied. “I’m really proud of it.”
“You should be,” gushed Bailey. “It’s fucking hot.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really, now?”
As the night progressed and more drinks were consumed, the group had broken fully into sub-groups. Bailey and I talked while Leah and Garrett talked. My chats with Bailey were brief. Most of what was being said was being said in our silences. Garrett and Leah never stopped talking. It was also clear to Bailey and me that they were digging each other.
Eventually, after we’d all watched at least twenty singers and musicians perform poorly on stage, Leah was ready to leave. She was decently wasted, and since Garrett was only moderately tipsy, he offered to drive her to her hotel. They left together, much to our delight.
“That would happen,” said Bailey. “Our best friends hit it off with each other.”
“What do you think’s going to happen?” I asked.
“They’re going to fuck each other’s brains out,” she said. “Then, they’re going to fall in love and name their kids after us.”
I laughed. “Wow, that escalated quickly.”
“So,” she said. “I have to know. Tell me about the girls you’ve been with since we ended things.”
“Not much to tell, really,” I admitted. “I never got into anything serious. I dated. But it never got past a certain point.”
“So no names? No ‘Brittney’ or ‘Kayla’?”
“They were all pretty much the same,” I said. “Nothing special. Just women that I passed the time with. Sorry if that sounds depressing.”
“Not at all,” said Bailey. “I really relate to that, actually. There have been guys that were in my life, but nothing ever serious. I haven’t been in a serious thing with anyone since you.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true. There’s no one like you, Darren Holt.”
We stared into each other’s eyes, lingering. In that moment, I wanted to grab her, pull her into me, and kiss her passionately.
“I’ve missed you,” I told her.
She stood up from her chair, never breaking eye contact. “I keep thinking one of these days I’ll wake up and see you standing there outside my door. Guitar in one hand and a suitcase in the other.”
She eyed the stage, biting her lip and contemplating.
Before I knew it, Bailey Wright was on the stage. She’d borrowed a guitar from another bar patron, sat on the stool, and just began playing. She didn’t introduce herself, and the crowd didn’t seem to recognize her.
She performed “Lovesong,” a song originally by The Cure. Her version was closer to 311’s, which was the one that we used to sing together often. She was enchanting, instantly capturing everyone in the place. No one was talking. Everyone was listening to Bailey and her beautiful singing and playing. I never wanted it to end.
Bailey Wright’s light shone brightly. The place erupted into applause after she finished, with many shouts of “Encore!” I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted to pull her off the stage and taste her sweet lips.
She stumbled off the stage, traipsing over toward me. She nearly fell over. I was able to catch her just in time.
“I’m a little drunk,” she said giggling. “I’m sorry to ask this. But, could maybe you drive me home?”
“No worries,” I said in her ear.
“Or maybe you could take me over to your house. What do you think?”