CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

Corbin

 

“That was a blast man,” Jason said, shaking out his lanky dirty blond hair.

I sat back in the booth and sipped my coffee, needing the caffeine. It was only midnight, but I was wiped. I rubbed my gritty eyes. Jason had offered to put me up at his place for a few hours’ sleep before my flight took off in the morning. It had been a long, hard day and night, but he and I had hit up the dive near the recording studio to get a cup of coffee in celebration.

We’d been successful in the recording, getting the tapes over to the producers by the midnight deadline. Thrasherville had held up as we worked on those songs. One of the songs was a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am song, and we got it out of the way in under two hours. The second song, though, needed work.

A shit-load of work, actually.

I’d pulled out a red pencil and some blank sheet paper and reworked some of the lyrics and quite a bit of the melody. Jason and his band members had even opened up to my suggestions of throwing in a little zydeco sound in the song, and had even called a couple of friends to join us, a guy who played fiddle and a guy with an accordion. I’d felt alive doing the work, that same buzzing sensation in my gut I’d had playing with Bayou Beaux.

It felt good to be connected to the music again, good to be writing. I missed Aimee, though, and I wanted to kick myself for all the times I’d razzed Liam and Tucker about being in looooove. What would they say in return, knowing that I was head over heels for a woman I’d just met a few days ago?

To be honest, I didn’t care. I’d let them skewer me all they wanted, so long as it meant I got to spend the summer with Aimee.

Aimee woulda gotten a kick out of me adding in some zydeco sound to a heavy metal recording. I even shared Daniel’s information with Jason, told him to hook up with the guy if he ever needed a fiddle player.

“How’s Tucker? Liam? Wes? They all good?”

We’d gotten to work so fast Jason and I hadn’t had time to play catch-up, so I filled him in on the gang, smirking when Jason rolled his eyes when I talked about how serious those dudes were over those women. He’d understand when it happened to him.

“You happy with Point Break?” he asked. When I raised my eyebrows, he added, “You used to be a sinner, not a saint, and you loved the wild life something intense. Not as intense as me, but you know…” He let his words trail off. Jason didn’t talk about it much, and I never made a big deal about it, but he’d had a bad episode where he’d almost O.D.’ed on heroin. He’d been sober for about three years, and I was damned proud of him.

I forced myself to think about my life with the band. My life without Aimee, that I was supposed to return to once summer ended. I loved the guys in the band as if they were my brothers but… “Course I’m happy,” I finally said.

“Huh.”

“What’s that ‘huh’ supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “You seemed a little less enthused than I’d figured you’d be, is all. If I thought that I could lure you away from the fame and fortune of Point Break, then I would. Although I’m wondering if maybe I should try.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, tossing a sugar packet at him. “You could never afford me.”

“I know. You come with all those lawyers, agents, and hangers-on that the rest of us mere mortals can only dream of,” he drawled, sipping on his drink. His tone wasn’t bitter—Jason wasn’t that type of guy—but I could tell that he missed me. We’d come up together in all the grunge bands and the totally off the road shacks around Cook County. When we first started playing together, I’d barely been eighteen, but the gigs had been good for keeping my mind off Kara and the way she’d messed with my head, so I’d played like I had the devil on my tail. And because I played so much, I got good—fucking amazingly good.

Eventually, when Tucker and Liam had been looking for a good bassist, they’d heard through the grapevine about my reputation. I’d moved on from playing with Jason to the ultimate high life in the blink of an eye.

Still, I did miss the days when life was a little less crazy. There was just something different now after having been on the world tour, something I’d never touched before in me. It was becoming just too many hotel rooms, too many bus rides, and I was feeling empty. At least that was the only explanation I had left. But something was changing inside and maybe everything that glittered wasn’t golden after all.

“It’s a good ride,” I said, not wanting to sound like I was ungrateful for all that Point Break had given me. “But there are days when just being out in a more intimate venue feels amazing.”

“I hear you, man,” Jason said, grinning. “Sorry for the moping. I just meant that, I guess, I wasn’t expecting you to join me for the sober fun.” He indicated the coffee cups sitting in front of us. I could have ordered something alcoholic, but had felt a need to support Jason in his sobriety. And oddly enough, since the world tour had ended, I hadn’t been drinking nearly as much as I had been.

“First,” I said emphatically, “you’re one of my best friends and I resent that you’re talking about yourself like you’re some kind of burden. So you’re choosing not to get trashed? So what? I respect the hell out of you, man, for getting your life together.”

“Thanks. It’s so hard on the road. That’s what I hate most about it. It would be so easy to slip or get into terrible habits, to fall back on what’s easy. I never want to do that.”

“And I don’t think you will,” I added, sipping my own drink. The coffee was strong enough to take rust off a Buick. Just the way I liked it. Miss Cecily had served it the same way. L.A. was always some frothy crap that was basically nine-dollar warm milk. “No, it’s my pleasure. I’d stick around, but I have to get back to Louisiana.” An image of Aimee, her dark curls bouncing on her olive colored shoulders as she sat naked in my bed, giving me an adorably cute wink, set my cock straining against my jeans.

“Louisiana, huh? I mean, I get that you’re winding down from the world tour, but the swamps in the middle of nowhere is where you want to be?”

“I know it sounds weird. Me, the guy who thought the city of Milan was too boring. This town…Pontmaison?”

“Yeah, never heard of it.”

“Not surprised. It’s basically three thousand people, a roadhouse with a house band that plays music that makes angels dance, and roads that barely are. I’m talking not paved and bumps all over. It’s a real trip.”

“Well, yee-haw,” Jason echoed, putting on a shitty Southern accent. “That how you got that necklace you’re wearing? Looks a little down-home to me.”

I fingered the stone hanging on the leather thong around my neck. The rock warmed under my touch, and I could swear for an instant I could smell my Granny Tilda’s nut kringle baking in the background. “Friend of mine gave it to me.”

“Quite the fashion statement,” he said sarcastically.

“It’s not meant to be.”

“So why not take it off?”

Shrugging, I said, “It means something to the old lady who gave it to me. And to the girl who adores her.” I paused as a big dopey grin crossed my face. “She’s quite the girl, too.”

Jason chuckled long and hard. “There’s always a girl, buddy. They’re everywhere you look. This one can’t be any more special than the last.”

The attitude sucked and I wanted to punch him for a minute. I had this anger boiling over in my damn gut that anyone—even a good friend—would say that about Aimee, but I got my inner Hulk under control. Jason hadn’t meant to be rude. He was just saying what most rockers thought. I mean, come on, before Tucker had come back to the States so happy with his Nikki, I never would have thought he’d be capable of settling down. The fact he has? I want to say it gave me hope. That my intense feelings for Aimee, despite our short acquaintance, gave me hope, as well. But as much as I like Aimee, miss her, think of her as mine, think she’s special, that doesn’t mean I can have her forever. Hell, not even past summer.

Because Cindy was right. She didn’t want to be with a musician, and I was one on steroids. She’d never accept my rocker lifestyle and I couldn’t expect her to.

I was on vacation, living in a fantasy bubble in Pontmaison. It was great, and I was going to enjoy it while I could, but it wasn’t reality. And for all my restlessness and thinking that maybe I was searching for that someone special, just like Liam and Tucker had in Abby and Nikki, part of me still believed that it just wasn’t meant to be for me. That after all the crap Kara had pulled, I’d be a fool to think otherwise ever again.

To trust another woman again.

Still, it hit me suddenly, knowing just how special Aimee was, that when I moved on at the end of summer, so would she. We hadn’t talked about past lovers, but I knew she had to have had plenty. There would probably be plenty after me.

And even the thought of that had my stomach twisting and brow furrowing.

So fine. Fuck it. Someday she’d belong to someone else.

But for now, she belonged to me.

I wished like hell I’d gotten her cell phone number or email. Right then, I decided to find the number for Evangeline’s. Call and ask someone on the staff for her number. Or leave her a message there. I’d left her that note, and if Aimee was the woman I thought she was, she’d understand, but something was suddenly burning in my chest, warning me that I needed to get hold of her, and get hold of her fast.

 

* * *

 

Aimee

 

The Friday night crowd at Evangeline’s was a little subdued and had cleared out early, I realized tiredly as I cleared a few glasses off the bar. We weren’t even up onto closing time yet, but not many people were left in the joint. Remy was busy checking on a backorder in the office, so I’d offered to watch the bar for a bit. A summer storm had blown in early in the day, shutting down electricity to the entire town and wreaking havoc with the phone lines. I’d taken the rare opportunity to sleep in a little, since I’d had no way to do my usual early morning baking. But I was still bone-deep exhausted, even with the extra few hours of sleep.

I had a sense my exhaustion had less to do with my perpetual lack of sleep and more to do with the fact Corbin had walked out on me, without a word. Just the mere thought of being abandoned made my stomach pitch and heave. I’d been grateful when, by mid-afternoon, the power had come back on and I’d dragged my exhausted ass over to Evangeline’s to help with the dinner and night crowd. Beth—for once—was feeling well enough to handle her shift, but because of the storm, Remy needed a little extra help, and tips for a bartender were good. And I needed every damned dollar I could put into my bank account, with my loan about to be signed.

I turned when I heard the door open, frowning when I saw Cindy walking in without my Uncle Daniel.

“Hey Aimee,” Cindy called.

“Hi, Cindy. Where’s Uncle Daniel? And why are you here? Thought Bayou Beaux were playing in New Orleans for the week.”

“Elmer Lamell called. He wants us playing at his daughter’s wedding tomorrow night—her band backed out ’cause of the storm. Tallulah’s a sweet gal—of course Daniel said yes. Sent me back early to grab our sound system stuff. We were hoping that Corbin would still be in town, that mebbe he’d play with us at the weddin’. He’d tol’ us he was sticking around Pontmaison for a bit. Did he ever take a room at Miss Cecily’s?” She gazed at me with innocent, wide eyes—the kind of wide eyes gators had before they bit you.

My cheeks heated up. “You set him up. You set us both up, sending him out to Miss Cecily’s the way you did. You should be ashamed of yourself for meddling that way.”

Cindy grinned. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not,” I argued.

“Those cheeks of yours are as red as an apple in September. What happened between you two? Because something did, and you can’t hide it And where is he?”

“He’s gone, Cindy. He’s never coming back.”

“What? But he said he’d stay until we got back. And the way he looked at you… You sure he’s gone?”

“Sure as I am my granny’s pushing up daisies. We were getting to know one another and then one day he just up and left, cleared out his room without a word.”

“Maybe something happened and he had to leave town fast,” she argued.

“Without leaving a note? And I never gave him my number, but he could have called Evangeline’s landline. Nope. He’s not coming back, Cindy. He’s just…gone. And I really don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

She took some time in responding, allowing me to wallow in my misery for a tad bit longer, then finally said, “Well, sugah, it sucks he left, because I can see it hurt you. I hope that in that ‘getting to know one another’ stage, there was at least some good stuff thrown in?”

I wanted to shout that yes, there’d been good stuff, but it wasn’t worth experiencing due to the pain that came afterward, but I hesitated. Cindy looked so worried and guilty, probably because she was blaming herself for sending Corbin to Miss Cecily’s in the first place—and I couldn’t lie. The truth was, Corbin had given me something good, something I’d always remember, and despite everything, they were memories I’d cherish.

I’d just have to make sure I learned my lesson and never make the same mistake again.

“Yeah, he gave me good stuff, Cindy. So no worries. He didn’t break my heart.”

He’d definitely cracked it, but I’d heal. I’d heal and move on and pursue my dreams. And someday, when I had a good man, and a child I doted on, I’d think of Corbin and if not smile, at least be comforted that I’d done something reckless in my life. Something wild.

And it hadn’t broken me.

Cindy patted my arm then headed toward the stage.

The door blew open again, letting in Brad and Elmer. I flinched. Why couldn’t they have found somewhere else to get a drink tonight, of all nights? I gave them a weak smile as they bellied up to the bar. I poured the two Lamell men their drinks in as friendly a manner I could muster. But as I turned to go, Brad reached out a hand and grabbed my wrist.

“Excuse me?” I said, raising an eyebrow high and yanking my arm back.

Brad responded by flashing me a big cheesy grin. “I hear your date for tomorrow night is no more.”

Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. Great. Even Brad knew Corbin had taken off. The humiliation burned. Bad enough I’d had Cindy’s sympathy, now I had Brad gloating about it?

“Means there’s no reason why you can’t go with Brad now, is there?” Elmer’s smile was genuine. He seemed to be holding onto some sort of fantasy that I’d end up with Brad, but didn’t he understand Brad and I were so very wrong for each other?

“Hey, Aimee.” Remy’s voice interrupted the conversation, which was a good thing because I had no idea what to say to Elmer to convince him to drop the idea of me and Brad. “Found this on the floor in the office. Looks like it had fallen off the desk or somethin’.” He handed me an envelope which had my name handwritten on the front. When I hesitated, he said, “Go ahead, open it. Whatcha waitin’ for?”

Brad and Elmer’s eyes were on me, an almost mocking smile on Brad’s face. I shot him a look but didn’t have the time nor the inclination to figure out what his attitude was all about. Because a tiny spark of hope had lit within me. Could Cindy be right—had Corbin left me a note? With shaking fingers, I ripped the envelope open. Inside was my weekly paycheck from Gator Ventures and a note from Earl.

I stared, the numbers not quite making sense. The amount Earl had written the check for was a good hundred dollars short. I flipped the check over to see Earl’s chicken-scratch handwriting on the back of the pay stub.

Check reflects payment for hours performed. No hours given on day of accident. Next time don’t let tourists fall out of the boat.

I crumpled the note and threw it into the trash.

“I had a little conversation with ol’ Earl the other day,” Elmer said. “Heard about the mishap, and the fact you weren’t gonna get your full paycheck. This won’t cause a problem with you gettin’ the money pulled together for the loan now, will it, missy?”

The threat in his words was real, and I heard it. A hundred dollars might not mean a lot to some people, but when you’re pinching every penny, the loss stung. “I’ll make the payment, Mr. Lamell, don’t you worry,” I said firmly, but inside worry clawed at my gut and my knees wobbled.

 

* * *

 

Corbin

 

I’d only slept a few hours and had arrived at O’Hare early, only to find my flight delayed. A big-assed summer storm coming off the Gulf of Mexico had butted heads with some weather pattern coming down from Canada. The mutual mayhem had delayed the flight, which had then been rerouted to Dallas before hopping over to Lafayette. The morning flight that should have gotten me to Pontmaison by noon had taken an additional ten fucking hours. I was beyond pissed.

But the trip had sucked more because I hadn’t been able to reach Aimee. I’d called the landline number to Evangeline’s before the flight took off but the phone had just rung and rung, going unanswered. After I landed, I called again, twice. This time I’d gotten through. Remy, the bartender, had answered both times. The first time he’d said she wasn’t there and refused to give me her cell phone number, then the second time he’d mumbled something about Aimee being busy and had promptly hung up on me.

I put pedal to the metal in the GTO, doing my best to avoid potholes and rocks on the road to Pontmaison, a dull feeling hitting my stomach. Aimee wasn’t going to turn into another Kara, right? Punishing me for not being there twenty-four/seven, not picking up the phone at the first ring, not answering texts the second they’d been sent? Fuck. I couldn’t exactly ask Remy if Aimee was avoiding my calls. If I’d just gotten her cell number myself, I could just call her privately and not rely on whatever weird bullshit was going on at Evangeline’s.

Once I finally got back to Pontmaison, I headed straight to the roadhouse, sending dirt and gravel spraying when I slid the GTO to a sudden stop. But when I rushed into the bar, the place was like a ghost town. Daniel wasn’t around, but Cindy and their unconventional washboard player were sitting on a couple of stools on the corner stage, playing a bit of acoustic guitar to the few people who were left.

Damn it. Maybe I should have dragged my ass out to the boarding house first to check if Aimee was there, but Remy had said Aimee was working. I’d assumed she’d still be there by the time I arrived.

Cindy saw me walk in, and she immediately spoke into her mic, saying she needed to take a quick break. After setting down her guitar, she came over to the bar and glared at me. If she were actually tall, that death-stare of hers would have been terrifying. As it was, I felt like my balls were on the damn line, even if I wasn’t quite sure why.

“What the hell are you doing here? You forget something?”

“I had a—” I began, but she poked one finger into my shoulder hard.

“Seriously, what makes you think that you can just come back here after how much you made Aimee cry?”

Her words shocked me…and filled me with an uneasy feeling of dread and distaste. “What?” I asked, but she turned and stalked out of the building. For a moment, I stood there, stunned, wondering if I’d been wrong about Aimee, after all. Was she just like Kara? Clingy and controlling? Unable to let me out of her sight without freaking out? Unable to accept that sometimes I’d have to do things on my own and willing to talk shit about me to others in revenge?

My stomach churned but I forced myself to take a deep breath. No. I refused to believe it. Not about Aimee.

I followed Cindy out onto the porch. “Hey!” I called, and she froze and turned to face me. “You don’t get to say I made Aimee cry and then walk off. You owe me an explanation.”

Cindy rolled her eyes with exaggeration, adding that extra bit of “fuck you” to me. “I’m serious. How do you just show up here after ditching Aimee? Sneaking off without so much as a word like a real coward, that’s what you did. Do you know how humiliated Aimee was? She put up a good front, but I saw her crying. I’ve half a mind to skin you myself and then let Daniel feed your remains to the frigging gators.”

“Whoa!” I said, my worry for Aimee building, along with frustration at how this situation was unfolding. “I didn’t sneak off. I tried to find Aimee to explain about this commitment that came up, and when I couldn’t, I left her a note under her office door.”

“Bullshit. She never got a note.”

“I left one explaining everything,” I said, feeling like I wanted to tear my hair out. “Ask Beth. She gave me the paper and pen. And that asshole Deputy Brad saw me write it. He even offered to give it to her, in fact. I know he’s the long arm of the law or whatever bullshit you guys have around here, but he seems about as trustworthy as a big, fat New York sewer rat. I didn’t trust him, so I slid it under Aimee’s office door.”

Cindy narrowed her eyes. “You really left a note for Aimee?”

I held my hands up, palms facing her. “Swear to God.”

She swore and shook her head. “Fucking Brad.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get a good picture of what a rat bastard he is. He helped himself to that note, didn’t he?”

“I know he did. We may never be able to prove it, but he’s a jerk and he’s been pressuring Aimee since forever to go out with him. If he saw a way to easily get you out of the picture, that asshole was going to take it,” she answered, her eyes blazing. “He’s the worst, and I hate that he’s the long arm of the law. He’s always on one or another good ol’ boy power trip.”

I shook my head, pissed as hell, and dug my car keys out of my pocket. Time to go find Aimee and make things right. But first, I needed to set things straight with Cindy. Playing with Bayou Beaux had given me a way back into that part of me that loved music, that felt a connection to the world, and I didn’t want to fuck that dynamic up. “Okay, well, I’ll find a way to deal with Brad, but Cindy, you have to believe me that I didn’t mean to abandon her. I know about her mom and her bio father, and how her mom always ditches her. I know how hard it is for her to trust anyone. If one of my best friends hadn’t been in a shit spot back in Chicago and if I hadn’t owed him big time, I never would have left at all. There’s no way I would have done that to her.”

“I believe you. You say the word ‘Brad’ and I think there’s some serious foul play involved. And I think I know what he was up to by stealing that note.”

“Yeah, he was making me look like an absolute fucker. Like I ran off without telling Aimee.”

She shook her head and jerked a thumb back at the quiet Evangeline’s. “It’s more than that. The reason the place is so dead tonight and the rest of the band ain’t here is because there’s a wedding tonight.”

“That wedding Brad was trying to talk Aimee into going to as his date,” I said flatly. “That’s tonight?”

“Yessiree.”

“Where’s the wedding?” I ground out.

Cindy shook her head. “You’re too late. The reception was out at the Grange. They shut that place down at ten. She’ll be at home by now, or headed there.”

I didn’t wait to say goodbye. Just jumped in the GTO, revved the engine, and headed to the boardinghouse.