“Humility is admirable, but rarely achievable when living in the public eye.” ~ Johnny Outlaw
I wake up in the morning with a huge grin on my face. My heart is happy and life is good. The only thing that could make it better is if Dalton was home. I’ve got to see him soon—one way or the other.
But the twenty texts I have waiting on my phone wipes that happy delirium away in an instant. My world comes crashing down and I find myself struggling for breath. Dalton, Rory, Rochelle, Tracy, Sebastian, Tommy, my mother. Multiple texts from each, all with the same headline and photo…
Holli Hughes Leaves Johnny Outlaw for Hot Model.
Dalton’s text is first. My heart clenches when I read it: Call me.
His second: What the fuck, Holliday! Call me now!
His third: Why is your phone off? Are you with him?
His fourth: I love you. I loved you so fucking much.
His fifth: Call me.
I call him not caring about the other texts or what they have to say. Holding the phone to my ear with a shaky hand, I pace across our bedroom. I don’t give him a chance to speak when he answers, “I would never cheat on you. You believed them?” My anger replaces my nerves.
“I believed what I saw.”
“Well that’s perfectly convenient for you, but what you saw was a photo taken at a perfectly misconstruing angle, Dalton. How dare you! After all the pictures I’ve seen of you over the years. How dare you believe what you’ve always told me not to! You just assumed the worst… the worst of me, your wife, the person you committed your soul to—”
“I was sent that photo when it went live at four in the morning. Imagine how I felt when I saw it.”
With my hand on my hip, I stop, now even more annoyed. “And what were you doing up at four in the morning anyway?”
“I wasn’t. I was sleeping. But people love to share bad news. So maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly when I first saw it, but what the fuck were you doing with him? Why were you at dinner with him after what he said to me, after what he did to you? That fucker has some nerve.”
“It was a business dinner. Nothing more.”
“Your business needs to stop including men that want to fuck you.”
I gasp, shocked that he has the nerve to turn this around on me. “I did nothing wrong, Dalton, and I won’t apologize. You told me that you woke up to that photo, but I woke up to your texts. How do you think those made me feel?” Exhaling my exhaustion, I say, “I can’t deal with this right now. I need to go.”
He’s firm, his voice threatening, “Don’t hang up.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Don’t do this, Holliday.”
“I don’t want us to say anything we’ll regret and I’m close, so I’ll call you when I’ve calmed down.”
“I’m sorry.” His words are hurried. His tone is suddenly regretful, the defensiveness gone.
“I’m sorry too.” Delivered with a flatter tone, my apology comes for a whole other reason than his. I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry he lost faith. I’m sorry that I can’t stay and talk this through with him.
He could be king.
The words haunt me and I’m afraid they will eventually tear us apart. My beating heart pounds, aching in my chest, but I hang up anyway.
Standing at the patio door, I open it and step outside. With the phone still in my hand, I start to wonder if he’ll call me back or let this settle before attempting to talk again. Smog is covering the tops of downtown LA in the distance, ruining the view. I should be used to it, but it feels ominous in the moment and stands out.
Hours pass and the phone never rings. By two o’clock I almost expect to see him walking in the front door, but that can’t happen with him on tour. But Rochelle does come over.
I answer the door, sluggish and defeated. “I’m fine. You didn’t need to come over.”
Walking past me, she says, “Obviously I did since you never responded to my texts.”
I follow her to the kitchen table where she sets her bag down. She turns to me and asks, “What’s going on, Holli?” Her tone is calm and understanding, in complete opposite of Dalton’s this morning.
“It was a kiss to my cheek.”
“I knew you didn’t kiss him. But it looks really bad.”
“I can’t control how it looks.” With my arms crossed, I lean against the archway to the breakfast room.
“Have you talked to Johnny?”
“First thing this morning—”
“How’d that go?”
“How do you think that went?” I move to sit in a chair at the table, feeling too weak to keep my defenses up.
“I think he freaked out.”
“Ding. Ding. Ding. You win the prize.”
She sits in a chair across from me. “Are you okay?”
“Not really. He always told me not to believe what the tabloids post, to talk to him before jumping to conclusions. But he did exactly what he told me not to. He basically accused me of fucking Sebastian Lassiter.”
Reaching across the table, her hand covers mine. “Being on the road is difficult for musicians. They’re gone for long periods of time and have the world thrown at their feet, including women. Add in their own insecurities with the loved ones they leave behind and it can be downright ugly. But, being the one left behind while they live out their dream is even harder. I know. I’ve been on both sides and it sucks. Musicians don’t win. Significant others don’t win. The fans win. It’s the trade-off that’s given for living that dream.”
“It sucks.”
“Yep, it plain sucks, but you guys have worked through press stuff before. I believe you can again if you both give each other the support you need to share your fears and concerns. You have to stick together through this kind of stuff. You have to keep on loving each other, but more importantly, you have to continue to trust each other. Johnny wouldn’t cheat on you. He’s never been the type, but with you, I know he never would. I know in my heart. As for you, I know you well enough to know that you aren’t that type of person either.”
“I told him I needed to calm down before we spoke again.”
“Are you calm?”
I nod.
“Don’t wait then.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, then agree. “I don’t want him hurting.”
She stands and takes her bag in hand. “Then tell him.”
Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly. “I will.”
“I have to go. I need to pick the boys up from school shortly.” She walks to the door, but stops and says, “Holli?” I turn toward her and she adds, “Love each other as much as you can. Time is fleeting.” Rochelle walks out, shutting the front door behind her.
Her words are like a slap of reality. Time is precious and I don’t want to waste another second. I run upstairs and grab my phone from the dresser and call him.
“Hi,” he says tentatively.
“I love you. I would never cheat on you.”
“I know.”
“You forgot.”
“I wasn’t thinking about you,” he says. “I was thinking about him and knowing what he wanted to do.”
Sighing, something I feel I do too much of lately, I gather my thoughts. “Babe?”
“Yeah?”
“It doesn’t matter what he wanted to do, I’d never let him or any other man for that matter do anything that would break my vow to you.”
“These magazines and gossip columns, they’re in the business of selling sex to get people to buy their stories. That’s the bottom line. I get it. But that doesn’t mean that every so often there isn’t a grain of truth to be found. I’ve watched marriages break up after tabloids exposed their issues. The truth of the matter is that I don’t want any fuckers touching you. Sorry, if that feels like a double standard. That’s how I feel. Period.”
“Okay, that’s like all ego and pride. The real bottom line is you are going to have to trust me.”
“I trust you.”
“But? I know there’s a but coming.”
“But I don’t trust those assholes and I never will.”
I smile. “Fine. Don’t trust them, but don’t take it out on me then.”
“Deal.”
Slowly, we find our way back to each other despite the miles separating us. “If you must know,” I say, “You’re my dream come true.”
“Good thing you’re mine since we’re stuck together for better or worse.”
“For richer or poorer.”
“In sickness and health.”
I emphasize the next part, “And forsaking all others.”
His tone turns, the lighthearted gone. “For as long as we both shall live.”
Even though he can’t see me, I nod, but don’t repeat it. Wanting to hear the smile in his voice, I ask, “So we’re good?”
“More than good. Thanks for calling me back.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t?”
He chuckles lightly. “I wasn’t sure. All I wanted to do this morning was hop on that plane and come back, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to fuck things up more than I already had.”
“I love your surprise visits, but I don’t think Tommy and the band would’ve been too happy since you have a show tonight.”
“No, probably not. Not to forget the fans.”
“Yeah, they wouldn’t be happy at all.” I sigh. “They would definitely blame me.”
“You can’t let that stuff bother you. It’s not gonna change. They know what an asshole I am, so it’s easy to blame you for everything. It’s bullshit and everyone who knows you knows that.”
Not wanting to feel like the woman who is destroying the great Johnny Outlaw, I roll onto my side and close my eyes, hearing Ashley silently taunting me. Whispering, I say, “Today has sucked to say the least, but you don’t need to worry about me, Dalton. I’m going to take a nap and work tonight. It will all be fine.”
“Okay. So I’ll talk to later?”
“Yes, I’ll call you.”
“Love you, Baby.”
“Love you, too.”
I set the phone next to me and lie there staring up at the ceiling. I don’t want to hold him back if he can be even greater than he is. My lids drop down as the heaviness of the day sends me drifting away into sleep.
“When did things get so complicated?”
Tracy eyes me. “Are you kidding me? You and Johnny have always been complicated.”
“I guess,” I reply absently, staring out the large window in my office.
“You are crazy in love with each other.” When I peek over at her, she sits up from the couch, and adds, “You have a love to be envious of…”
I follow her out onto the patio. The sun is shining and almost distracts me from my mission. She leans against the wall that faces the ocean. I join her, but keep my eyes on the distance so she doesn’t feel under the microscope. “How are things at home?”
She smiles and it’s genuine, taking away some of my worry. “Good. Your love may be envious, but mine makes me happy. We’ve never been the over the top kind of passionate love, but we’re steady and that is all I need.”
“Steady sounds good.” I confess, “Sometimes it feels like the world is conspiring against us.”
“When it comes to you guys and the love you share, you two are the most qualified for the job.”
I smile this time, turning back to face into the wind. “Applicants need not apply, the job is taken.”
She giggles. “Exactly. It may get bumpy, but try to enjoy the ride.”
“I love that man so much. I hope no matter what crap comes our way, he can remember that.”
“Are you referring to the tabloid stuff? This was inevitable even without the photos. Interest in you has grown as fast as the company. I’ve been getting calls about you and Sebastian.”
“The ad campaign comes out in three weeks. Dalton’s going to be tested once more when those photos come out.”
“He’ll handle it. He loves you. It’s a set of ads selling a product. That’s all. You can send them over to break it to him gently if you like.”
“It’s a set of ads selling me and Sebastian as a couple to sell underwear.” Turning my back to the wall, I say, “I’ll make Dalton forget all about it. I’ll remind him of how good we are together.”
“Maybe you two need to be in the next campaign together.”
“Tracy, you just might be onto something there.”
“That’s why I’m paid the big bucks.”
“You’re paid the big bucks to work.” Nodding toward the door, I say, “Let’s get back to it.”
“The fun is over. A smartass lime is calling.”
Dalton promised I wouldn’t be lonely and he was right. If I wasn’t chatting with him, I was receiving deliveries from each destination he visited. Barbeque sauce from Kansas City. Peaches from Atlanta. Fresh crab cakes flown in from Maryland. These gifts arrived every two days or so and I couldn’t wait to find out what was in them. His love felt packed in with the thoughtful gifts and started to fill in the lonely spaces that he left behind.
For New Orleans, he sent a chef to make dinner for me, Tracy, and Rochelle. Jambalaya, red beans and rice, blackened fish, buttery biscuits, bananas foster, and beignets. We wore beads and had our own Mardi Gras right here in the house while drinking Hurricanes. “I’m gonna have a raging headache from these drinks in the morning,” I speak loudly before turning the jazz CD down so we can talk.
Rochelle rubs her stomach. “I’m never eating again. Did we really need three main courses, bread, and two desserts?”
Tracy laughs. “Yes, we needed it all. What’s sad is that we ate almost all of it too.”
I add, “It was too good not to.”
Rochelle plops down on the couch next to Tracy. “The dancing burned some of it off, right?”
Tracy and I shake our heads and I say, “If it didn’t, I don’t want to know. I just want to enjoy.”
Tracy says, “This has got to be the best gift ever.” Sitting up, she leans in scheming. “Where does the band play next?”
Rochelle’s much quicker than I am, but it is her job to know these things so I’ll let her have the glory. “Houston.” She looks at me as I sit in a chair and kick my feet up. “Aren’t you from Houston?”
I nod. “I sure am. My mom still lives there.”
Rochelle asks, “It’s funny, but you never really talk about your life before you came out to Cali.”
Dropping my head back and closing my eyes, I reply, “My past is exactly where I want it to be—in the past. It’s boring. I could totally fall asleep right now I’m so stuffed.”
“Maybe we should meet the guys in Houston,” Rochelle suggests way too innocent for her own good.
Tracy sits up abruptly. “A getaway would be fun.”
“You could bring Adam,” I suggest.
“He would love to hang out with the band and see the show,” she adds enthusiastically.
Leaning back on my elbows, I roll my neck to the side and look at Rochelle. “So you’re in?”
“I’m in.”
Clapping her hands together, Tracy says, “It’s settled. We’re off to Houston in the morning.”
And just like that, I was heading back to Texas…