ACE
Iris and I make the quick drive to the small town center of Sarahsville for an appointment with her grandmother’s attorney. I’m glad Iris has the day off to come with me. I don’t get to spend every waking minute with her anymore since she’s gotten a job. It’s amazing how lonely the trailer park can be now that I have to find things to fill my days.
I’ve busied myself doing odd jobs for the elderly residents around me. Earlier today I repaired a window that had been broken in Adele’s trailer for the better part of six years. In exchange, Adele made me a home-cooked meatloaf for lunch.
I miss Iris like crazy when she’s gone, but I respect her like crazy for working hard to save her childhood home, and I’m glad I’ve been able to be helpful to the people she cares about.
Iris points out the attorney’s office, an old blue two-story house set in a historic-looking neighborhood. It’s just down the street from the small grocery store I first stopped at when I got into town. I’ve been waiting all week for Mr. Stern to have time to sit down with me to go over my contract, and I’m hoping he has some good news for me.
When I put the car in park, Iris says, “I have to warn you about Mr. Stern’s secretary. You lucked out when she wasn’t here when we dropped the contract off.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Okay . . .”
“She’s a talker. The less said, the easier it’ll be for you to get away.”
I chuckle. “So be polite, but don’t talk much. Got it. Anything else?”
“Nope.” Iris smiles, and I can’t resist leaning in and stealing a small kiss before we get out of the car.
The moment we walk into the old house that’s been turned into an office, the secretary with a long, brown braid smiles at us. The front of her hair is teased sky-high like we’re about to shoot a retro eighties rock video, and I fight the urge to raise my eyebrows at her appearance. “There you two are. I was looking forward to seeing you again, Iris.”
“Hi, Melody,” Iris says and then politely asks, “Is Mr. Stern ready to see us?”
Melody’s lips are covered in a shade of orange and they make an O shape as she leans back in her chair while peering into the next room through the open door. “Bill? You ready for Mr. White?”
“It’s Johnson, actually,” I correct her.
Melody stares up at me and winks. “Right. I forgot.” She returns to her leaning position and glances back into the room before returning her gaze to me. “Go on in.”
“Thank you.” I place my hand on the small of Iris’s back and usher her into the room where Mr. Stern sits at his desk, waiting for us.
We’re met with a pair of kind gray eyes beneath a set of bushy white eyebrows as unruly as the gray hair on his head. The suit he’s got on looks vintage, but I’m sure it’s the same style he’s been wearing for the better part of fifty years and he’s not trying to go retro. Like most people around here, Mr. Stern has some age on him, I’m guessing close to seventy years, and seems as nice as they come.
There’s no computer on his desk, but every inch of it is covered with stacks and stacks of files and loose paperwork. The man is definitely old-school.
He stands, giving Iris a friendly hug before giving my hand a nice firm handshake. “How are you, young man?”
“Fine, sir. Yourself?”
He eases back down in his seat and gestures for us to sit in the brown chairs in front of his desk. “Oh, can’t complain too much.” He sighs. “Let’s get on down to it, shall we?” Mr. Stern grabs a file out of one of the stacks to his left and lays it in front of him. “I’ve had a chance to read over the contract you brought in, and while I must say that I don’t have a lot of experience dealing with matters such as yours, I am well versed in reading legally binding documents.”
“Did you find anything in there that will help me?” I ask eagerly.
He frowns. “I didn’t find anything other than a debilitating injury or death clause that will release you from your contract, so I’m afraid unless you want to fight a huge company like Mopar Records, you’ll have to fulfill your contract—completing three full albums with them and the tours that have been scheduled.”
My shoulders slump. This was exactly what I feared. “That’s not good news.”
“However, I did find a loophole that may satisfy your biggest complaint with the record label.”
My hope rises again. “What is it?”
“I remembered how you said you were unhappy with your contract because you weren’t able to have creative control over your brand and the song choices . . . well, there’s a part in the contract that says you are able to exercise artistic rights to help enhance your brand, meaning if you feel something portrays you in a light that you don’t want to be in, you can refuse.”
“Like song choices for the new album?” I grab Iris’s hand and squeeze excitedly.
He nods slowly. “Yes, but you’ll still be required to do shows, and ultimately you’ll still have to perform the songs that you hate right now until you produce more new material. But remember, just because you refuse to go along with their ideas, it doesn’t mean that they have to accept your new vision for your brand either.”
“That’s fantastic news!”
Mr. Stern holds up his hand to cut off my excitement. “You’re not out of the woods yet. You said you’ve not shown for how many shows now?”
I frown as I try to recall how many concerts I’ve missed since being here two months. “Counting the one I walked out on . . . seven, I think.”
He grimaces. “They can still sue you over that, and I’m afraid that suit can go into the millions, based on what I imagine a tour like yours to be worth.”
“Shit,” I mutter. “So it’s possible that they can take back everything I’ve earned up until this point.”
“And then some,” he adds.
“So, I still can’t go back—not now. I can’t afford it.”
“Son,” Mr. Stern says, “if you don’t go back, you could make things worse for yourself. We can protest that you had a mental breakdown over the loss of your foster mother and you snapped. Any judge may take that into consideration and . . .”
“No,” I say. “I won’t use my foster mother for an excuse for something I did. I refuse to do that.”
He sighs. “Well, I’m afraid it could be rough on you once they do catch up to you.”
I stand, hearing enough, and stick out my hand. “Thank you for the advice. I appreciate it, but I’ll take that contract back now.”
He hands it to me and Iris stands by my side. “Be careful and don’t do anything rash. If you need me again, you know where to find me.”
I nod curtly before stepping out of his office and paying Melody for the consultation, blocking her incessant chatter out with the thoughts of me and Iris preparing to leave if need be.
Both Iris and I are quiet on the ride back to Willow Acres. I appreciate the time to allow my mind to ponder the best next move.
I have a million different reasons to hop on my bike and ride away into oblivion and only one reason to stay put. That one reason outranks everything else and is sitting right beside me, holding my hand as I drive her home. I can’t bear the thought of being without her. Thinking about it now makes my stomach turn, and I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.
When I park the car outside of her trailer, she sighs longingly as she looks around.
She’s not saying it, but I can sense the looming fear in her about the impending day when I’ll have to abruptly leave. I just pray she sticks with what she promised me and is ready to leave too when that time comes.
I’m tempted to ask her right now if she’s having second thoughts but think better of it, because if she is, I don’t want to know. It will break my heart and I’m not ready to let her go just yet.
She opens her door and pauses to look over at me. “You spending the night?”
I nod. “If you want me to.”
She peers up at me with her green eyes through thick lashes. “I’ll always want you.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand with her smaller one. “Always.”
Later that night, after we’ve made love to the point that we’re both near exhaustion, I grab the book I brought back from my old bedroom and flip it open to my favorite play by Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet. I’ve been reading Iris to sleep nearly every night this week, and she seems to really enjoy it.
I love the gentle little sighs she makes when I read her a particularly romantic line.
I lick my lips and continue to read, “‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that thou her maid art far more fair than she.’”
By act 4 Iris is sound asleep and I find myself absently stroking her soft hair as I continue to read on to Hamlet. About an hour into her sleep, she grows restless, tossing her head side to side and whimpering a bit.
I’m tempted to wake her in order to save her from the nightmare she’s obviously having but freeze instantly when she whispers my name.
“Don’t go, Ace. Don’t leave me . . . I love you.” Her words are just a little louder than a faint whisper, but they’re as clear as day.
My heart swells at her unknowing admission to me, and more than anything I want to squeeze her against me and tell her just how much I love her in return, but I dare not wake my sleeping angel. Knowing that she loves me has given me the courage to finally tell her how deep my feelings run for her.
Tomorrow will be the start of our forever.