“Got it. Well, if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”
“Thanks.” She smiles at me but she’s still behaving kind of strangely.
I lean in for a kiss and she lets me steal one, but then she pulls back. “You know, I was thinking.”
I can already feel the kiss of death coming on our arrangement. “Highly overrated, thinking. I don’t recommend it.”
“I’m serious. We said we’d keep this discreet, so at the party, maybe let’s just each do our thing. You mingle with your fans and I’ll focus on keeping everything running smoothly. Both of my bosses will be there so it might be in our best interest to just—”
“Pretend we don’t know each other?” I don’t mean to sound pissed, but when I said discreet I didn’t exactly mean hiding, either.
“No. I don’t mean that. That would be weird. Just no PDA at work functions. You tell anyone who asks that you’re single and focusing on your career and I’ll do the same. Like you did on the Ricky Ray show.”
“Heard that, did you?”
She nods, but there’s no judgment.
“You ashamed of me, Breeland?”
She rolls her eyes, but I’m only half-kidding.
“Don’t be silly, Dallas. Of course not. You know how proud I am of you. I just don’t want to get in your way at your party and I don’t want my bosses to suspect something inappropriate is going on and start asking questions. Technically they could fire me for this.”
“But then after the party we can get inappropriate, right? Say midnightish? My hotel room?”
“You’re incorrigible, Dallas Lark.”
“You’re fickle, Robyn Breeland.”
“Hey, that’s not true,” she says, placing a hand on her hip and jutting it out so I can’t walk past her. “Take that back, jerk.”
“Come on, woman. Last night you practically devoured me whole. Today you’re all distance and no PDA and making rules about what’s appropriate and what’s not.”
“I’m not trying to be coy or fickle or whatever. I’m doing you a favor.”
I nod. “Uh-huh. Well, for the record, I prefer the kind of favors you did me last night versus this rules-and-boundaries brand of favors.”
She shoves at my chest.
“I meant the massage. Why? What favor did you think I was referring to?”
“Check yourself before you wreck yourself, Lark,” she teases. Thankfully she lets me kiss her smart mouth once more before she heads out the door. “For real, though,” she begins again once I’ve walked her to her car, a cute sporty black Jetta I didn’t even know she owned. Fits her. Sleek, sophisticated, and petite enough to be called adorable. “I don’t want to cramp your style, Superstar.”
She’s mocking Mandy but I don’t blame her. I mock Mandy in my head all the time.
“You never cramp my style, Red,” I say, using Jase’s nickname for her just because he bugs me.
“Okay then, bad choice of words. I don’t want to hold you back or weigh you down. Lots of people are going to want a piece of you at this party, Dallas, and some of them it will benefit you to get to know. So I’m going to hang back behind the scenes where I belong and let you do your thing.”
“Whatever you say, babe.” I reach for her hand and pull her toward my truck. “I’ll drive you to the airport so you don’t have to pay for long-term parking.”
“You sure?”
“Yep. Hop in.”
When we get to the airport I can only walk her to the security gate. We stop and she gives me a quick hug. “See you in a week. Have a great show tonight. Make sure my mom doesn’t run off with Jase Wade.”
“Will do,” I promise. “And hey, about what you said, about holding me back or weighing me down?”
Her brow crinkles. “Yeah?”
“That’s a load of malarkey and you know it, Breeland. If anything, you keep me grounded so all of this craziness doesn’t go to my head.”
She smiles. “Well, someone has to.”
28 | Dallas
SOUND CHECK AT THE GEXA ENERGY PAVILION DOESN’T TAKE TOO long and I’m glad. Dixie texted earlier that she’d come early and she’s bringing Robyn’s mom. I’ve always loved Belinda Breeland like she was my own mother and I wasn’t kidding when I said I was wounded at the thought of her liking Jase Wade more than me. I never claimed to be mature. Blame the testosterone.
I brought Belinda a giant box of her favorite Godiva chocolates. Maybe she’s still a little mad at me for not working things out with Robyn back in the day, but I am determined to win her over.
After I’ve put my guitar aside and cleared the stage so Wade could warm up, I head back to my bus in hopes of catching a quick nap before the show. Feels like I haven’t slept in a month.
Halfway there I see my sister and Belinda making their way backstage and I stop dead in my tracks.
“Stop gaping at me like I’m about to faint dead away, Dallas Lark,” Belinda says to greet me. “I’m fine. I’ve been in remission for months now. I just wear the scarves still because I like them and I’m not used to the short hair.”
She’s about twenty pounds thinner than I remember and even with the scarf I can tell that her once-long red locks are now cropped in a short pixie cut. She didn’t come to Papa’s funeral. Robyn mentioned that she was ill and couldn’t make it. I thought she meant like a cold or something.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know . . .”
“That I was in remission? Surely Robyn told you.” She shakes her head. “That girl acts like I’m going to relapse any second, though. You should see the stuff she makes me eat.” Belinda laughs lightly, probably hoping to break the tension I’ve suddenly created with my inability to conceal my shock. “When the doctors gave us the lists of restricted and recommended foods, you would’ve thought they were handing her a dietary Bible.”
Apparently I could fill a fucking book with the things Robyn hasn’t told me. The pieces of the puzzle that is Robyn Breeland are beginning to take shape in my head. The food. The obsession with healthy eating and all her overzealous ordering habits.
“Oh my God,” Belinda practically squeals, sounding more like a teenage girl than a grown woman. “There he is. Can we get closer to the stage?”
Dixie and I both follow her line of sight to where Wade is now warming up.
Grrr.
For this woman, though, the one who made me homemade chicken noodle soup when I had the flu, I’ll endure it.
“Come on,” I say, offering her my arm. “I can do better than closer to the stage.”
Once I’ve escorted them both past security and up the stairs to the restricted backstage area, I tug my sister’s elbow and pull her aside.
“Tell me what the hell is going on.” I nod toward Belinda.
Dixie shrugs. “She’s a huge fan of his—”
“I’m not talking about that.” My jaw clenches and I have to swallow several times to get my emotions in check. “Remission. When did she have cancer? Did you know? Did Robyn tell you?”
Dixie and I have had our communication issues lately. She keeps the details of her relationship with Gavin off my radar and I haven’t exactly filled her in on what Robyn and I are up to. But if she tells me right now that she’s known all this time that Robyn’s mom had cancer and she didn’t tell me, I don’t know how I’m going to keep from losing my shit.
“She didn’t tell me, either,” Dixie informs me, choosing to answer my last question first. “Belinda seems to think we knew. I practically yelled at her on the way here. Obviously if we’d known we would’ve been there, would’ve visited her in the hospital.”
I watch the woman with stars in her eyes staring at Wade onstage. She turns to me and gives me two thumbs up and she looks so much like her daughter I’m struck with a pang of longing. I want Robyn here. Mostly so I can demand to know why she didn’t tell me her mom had cancer, but also because I want to hold her. To kiss her and tell her I’m sorry I wasn’t there for her, for both of them.
After Robyn’s dad died I made sure to cut their grass, change the oil in their cars, and take out the garbage as often as I could. I wanted to make sure they didn’t have to feel his loss in those ways as well. Belinda eventually “fired” me and told me I wasn’t the hired help before she hired actual help to take over the landscaping duties. She told me the McKinley boys at the garage could change her oil just fine.