“You can wear my fist print on your face every day of this tour for all I fucking care. But we’re going downstairs and you’re going to hear me out. Like it or not.”
I get more than a few strange looks when we exit the elevator. I’m bruised, battered and bloody, but I don’t care.
“Bourbon neat,” I say to a pretty curly-haired bartender who smiles at me when we reach the bar. I’d smile back but I’ve lost most of the feeling in my face.
“You got it. Maybe I’ll make it a double for that shiner you got there. On the house.”
I nod and Wade chuckles from beside me. Bastard.
“Water for me, darlin’.”
“Pussy,” I mutter under my breath.
He arches a brow, turning on the stool to face me.
“Let’s get a few things straight, kid. You don’t know much about me, and what I know about you couldn’t fill a shot glass. So I’m going to lay some knowledge on you.”
I just stare hard. I don’t want to know anything about him except why he’s leading Robyn on and fucking Mandy.
The blonde delivers our drinks and he clutches his glass for dear life. “It takes everything I have not to sit here and get shitfaced night after night. I’ve been where you are and I’ve fallen down rabbit holes a hell of a lot darker than anyplace you’ve ever been. I’ve been in rehab more times than you’ve had your dick sucked. I have a little girl who deserves better, so damn it, I try to be better. But some days . . .”
He shakes his head and stares into his glass of water.
“You want a gold star? One of those sobriety badges they hand out?”
So it’s a low blow, but the bourbon hasn’t burned off my residual anger and hurt on Robyn’s behalf.
“Naw. What I want is to know where you got that chip on your shoulder from and why it led you to Mandy’s room tonight. More importantly, I want to know why you’re decking me for fucking Lantram when I’m damn near certain she’s not the one who’s had your attention during this tour.”
“You know why.”
He smirks at me. “That supposed to be a joke?”
I stand up, but his hand lands heavy on my shoulder, shoving me back down.
“Relax. Let’s take it one thing at a time. You have something going with your manager? ’Cause I gotta tell you, you’re not the only—”
“No.” I take a deep breath. “I mean, she’s said shit. I just hadn’t actually considered it until tonight.”
“Because . . .”
“Because of you. Because Robyn ended it because of ‘someone else.’ ” I narrow my eyes at him, knowing we’re going to come to blows again, but unable to care.
“Whoa there, Hoss.” He tosses his hands up. “Ain’t me she’s cutting you loose for if that’s what you mean.”
I want to believe him, so help me I do. But I saw the tender look of affection on her face when they were talking in Nashville. So maybe he doesn’t feel the same way, but in Robyn’s eyes he obviously comes first.
“Maybe you don’t give a shit about her, but she—”
“She confronted me. Went pretty ballistic actually, thinking I’d requested her for this tour because I wanted to get in her panties.” He levels me with his hand again when I rile up at his mentioning her panties. “I told her the same thing I’m about to tell you.”
My fists are clenched waiting for his explanation.
“Take a drink, kid. Take a few. Then I’ll explain.”
I down my shot and slide it aside. “There. Let’s hear it.”
“Robyn Breeland is amazing. She’s one of those women, the good ones. The genuine article. The kind you fall in love with. The kind you love more every day, appreciating each line, each wrinkle, and each gray hair because it only makes her more beautiful. She’s a biscuits and gravy on Saturday morning girl.”
Shows what he knows. Robyn won’t touch gravy. But for the rest of it, he’s pretty much dead on.
“So then why—”
“But,” he says harshly, cutting me off. “I requested her on this tour for entirely different reasons.” He takes a long drink of his water while side-eyeing a lanky brunette with silicone breasts passing by. “Honorable ones, if you can believe it.”
“I’m not sure I can,” I tell him honestly.
“Well, try.” He shrugs. “She’s young and she made a presentation that impressed me. She mentioned integrating social media into the tour promo and I’m not stupid. I know the guy with the Instagram and the Tweeter and all that shit is the one getting the most attention.”
I’m pretty sure it’s Twitter, but I’m with him there. Robyn handled that shit for the band when we first started out, then Dixie took over. I hate doing it now. I suck at it, too, which Mandy constantly reminds me. If it weren’t for her nagging, I’d skip it altogether.
“So then nothing happened with you and Robyn? Ever?”
He finishes his water and shakes his head. “Other than her raking my ass over the coals because she thought I’d hired her for her body? Nope. And like I told her, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed. But that wasn’t my intention and it never made it there.” There’s a slight twinge of disappointment in his voice that makes me want to take another shot at him. “Funny thing,” he says, gesturing to the bartender to refill my shot glass. “Once you showed up, she hardly noticed me anymore. And no offense, kid, but I’m a hell of a lot better looking than you.”
I almost laugh. Almost.
“Yeah, well, she obviously got over it. Tonight she said we couldn’t do this anymore and that there was someone else.”
“Maybe she was lying.”
I don’t even pause to consider that. “Robyn doesn’t lie. She’s the most honest person I know.”
“Did you ask who it was?”
“I kind of bailed before we made it that far. Or before I broke every stick of furniture in her apartment in a blind rage.”
Wade rubs his jaw, then stares at me so hard I almost ask if he’s trying to get my number. But then he leans back and winks at the brunette watching him from across the room. “Well, maybe she wasn’t lying then. Maybe you just didn’t give her a chance to tell you the entire truth.”
“I don’t know if it even matters. What matters is that she ended it.”
Right? Fuck. Now I’m confused.
“Look.” Wade clears his throat and turns to nod at the brunette. “I’ve got another situation to handle, so I’m going to make this quick. Listen close.”
I take my second shot of bourbon and nod.
“When I was seventeen, I was nobody. A farmer’s kid being groomed to take over a farm that had been in my family for decades. I went to a bonfire after graduation, thinking I’d get drunk and blow off some steam. Drink to the privileged motherfuckers going off to college while I shoveled cow shit.”
Well, this is an unexpected trip down memory lane. I signal for another shot, twirling my finger so the bartender will keep them coming. Once Wade leaves with his barfly, I’ll be drinking alone and it will be twice as pathetic.
“But you didn’t, obviously.”
“No, I did. But at that bonfire, I played a few songs on my guitar just for the hell of it. Then I went to put it back in my truck and caught some rich preppy asshole assaulting the prom queen.”
Jesus.
“So I bashed the asshole over the head with my guitar and knocked his sorry ass out cold.”
“Nice.” I nod in appreciation. Sounded about like what I would’ve done.
“Yeah, well. Turns out Aubrey Evers—she was the prom queen—had left the party because she’d heard a song I’d sung and it had made her feel something. Something that made her want to get out of our small town and see the world. My song, some words I strung together out of nowhere, you know? Fuck, that messed me up good, knowing I’d affected her like that. I didn’t think she’d even known I’d existed in high school.”
“I’m guessing her boyfriend didn’t appreciate the profound effect your music had on her?”
“Not so much.” Jase’s eyes drift and I see the longing in his face. I recognize it because I feel it every time I see Robyn’s face. “He probably didn’t appreciate me marrying her six months later or getting her pregnant the following year, either. But to hell with him. I should’ve killed that fucker. I loved that damn guitar and it was destroyed.”