They wrote 'Postcard from Mexico' very early in their career. They'd been out on the West Coast, opening for openers on a Merle Haggard tour and ridiculously excited to be there. When they finished the night in San Diego, they had three days before the next show in LA. Deacon was the one who suggested they rent a car and drive across the border to Mexico. Rayna hesitated only a moment before agreeing. They put every bit of money they had on the table and found they had enough to rent the cheapest car on the lot and pay for a night in a tiny beachside motel.
Deacon was the one who suggested writing it as a call-and-response song, but the truth was, it practically wrote itself that way anyway. Their songwriting method had always been one where they bounced things off each other, throwing out lines, revising them on the fly. This song, though, seemed to beg for that kind of performance on stage. They'd written it after they had acted out their favorite game, the one where they pretended not to know each other. It was always some variation on him picking her up at a bar or her coming on to him in a hotel lobby.
There was a beachside bar in walking distance from the motel. It was the middle of summer and sultry hot, even with the ocean breeze coming through. The sun was almost below the horizon when Rayna walked into the bar, wearing a simple white sundress and pearls. She wore her strappy stilettos that she normally only wore on stage and so she sat at the bar, crossing her legs, and ordered a tequila and lime. She peered out over the ocean, squinting her eyes against the last of the sunlight, letting her top leg swing back and forth just a little.
She could feel him behind her, the heat of him, even though he wasn't touching her. She wanted to turn around, but she made herself sit there, languidly swinging her leg and toying with her drink. It was a hot, humid night and she could feel a thin sheen of perspiration on her bare arms and legs. It made it all the more erotic, somehow. He sat down beside her and ordered a cheap whiskey. She turned slightly toward him, not looking at him. "Isn't that heavy for a hot night like this one?" she asked, her voice low.
"Nah," he responded, also speaking low and deep. He took a long swallow, then put the glass down. "You left me hanging."
She shrugged. "Sorry. Couldn't risk it." She lifted her hand up and ran her fingers over her necklace.
"I see you still got 'em. Still working for ya?"
She smiled into her glass. "What can I say?" She uncrossed and recrossed her legs. "I've been waiting."
He chuckled, low in his throat. "You're a bad girl."
"I had to go."
"I found you though."
She turned slightly towards him, looking at him through her eyelashes. "That you did. But I did leave you a card."
"I know you need me."
She looked at him then and smiled. "Is that so?" She slid off the barstool and walked out of the bar. She could hear his footsteps behind her and she turned into the ladies restroom. Her knees felt like rubber and she felt a shiver of anticipation course through her.
She was standing at the sink, looking in the mirror, when he entered the restroom. He walked up behind her and stood right up against her. "I took the fall for you," he whispered in her ear, a touch of menace in his voice. "Your turn to pay."
She looked into his eyes in the mirror and shrugged. "Love comes, love goes." She knew what was coming and, although she was so turned on she could hardly stand it, she prayed no one came in while they were there. He didn't seem to care, as he slid one arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. And then he took his time with her and she forgot about everything except how good he made her feel.
'Postcard from Mexico' practically wrote itself. Deacon infused it with a more rock vibe than country, but it worked for them. They had sat on the bed in the little beachside motel that had seen better days, the mattress sagging and the sheets almost as rough as sandpaper. They hardly slept, but they didn't care. Like so many of their songs, it was magic. Deacon always teased Rayna that it brought out her bad girl side and she told him it made him mysterious and a little menacing, but it was a side of them that the public rarely saw.
The song was never a number one, but it was one of those album cuts that was requested regularly at a Rayna Jaymes concert. As long as she and Deacon were together as a couple, it was a song they loved playing. It almost always was a prelude to hot, dirty sex and, for that reason, it was a song they looked forward to. But that song, along with so many others, was off the table after Deacon came back to the band. After the fifth time in rehab. After Rayna had married Teddy Conrad and had Maddie. Fans still asked for it, but not nearly as often anymore. Whenever she was asked about it, Rayna would make a face and wave her hands and say she was moving on to newer material. Eventually people stopped asking.
~Deacon~
Things had been comfortable with Stacy. She still got jittery when she was around Rayna, even though he'd told her it was all in the past. If he were honest with himself, it was awkward, although he tried not to let it be. He really liked Stacy, but he sensed her feelings for him were stronger than his for her. He hadn't had a real girlfriend since Rayna, and he knew it wouldn't be the same, but as comfortable as he felt, it didn't feel like forever. Not that he was ready to call it a day, but he was just feeling an itch.
They were on the final stretch of the Red Lips/White Lies tour and they were in Nashville. They'd have a short break and then finish off the last three weeks. He'd already told Juliette this was it for him. He told Stacy he was ready for a more normal life, but the truth was that it had been stressful being on the tour with Rayna. It was hard to move on when he was faced with her every day. They seemed to have gotten back to a good place, but it was time.
He had hoped, in the aftermath of Rayna separating from Teddy, that they would be free to try again, but it was clear that was not the case. She'd used her old refrain – I wanna do right by you – which he knew was code for 'I can't be with you'. So he was trying with Stacy, trying to forge a different life and move on from waiting.
He and Stacy stood on the side of the stage during Rayna's show. She was the closer that night. Liam was back with her and that got under his skin a lot more than he wanted to admit. She was about midway through her set when she introduced Liam to the crowd. Then someone in the audience hollered out 'Postcard from Mexico' and his chest clenched. He had practically worn out that record after he'd come back from that last stay in rehab. He had finally stopped listening to that song, finally put away the memories of all it represented, trying to move on.
He glanced out at the crowd. He thought Rayna seemed a little taken off guard by it and she made the excuse that Liam wouldn't know it. Except he did. He watched for a minute but he couldn't stand watching her do that song with someone else. Seeing her bumping and grinding with Liam made him…jealous. He felt white hot jealousy in that moment. It was uncomfortable and he felt his skin crawling. He finally couldn't take it anymore and he excused himself and walked away, leaving Stacy behind.
He paced the backstage area. He could hear the sound of her, but thankfully he couldn't hear the words anymore. Of course, he knew most of her songs, so he would recognize the melody, but he just wasn't sure he could do this anymore. He kept pacing, running his hand over his head, trying to keep from hitting the wall. He thought again that maybe he should leave Nashville. He just wasn't ever going to be able to get her out of his system if he had to face her every day or hear about her or know what she was doing.
He thought about how long he'd waited for her, hoping for something, wishing for something to change. He'd done everything he thought she'd wanted him to do. He'd worked his program, he'd gone to meetings, he'd fought through all the tough times. He'd watched her with Teddy, watched her with her girls, stood by her side through her pregnancy with Daphne, and all of those things had killed him a little more every day. He'd focused on staying sober, because he was sure she couldn't really be happy with Teddy, not after what they'd had.
He had died a little inside, the day she'd told him she was pregnant. But that had been the thing, ironically, that had shifted the dynamic for them. She had suddenly opened up more, let him back in, if not all the way, at least enough so that they became friends. He was her confidant in all areas, except for her marriage. They knew each other so well and he had known she needed him in ways she'd never need Teddy.
And so he kept waiting. But she'd closed the door and now he didn't know quite what to do.
When Stacy found him, he had somewhat calmed down, but then she pressed for answers from him. She asked him if he'd really come back to see Rayna the week before. And then she asked if he still had feelings for Rayna and he found himself telling her the truth. But he really hadn't meant to hurt her, just to be honest, letting her know he was trying to work past that. But she was hurt and he knew he'd said the wrong thing, but he felt like she needed to understand where his head was at. It wasn't the right thing to say, though, and of course she walked out. He followed her and she pushed him away and then Rayna appeared, which was the worst possible thing that could have happened right then.
~Rayna~
Based on her first meeting with Liam McGuinness, she would never have guessed they would be kissing in a sound studio, but Rayna was feeling like she needed to test her boundaries. She'd never really been on her own and, although it was a little scary, it was also fun and exciting. She'd been with Deacon from the time she was sixteen until they'd broken up for the last time and then had gone straight into the relationship with Teddy. Now that her marriage to Teddy was over, it was time to explore. And Liam was cute and hot and sexy and younger. Just the answer to what she needed, she thought.
She'd never felt quite like this before. She wasn't sure what she wanted or where she wanted it to go or even if she cared. It made her want to giggle. A lot. But it also made her nervous. Kind of excited nervous, but nervous nonetheless. When he told her he'd made reservations for them to go to St. Lucia, she knew she really needed to think about the next step in her journey. She really liked Liam, but going on a trip together was…a really big step. There would be sex. And she wasn't sure if she was really ready for that.
She needed to move on though. She'd decided, in the aftermath of what had almost happened in Chicago, and the divorce from Teddy, that instead of going back into old patterns and old habits, she needed to go in a different direction. So that had meant setting Deacon free. Again. And even though it still smarted whenever she saw him with his new girlfriend, she knew it was just what she needed to keep her on the path away from him.
Sometimes she thought about that kiss in the elevator in Chicago. Things had been so tense between her and Deacon then and she considered how close she'd come to giving in to her feelings. If Teddy hadn't shown up unexpectedly, she wasn't sure what might have happened. Actually, if she were honest with herself, she knew exactly what would have happened and she thought that it wouldn't have been a good idea. It was better to find love with someone other than Deacon Claybourne. Not that she thought this thing with Liam was love, but she didn't want the pain that came with loving Deacon. She had made a hard decision about that back when she'd married Teddy and she didn't want to repeat old patterns.
But she did love him. She knew that. She would probably always love him, until the day she died. She had always loved him. He was in her blood and in her soul. But it didn't mean it was good for her. And that was what she had decided all those years ago – that he wasn't good for her and that she wasn't good for him. What they'd had was explosive and raw and painful and wonderful and all-encompassing and obsessive all at once. Being with him had been like having her blood on fire, like fireworks all the time. It was beautiful and it was tragic at the same time.
Liam was what she needed right now. Uncomplicated and simple, no strings, no mess. She smiled to herself, thinking that this St. Lucia thing was exactly what she wanted to do. Sun and sand and all the hotness that was Liam McGuinness.
Deacon brought Stacy to the concert. Of course he did. She hated that it got under her skin. Still got under her skin. But it helped confirm in her mind that she needed to go to St. Lucia. She needed to break her patterns and old habits and try something new. She felt the tiniest twinge of guilt that she was somehow using Liam, but she shook it off. The only way to bury that old love was to find new love. And that was what she was going to do. Deacon seemed happy and so she needed to be happy too.
She was a little surprised when Liam started the guitar riff for 'Postcard from Mexico'. She hadn't done that song since, well, since she and Deacon had been together. She had to put on a good face for the crowd, but inside she felt a little queasy. The song had such meaning for her and for Deacon. The circumstances of writing it, the mood it evoked. When she and Deacon performed it onstage, she would stand so close to him she could wrap her arms around him. There was a heat to the song that would inevitably sweep through both of them and she felt it even now.
When the song was over, she felt wrung out. But they moved on to the next and eventually she felt her nerves settle down and the heat dissipated and she felt her breathing slow down. She pushed it aside, and the feelings it had conjured up, and by the end of the show, she felt more settled. She was going to go home and pack for the trip and she focused her mind on that.
But then she walked up on what was clearly a falling out between Deacon and Stacy. She watched Stacy bolt from the arena and she asked Deacon if he was okay. At first he said he was and then he said he wasn't. He seemed like he needed to talk so she pulled him aside. She was concerned. "What's the matter?" she asked.
He looked at her, a sad yearning in his eyes. "You."
~Deacon~
He'd felt torn apart as he watched Rayna leave with Liam. We're going to St. Lucia together. It had been like a knife to his heart. He'd seen their banter and, certainly, there had been that sexiness onstage during 'Postcard from Mexico', but he hadn't seen this coming. Or maybe he had and he just hadn't paid attention. He'd been trying so hard with Stacy and trying to stay so focused on that, that he guessed he'd missed it.
He watched the two of them leave and then he'd gone and gotten his things and left the arena. He felt a heaviness in his chest as he drove home. The whole night had just imploded. He'd quit Juliette's band, he'd pushed Stacy away, and now he'd laid himself open to Rayna and been rebuffed again. When he got home he was glad Scarlett wasn't there. He needed the solitude.
He thought about calling Stacy, even picked up the phone a couple times. He kept hearing Rayna's voice in his head. You need to call Stacy and make it right. But then he'd look at the screen and he just couldn't do it. He thought he needed to give her space and then…then they'd see where things were. He wouldn't blame her though if she couldn't come back, knowing he wasn't all in.
He fixed something to eat – warmed up the spaghetti-o's he'd bought and that Stacy had teased him about. He'd choked down a few bites before tossing them in the trash. He kept seeing Stacy's playfulness and thought about how he hadn't really opened himself up fully to her, how he'd kept a piece of himself hidden. He thought about what Scarlett had said when she met her. Okay, can you keep her? Because you're happy and she's lovely. He sighed. It had felt good, but it hadn't felt quite right. He wondered if he could ever really move on from Rayna.
He paced through the house. He blamed Liam. If he hadn't started that damn song…well, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't have pushed Stacy away, he wouldn't have embarrassed himself in front of Rayna, he wouldn't be here in his house, at almost midnight, feeling at loose ends. I tried forever to fight this thing between you and me and just when I think I get there…. "Damn it!" he said out loud, slamming his hand on the kitchen counter. He stood there, running his hand over his mouth. He knew he was going to torture himself thinking about Rayna with Liam and he felt tears in his eyes. He breathed in and out, willing himself to not go there.
He finally ended up on the couch, guitar in hand, trying – and failing – to work on some music. A knock came at his door. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was well past midnight. He frowned, wondering who it could be. Stacy, maybe? He thought about ignoring it, because he didn't really want to argue any more or talk it out or whatever it was she'd want to do, but he got up anyway and opened the door.
Rayna Jaymes was the last person he'd expected to see standing on his porch.
~Rayna~
When she was alone in her dressing room, after the show, that mixed up feeling came back. Now that the high of the performance had dissipated, Liam getting her to do 'Postcard from Mexico' came back to the forefront of her mind. As she changed into regular clothes, she got that queasy feeling again and then that caused her to think back to when she and Deacon had written that song. She sighed.
Back in the days when they performed it onstage, it had never failed to turn her on. Massively. She knew he'd felt the same then. It almost always resulted in him pushing her into whatever space they had as a dressing room, not even stopping to lock the door, and making love to her right there. It was always greedy and rough and raw, kind of like the song. And she loved it.
She heard herself moan and realized she was feeling a little turned on just thinking about it. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She was leaving with Liam in the morning for St. Lucia. She needed to go home and pack. She forced herself to mentally go through her closet and think about what she should take. It was just a long weekend, so she wouldn't need much. She blushed a little, thinking that she might not need anything at all.
She pulled on her coat and scarf and picked up her purse. She walked out into the main hallway and saw Deacon and Stacy, obviously having some sort of fight. It was clear that Stacy was not happy to see her witness that. She waved in an awkward kind of way, hoping to get around it, but then Stacy took off. The conversation with Deacon felt awkward and she was grateful for Liam's appearance.
But once they got outside the arena, she felt conflicted. Liam walked her to her limo and leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head away. As she slid into the back seat, she smiled and lifted her hand in a wave. "See you tomorrow," she said, noting that he looked confused. But he shut the door and the car moved through the parking lot and out to the street.
She sat back and closed her eyes. She couldn't erase Deacon's sad face from her mind. She kept seeing that haunted look in his eyes, the deep sadness there as he looked at her. I tried forever to fight this thing between you and me and just when I think I get there…. She felt the pressure of tears behind her eyes. She had been fighting this very same thing ever since they sang 'No One Will Ever Love You' at the Bluebird, back when they had ripped open their hearts on stage. She had tried desperately to put the genie back in the bottle, almost giving in that night in Chicago, but reestablishing the boundary in the aftermath. She didn't want to confuse him or confuse herself, didn't want to give false hope.
But I love him. That's always been true.
She opened her eyes, feeling the tears slide down her cheeks. She watched the limo glide down Harding Pike and make the turn towards her house. When the limo stopped in front of her front door, the driver opened the door for her. She gave him her best performance smile and walked into the dark house. She took off her coat and scarf and laid them, along with her purse, on the kitchen island. She walked back to the bedroom and into her closet, pulling out a small overnight case.
She stood in the closet but made no move to start packing. Why am I doing this? He's been sober for thirteen years. He's proved he can do this. If not now, when? She stood a moment longer, then walked out, turning off the light. When she got to the kitchen, she put her coat and scarf back on and picked up her purse and keys. She walked out the back door, locking it behind her. Then she got into her car and drove.
She parked in front of his house. She could see that the light was still on. She hoped Stacy wasn't there. She pulled out her phone and scrolled down to Liam's name. Sorry. I can't do this. She hovered over the send button and then pressed it. She put her phone back in her purse and got out of the car. Her stomach was turning somersaults as she walked up the walkway and then up the steps to the front porch. She leaned in and knocked, then stepped back.
When the door opened, she looked up into the face of the only man she had ever loved. "Hey."