Two Weeks Later….
Rayna sat at her desk going over end of the month reports, completely engrossed in her laptop. The rest of the building was pretty quiet, everyone else gone home for the day. Deacon sat in a chair, with his feet up on the desk and a guitar in his hands, alternating between scribbling on a notepad and trying to get the chords right on a new song.
This was a regular thing lately, them finding themselves in her office at the end of the day like this when the girls were gone. She loved so many things about it.
But mostly she just loved the man sitting across from her, making her heart smile with his music.
"That sounds amazing, Babe."
"It's gettin' there."
Without even looking up from her computer, she said. "I don't know why you won't just make your next record with Highway 65. Your contract with Belcourt is over. It seems silly to do it anywhere else."
They'd had this tiny non-argument several times already in the last couple months, and it always ended in the exact same place.
"Because," Deacon replied, rolling through another chord. "That would make you my boss."
"Deacon. We dated and played together for 11 years, and then I was your boss for 14 years when you were in my band, how it that any different?"
"You didn't share my pillows and steal my blankets then. I'm pretty sure that now it would be mixing business with pleasure. Don't think I wanna go there."
Rayna stopped scrolling on the screen, and looked over at him with raised eyebrows. "You didn't have any problems mixing business with pleasure last week. Right here on this desk, as I recall."
His eyes lit up with laughter, and so did hers.
He loved it when he got the sass out of her.
"Well when you put it that way…."
She stood up and came around to the other side of the desk, pushed his feet off and perched on the edge. "Listen," she said. "I know how you feel about all this. I just want you to consider it, alright? Everything I said."
"Everything" was that Rayna had been hinting for awhile now that she wanted the two of them to make a record together. On one hand, he knew it would be damn amazing. On the other, things were so good at home, away from the business, that he was feeling pretty adamant about keeping them separate. He'd watched her fall into that mess with Luke. Didn't want it happening to them.
"I'll think about it a little more," Deacon said, standing up, and leaning over to kiss her. "Don't hang around this fancy joint too long tonight, huh?"
"You make it hard to want to," she said with a smile, her arms automatically sliding around his neck. "Besides, the girls will be home in the morning. We better make use of the time alone tonight."
He leaned in to kiss her again but the phone in his front shirt pocket buzzed between them.
He tried to ignore it, but it wouldn't quit.
With a sigh, Rayna reluctantly pulled back from him and plucked the phone from his shirt pocket.
Deacon glanced down at it and slid the answer button to the right. "Hey, Joey, what's up?"
"Hey Deacon, that kid you were talking about? The one Rayna mentioned? He's playing at the Alehouse right now."
"Really."
"Yep. And he ain't half bad, but he started awhile ago. How fast can you get here?"
"Gimme twenty minutes. Thanks a lot, Joe."
Rayna looked at him expectantly as he ended the call.
"Rhett Harper is playing the Alehouse tonight," Deacon said. "I'm gonna go check it out."
She looked a little distressed. "Do you want me to go with you? You're okay with this?"
He could read her thoughts. "Ray, one look at Vince's kid isn't going to make me take a flying leap off the wagon."
"I know that," she said quietly. "But we haven't talked about Vince and what….happened in a long time. I worry about you, that's all."
"Well don't," he said, kissing her once more, "I'll see ya at home in a little while," and then he stepped around her to leave.
Troubled, she watched him go.
Deacon's come a long way, she told herself. This is what trust is. He'll be fine.
###############################
Deacon was too late for the set, but when he walked into the bar, Joey was waiting for him by the door and pointed out the lone figure sitting towards the end of bar, swilling beers by himself.
Well alright then, he thought to himself. Let's get this over with.
He slid onto the empty barstool next to the kid, and asked for a water from the bartender.
The kid took another swig of his beer with a smirk, not even bothering to look over at him. "You're in the wrong place if you're not drinkin."
"Quit doing that a long time ago. It's not worth the price." He studied the kid intently. Well, maybe he wasn't quite a kid, but couldn't have been more than early twenties at most. Something in that smirk….he could see what Rayna meant. It was pure Vince.
"Guess that depends on who you ask." Rhett glanced over, and seemed to at that moment realize who'd taken the seat next to him. The smirk faded right off his face. He signaled the bartender for another beer.
"Name's Deacon Claybourne, sound familiar?"
"Well hell, everyone's heard that name." Rhett muttered.
"Guess that depends on who you ask," Deacon echoed his earlier words.
"Listen," Rhett said, looking a little agitated. "You got something to ask me, why don't you ask me flat out."
"Alright," Deacon said calmly. "Are you Vince Montgomery's son?"
"Guess I probably am. Does it matter?"
"You guess? Either you are or you aren't, there's no halfway."
"Listen," Rhett said, raking his hands through his dark hair. "All she ever told me was that he was a musician and he never amounted to much, and that you and him were friends. Found a bunch of pictures of y'all. That's it. You looked a hell of a lot younger."
"That's cuz I was," Deacon said wryly. "You're mother? Where'd you grow up?"
"Moved around a lot. Ma settled us in Georgia when I was 10. She was from Mississippi."
"Sarah," Deacon realized. Vince's high school girlfriend.
"Yeah, that's her."
"I remember Sarah. She was real nice."
"She's dead. Cancer last year."
"Sorry to hear she's gone." He said in a gruff voice. "So ah…what do you know about your dad?"
"He ain't my dad. Never been, never will be. I don't need to know nothing. And it can stay that way. Never needed anything from him, don't need it now. Doin just fine on my own, aren't I?"
Deacon watched Rhett signal the bartender, this time for a shot of whiskey. It was disheartening to watch, and he was clearly hell-bent on getting loaded in a hurry. God, this was me once, he thought. Pissed at the world, trying to drink it all away. That was both of us.
He didn't know, Deacon realized. He didn't even know Vince was dead.
"Not gonna lie, Rhett said with a lazy smirk. "When I was little, I used to think maybe you mighta been my dad."
Deacon looked startled. "Well that ain't even possible. Why would you think that?"
"She told me he was a musician." Rhett said. "She used to play the same two records over and over again. I figure it had to be one or the other was my father. One of them was yours."
"What was the other one?"
"Johnny Cash."
Deacon laughed.
Rhett grinned too, and took another sip of his beer.
The smirk in that grin reminded him so much of Vince, it hurt a little. They'd been friends since they were eight years old, more like brothers, really.
"You know, your dad played backup in a lot of those songs on my first record. He was in Ray's band with me for five years."
"Yeah, I know."
"Maybe that's why your mama liked it."
"I don't know…I mean, is this all you came here for? Cuz pretty sure I've said enough. He can stay gone, for all I care. So don't be…you know…callin him up or nothing." Rhett said, a lazy sarcasm to his voice.
"Listen," Deacon sighed. "I gotta tell you…Vince died about twenty years ago. So you don't have to worry about him coming looking for you."
Rhett's shoulders stiffened. "Is that so."
"Yeah. Drunk driving accident."
"Figures," he muttered.
Deacon watched him pound back a few shots, and realized he could drink like Vince too. It was pretty damn alarming.
The guilt over the accident rose to the surface in the back of his mind again. Letting Vince drive. Him getting killed. That night was scarred in his soul forever. He understood why Rayna had been so worried about this whole situation. Vince's death had taken him to the darkest places of his life, and it had taken him years to climb back out of that rock-bottom hole. It had cost him years with her too.
But that had been twenty years ago, and he'd never let himself go anywhere near the edge of that cliff again. He had too much to lose. The guilt would always stay, but the darkness was gone.
"Rayna's been trying to have her people call you," Deacon said, trying another tactic. "How come you ain't called back? You could have a real shot at a contract."
"Guess I forgot."
"Yeah, I bet."
"Listen," Rhett said, turning to him, looked peeved. "I don't know what you're trying to do here, but don't do me any favors, and your wife don't gotta either. Just because my father was some old buddy of yours or something…You don't owe me nothing. Neither of you. "
Deacon didn't bother to correct him on the wife part. Close enough, she was. "Vince was my best friend, closest thing to a brother I ever had. I'm sure if he knew he had a son, he'd have done things differently, and he'd want me to look out for you. I'm real sorry you never got to know him, because-."
"He knew," Rhett cut him off.
"I don't think that's possible."
"My ma said he knew. And he left anyway."
He stared at Rhett. "I don't….that just doesn't seem possible."
"Think what you want," Rhett took another swig. "Maybe we're not talking about the same guy after all." He got real quiet, mouth set in a straight line.
"How old did you say you were?"
Rhett glanced over at him and sighed. "25."
It didn't make much sense, Deacon wanted to believe. But it did, the more he thought about it. How in a goddamn hurry Vince had been to get out of town….
Almost 26 years ago, he'd gotten in a shitty old truck with Vince and left their dusty small town and everything in it for good. Left it all behind. They'd been 19 years old, hell bent on getting out of Mississippi. Reckless. Wild. Somehow thinking they'd make it in Nashville on a few bucks, some guitars, and a pipe dream. There'd been lots of girls back then. That was before he'd met Rayna, though, and before Vince had met Carmen. Then again, Vince had never been too good at being faithful. But he did have a weak spot for Sarah.
"Come on, Deacon. Dammit. Let's just do it." Vince said, taking another swig of his beer. "What's holding you here?" He crumpled up the empty can in his hand and gave it a toss, and it sailed away in the darkness.
They were 50 feet up on the top of the old wooden water tower, on top of the world and nothing above them except the clear night sky and a million stars.
"Nothin, really." Deacon admitted. "Cept Bev, maybe. She doesn't have anyone else." His mother was in the town cemetery and his father, who had put her there, wouldn't be getting out of the state pen for a hell of a long time.
"Your crazy sister and her equally crazy boyfriend will be just fine. Come on." Vince stood up and leaned against the railing. He yelled as loud as he could, the sound echoing through the darkness. "Hey you fuckers! We're outta here, you got that? And we ain't lookin back."
"Jesus," Deacon said laughing. He reached out and yanked him back by the shirt. "Sit your drunk ass down before you take a header off this thing and kill yourself."
"I'm so damn tired of all of it. This town is killing me, Deac." He said as he slumped down on the platform again. "I gotta get out. If we don't get out now, we never will."
Deacon had his own reasons for wanting to get out. They might not be the same as Vince's but they were just as valid.
"What about Sarah? You just gonna leave Sarah?"
Vince's eyes darkened a little. "Aw, she'll be fine." He waved it off. "Her damn rich-ass parents never liked me anyway."
He thought that sounded like a load of bull, but didn't say so. "Well, alright," Deacon said, taking a deep breath. "When we leavin?"
"Right now." Vince was already backing down the tower.
"Wait-what? It's 1 am and we're half-loaded."
"You know," Vince called as his head disappeared below the ladder. "You're turning into a real pussy, man. Live a little."
"Last time we decided to live a little a locomotive almost took off the back end of your pickup."
"No way," Vince called. "We made it by three feet. Now let's hit that damn highway and get out of dodge, man!"
They went past Deacon's house to grab his guitar and throw his clothes in a bag, and went past Vince's to grab his stuff as well. Only problem was at Vince's place, the damn dog in the front yard started barking, and promptly woke up the whole house, sending his daddy out on the front porch with a shotgun to investigate the commotion, and his mother close behind.
"Dammit," Vince muttered, tossing his stuff in the back. "Hurry up, let's get out of here before we have a whole damn parade." He said to Deacon through the open window, pulling open the passenger door. "I don't need all my sisters out here cryin."
"What in the hell are you doing?" His father demanded.
"We're headed for Nashville, pa. I'll call ya in a couple weeks."
"Don't be stupid, boy. Get your butt back in here. You gonna break your mama's heart by having her lose another son? Deacon, I thought you had more brains in that head of yours, too."
Deacon, in the driver's seat, closed his eyes and swore silently. Of course he'd bring Tommy into it. It was Vince's one weakness, and his father damn well knew it. He'd been twelve when Tommy died, not much more than a kid himself trying to shoulder a grown up's responsibilities while his parents tried to make a living.
Vince hopped in the driver's seat. "Floor it," he said grimly. "Let's get the hell out of here."
They drove in silence for an hour, and Deacon couldn't help but think of how different it had been going past his own house. There was no one. No one gave a shit whether or not he drove this truck all the way to California, or off the bridge on the other side of town. He really and truly had nothing to stay for.
"It's just cuz they care, you know."
"Hell with that," Vince cut him off. "I ain't gonna stay in this dusty-ass town working my whole life in the damn tire factory and have nothing to show for it except getting blamed over and over again for everything in that damn house that went wrong. You know how that goes. Your pa was ten times worse than mine."
Vince was sure as hell right about that. His father might have been on his ass all the time, but Vince hadn't spend his childhood getting the shit beat out of him for every minor infraction.
"Tommy getting hit by that car wasn't your fault, are you ever gonna stop blaming yourself?"
"Yeah sure," Vince muttered. "As soon as he does."
Neither one of them said any more about it.
They rolled into Nashville with the sun coming up in front of them.
"I remember that night like it was yesterday," Deacon said now, shaking his head. "But there's gotta be other reasons."
"Maybe," Rhett said dully, staring into his empty glass. "Or maybe he was just a selfish asshole who only cared about himself."
"Listen," Deacon said with a sigh. "Let me give you a ride home. You got a place?"
Rhett shook off the hand on his shoulder. "Nah, I'm good."
"I wasn't asking. I was tellin."
He'd made that mistake with Vince. He sure as hell wasn't making it with his son.
