I had a day off from the studio, while Dan was working with a different artist. It felt good to sleep in, especially because Deacon was next to me. When I woke up that morning, I turned to face him. He was lying on his side, his head propped on his fist. He was smiling at me, his eyes crinkled at the edges. For as long as we'd been together, he could still send that tingle all the way from my head down to my toes, with just a look, and I found myself blushing a little, feeling a shyness that seemed silly. "Hey," I said quietly.

He reached his hand over and ran it down my arm. "Hey, baby," he said. "I thought maybe you'd like to go to the studio with me today."

Deacon had been working on his album for several weeks and I knew he was feeling frustrated. They had told him he had to put the album together in four weeks and, with all the difficulty he'd had with the producer, it had been a rough go. I tried not to talk so much about my experience, which had been so different from his. I didn't have to try to make a song perfect in two or three takes. I didn't have that same short deadline, although I knew Dan wouldn't let it go on forever. And Deacon still needed to come in and lay down his guitar and vocal tracks. But his album came first. We had both agreed. I smiled at him. "I would love to," I said. I was excited to get the chance to see him at work. Plus I hoped it might calm him down a little and take away some of his tension.

###

Deacon led me into the control room. A heavy set guy with a long, messy beard and a slightly greasy ponytail looked up at us. He didn't look very friendly, but I tried to smile anyway. He almost scowled at me. Deacon ran his hand up and down my back, more to calm himself down than me, I thought. "Ace, this is Rayna," he said.

I could have sworn the guy practically sneered at me. "Yeah?" he said.

"Can she sit here and listen?"

Ace shrugged. "She can do whatever the fuck she wants," he said, dismissing me and turning his attention to the sound board. "You're late, by the way."

I could feel Deacon tense up. He took a deep breath. "Well, I'm here now, so…."

Ace looked back up, a disinterested look on his face. "Let's do it, then. You got your shit ready?"

"Yeah."

"Get set up then. I'll let the guys know you're here." Ace hit an intercom and loudly said, "The talent's here. Let's get a move on. Time's a wastin'."

Deacon squeezed my hand and gave me an apologetic look. "Good luck, babe," I said with a smile. I didn't like the disrespectful tone Ace used and I didn't think I actually liked him at all. I could understand why this experience was stressful for Deacon and I started to appreciate more my own experience. Randy was a good producer and he treated me respectfully, even though he was tough. Ace was just a jackass.

I watched Deacon walk out into the studio and take his guitar out of the case, getting set up. The session musicians came in to set up and I felt better as I watched them greet him with warm smiles, handshakes and back slaps. His friend Vince was one of them and, even though I thought Vince encouraged him down a bad path sometimes, I knew they were close and that it probably made Deacon feel more at ease.

As I stood there, I sensed Ace looking at me. I turned towards him and just raised my eyebrows. He took a beat and then he just shrugged and turned back to face the studio. He leaned into the mic. "Let's get going, y'all," he snarled. "Ain't got all day for you ladies to have a tea party."

Deacon caught my eye as I scowled. He knew me so well and he knew I was probably ready to say something to Ace and he gave me a look that said "don't", so I didn't. But I felt bad that this was what he had to put up with. I listened as they ran through the instrumentals, thinking they sounded really good. I'd been so busy myself that Deacon hadn't had a chance to play everything he'd written for the album for me, so this was new. They ran through the entire song once, then Ace had them redo a handful of sections. Then they ran through two more instrumental sets and Ace sent the musicians on their way.

Now it was Deacon's turn to lay down his vocal tracks. I was really looking forward to seeing how this turned out. Ace actually had him start out with two songs that I had already heard, 'Been and Gone' and 'Walk a Mile'. Then he started one I had not.

I loved watching Deacon sing. He had never been one to be able to hide his emotions and those always played all over his face while he performed. I watched him, his eyes closed most of the time, but occasionally looking up at me. I felt that warm tentacle of desire that always swirled through me whenever I heard him sing.

I love to watch a woman dance / She bows her head and lifts her hands / Her hips begin to circle slowly / Her eyes have closed; her face is holy / She holds the whole world in a trance / I love to watch a woman dance / Yeah, I love to watch a woman dance

She likes the slow songs of love lost / They take her a million miles away / 'Cause to dream, sometimes, it's the only way / To go places you can't get to any other way / Our eyes connect; she takes my hand / I love to watch a woman dance / Yeah, I love to watch a woman dance

I was entranced by the song. Deacon wasn't really a dancer, but he would sometimes dance with me. Mostly at home, but once in a while we might do it when we were out together, usually early in the evening. It was usually to some slow song, and that's what this reminded me of. His eyes connected with mine and I knew it was for me.

I feel my heart beating, and I wonder / Will it ever satisfy? / I'm gonna hold on to you for as long as I can / 'Cause who knows, this dance may be our only dance

So we danced together, close and slow / So slow we're almost standing still / Her warm breath against my neck / Slowly breaking down my will / The room spins so I can barely stand / The song ends; then, she lets go of my hand / There's so much I don't understand / I love to watch a woman dance / Yeah, I love to watch a woman dance

When he finished, I realized I'd been holding my breath. It was such a lovely song. His eyes were still locked with mine and I could see all his emotions. But of course, then Ace had to ruin the moment. "Okay, dude, we're done today," he said. Then he shut down the board and pushed up from the console, lumbering out of the control room with barely a glance my way.

I continued to stand there, letting the song wash over me. Deacon packed up his guitar, then left the studio and came into the control room. He took my hand. I still felt a little breathless. "That was beautiful, babe," I said softly.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek. "It was for you," he said.

###

We left the studio and headed for the bar we usually went to, near the apartment. The mood that had been created by that song was still hanging over us as we drank shots of whiskey. Then Deacon pulled me into his arms and leaned into my ear. "I love to watch you dance," he whispered.


That first night I hardly slept a wink. First of all, Deacon's bed really wasn't all that comfortable, plus the sheets were scratchy. Not like my nice soft sheets at home. I tried not to think about how long it might have been since he'd washed these. I rolled over onto my side and buried my face in the pillow. It smelled like him, but also a little like booze and sweat. I rolled to my back again. Ugh. That wasn't really all that pleasant. I definitely needed to wash these if I was going to stay here longer.

I hadn't brought anything with me, so Deacon had let me wear one of his t-shirts. It was a Merle Haggard t-shirt. Deacon had told me Merle was his country music hero. Merle and Johnny. I couldn't argue with that. Classic country. The best. Anyway, the shirt was super-soft and it made me feel like I was all wrapped up in Deacon. It hung down past my thighs, but I left on my panties anyway. Still, it made me feel all tingly to be almost undressed, sleeping in Deacon's bed, with him just on the other side of a closed door.

It had been sort of weird after he brought me here. He was all stiff and formal, so not like Deacon. It made me giggle a little, because I was pretty sure he was trying to behave and honor his promise not to take advantage of me. I thought about that. I had been letting him go to second base for a while now and I really liked it. It sort of intensified all those strange and wonderful sensations I had, feeling his hands on my breasts or his mouth on my nipples.

He always seemed kind of withdrawn afterwards though, like it wasn't enough. For him anyway. I knew about going all the way. I'd heard girls talk about that. Lots of girls at school went to third base, but I wasn't exactly sure what was different about that. A couple of girls bragged about going all the way, but no one knew for sure if they really had. But it scared me. I was sure I wanted to do that with Deacon, but I didn't know how to talk to him about it. I wasn't sure I was ready anyway.

I was really hoping this worked out. Because if it didn't, I don't know what I was going to do.


Just when I thought things were getting better, the bottom seemed to fall out. Deacon was increasingly frustrated with his recording sessions and more often than not, he'd go out and get drunk afterwards. We were fighting again, mostly over his drinking. But I was also getting more and more concerned about it. Whenever things got tough, he'd get drunk and he'd pull away from me. More than once, he'd stayed out all night, which scared me. I'd sit up waiting for him, wondering if something had happened to him. Then when he did get home, we'd fight.

I'd really started to wonder if he had a serious drinking problem. One that needed a more serious solution. I thought back to Beverly's words to me, that in taking him on I'd chosen a life of pain and disappointment. I knew he was frustrated with how things were – my being signed to a record deal as a solo act, his experience working on an album of his own, feeling disconnected from me – but I didn't really understand why he felt the need to cover it up with alcohol and pull away.

What I did know for sure is that it was exhausting being in a relationship with someone who couldn't control his drinking. Deacon had always been a drinker, but over the years we'd been together it had gotten worse. One of the things I knew about him was that he had deep, dark demons that seemed to chase him. He didn't like to talk about his past, about his childhood, about the things he and Beverly had had to deal with growing up, so I didn't really know how to help him. If I tried to get him to talk about that, he'd get angry and then pull away.

He'd had issues with being unreliable because of his drinking and now it seemed to be escalating. Just when it seemed that life was looking up for us, he seemed determined to tear it down. I knew he'd gone to recording sessions drunk and on at least one occasion that I knew of, he'd missed a session completely. I wanted to help him, but I wasn't really sure how. All I could do was try to keep him safe and love him. And try to keep him from self-destructing as much as I could.

When he'd finally finished his album, I had hoped things would even out. At first it seemed to improve his mood, not having to deal with Ace and all the tension. He'd started laying down his guitar and vocal tracks for my album. But then he went out one night with Vince and Cy and as I dozed on the couch, waiting for him, I was startled awake by the phone. As I picked up the receiver, I noticed on the clock that it was after two.

It was a recording that started "This is a collect call from the Cheatham County jail from" and then I heard Deacon's voice say his name, sounding thick with liquor. My heart sank. I pressed one to accept the call, feeling like I had a huge boulder in my stomach. "Deacon?" I said softly, my voice shaking.

"Ray," he said. "I'm so sorry." He said it in a rush and I almost didn't understand him.

I felt hot tears roll down my face. How many times had he said that to me? How many more times would he say that to me? I sighed. "What happened, Deacon?" I asked.

"I wasn't driving, I promise," he said, speaking slowly so that he didn't slur his words together. "It was Vince." He paused. "Will you come get us?"

I pulled my knees up to my chin and laid my head down. What a mess. "No," I said.

"No? Why not?" He sounded a little belligerent then.

"I'll come get you, Deacon. Not Vince." I didn't know what to do with this. I wasn't sure I was strong enough for this. I didn't want this to become my life, but I couldn't abandon him, that I knew for sure.

"Baby, please," he pleaded.

"Just you."

And so it began.


Deacon took me to Tandy's the next day to get my things. I had hoped she wouldn't be there, but she was. The minute I walked through the door, she grabbed me. "Rayna, where the hell have you been?" she cried. Then Deacon walked into the apartment behind me and she froze. She dropped her arms and stepped back, looking over her shoulder. "So you're Deacon?" she asked, her voice chilly.

I turned to look at him. He nodded, his face guarded. I looked back at my sister. "Just keep it to yourself, Tandy," I warned.

Tandy clenched her jaw and looked at me, then back at Deacon. "I will not," she said. "You're staying here with me, Rayna."

I shook my head. "No, I'm not. All you're gonna do is try to talk me into going back to Daddy's house and I'm not doing it." I put my hands on my hips and glared at her. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Deacon smirk slightly. "I'm going to be a country music artist and nobody's stopping me."

Tandy stood there, fuming. She jerked her head towards Deacon. "And that's who you're going to do that with? Really?"

"I'll take care of her," Deacon said, frowning.

Tandy threw her hands up and rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, you'll take care of her alright. You'll ruin her. She's just a child, sixteen years old. You'll destroy her before she's even had a chance."

"I'm not a child!" I cried. I turned to Deacon. "Help me get my things. I'm out of here." I pushed past Tandy and Deacon followed me. He got my heavier suitcases and I got the rest. Deacon headed out the door and I stopped to face my sister, whose face was a mix of sadness and anger. "I don't want us to fight, Tandy," I said. "But I have to do this. And I want to be with Deacon."

Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks and she brushed them away. "I worry about you, babe," she said. "I know Mom would want me to look out for you and I just, well, I worry. You're so young. I don't want him to take advantage of you."

I felt my anger melt a little. "It'll be okay." I took a deep breath. "I love him, Tandy. And he loves me." I didn't know that to be true, but I hoped it would help her let go a little.

She looked away from me, the tears still coming. "That's what I was afraid of," she said, her voice cracking. She looked back at me. "I think you're both too young to know what love really is. So if it doesn't work out, I'll be here. You know that."

I nodded. "I do. But I'm right about this." She put her arms around me. I dropped the bags I was carrying and hugged her back. "Don't worry," I whispered.

"I can't help it," she whispered back. Then she let me go and stepped back.

I gave her one last hopeful smile and then picked up my things and walked out the door. As I came down the steps, I saw Deacon leaning against the truck, waiting for me. When I walked up to him, he took the last of my bags and put them in the truck. Then he took me in his arms and held me close. I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning into his shoulder. "Come on, baby, let's go," he said.


We got past the night in jail. That time. Although Deacon wasn't driving, he did get into a fight, but after paying a fine, the charges were dropped. But it wasn't the last time it happened, unfortunately. Or the last time I had to go drag him out of a bar. Or pick him up somewhere because he was too drunk to drive. Or passed out, so he couldn't drive.

Every single time, Deacon told me how sorry he was. With those puppy dog eyes and a little glisten of tears, it was hard to stay mad at him. And then when he took me in his arms and he kissed me on the neck and the cheek and the lips and said, again, how sorry he was, I started to feel that telltale heat. And then he would touch me in those secret places, those places he knew set my blood on fire, and I would let him tell me yet again how sorry he was as he made love to me.

I hated the sweaty, pukey smell of those nights, the bloodshot eyes, the slurred words. I hated myself for letting those kisses and touches and whispered endearments pull me back, when what I really wanted was to not have to deal with it anymore. But I also loved Deacon Claybourne beyond measure. Almost from the moment we had met, he'd been part of me. I could no more truly let him go than I could stop breathing. So I stayed and I did my best to keep him safe and alive.

###

I really wanted that album to help him feel like he could overcome his demons. He was so proud, when it was done and pressed. He brought it home and we listened to it over and over again. It was so damn good and I was so proud of him that I cried. My album was going more slowly, but there was a lot more money at stake, so Dan wanted it to be perfect. But no matter how much money went into making it, I knew Deacon's was perfect too.

After we'd listened to it for about the twelfth time, I let Deacon pour me another shot of whiskey and I smiled at him. "I love it so much, babe," I said. "It's just so amazing. I think my favorite songs are the ones you wrote for me. 'A Life That's Good' and 'I Love to Watch a Woman Dance'. It's all pretty perfect, but those are the best."

He pulled me in close and kissed me. Then he looked at me, love filling his eyes. "I wrote 'em all for you, baby," he said. "Every one of 'em. They're all about you. Every song I write is about you."

###

It turned out that Deacon's record deal was not much more than just a deal to produce an album. White Horse didn't have much money, influence, or clout in Nashville or with record distributors or radio stations. He knew that when he agreed to the deal, but I think he really didn't understand what it all meant, nor did I. And Deacon wasn't the best at self-promotion. He got angry too often when he felt he was being disrespected or ignored. What he really needed was a manager.

He still did solo sets around town. Usually I would go with him, but one night my recording session ran really late and he went without me. I went home afterwards and was already in bed when he got home. I woke up when he crawled into bed, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my neck. I giggled a little and wrapped my arms around his. "I think I found a manager, baby," he whispered.

I turned in his arms, reaching up to take his face in my hands. "Really?" He nodded, a smile on his face. "Oh, babe, that's so great. How did it happen?"

"After my set tonight. This woman came up to me and told me she could help me establish my career."

I pulled back a little. "A woman?"

He grinned and kissed me. "Ain't no woman can top you, baby. But she's legit. I asked around. She's pretty new in the business, but she's had success with new artists and she thinks I can crack this."

I still wasn't thrilled about a woman managing Deacon, but then I had Bucky managing me, so I guessed it was kind of the same thing. "Who is she?"

"Her name's Marilyn. Marilyn Rhodes." He rolled me over on my back and laid on top of me, kissing my neck and my lips. "She said she thinks I could be huge, Ray," he whispered against my lips. "And she wants to help me get there."

I made a mental note to ask Bucky about this Marilyn Rhodes and then Deacon touched me right in that place that made all coherent thought fly right out of my head.

###

I forgot to ask Bucky about Marilyn, but I got to meet her myself the next night. Deacon was playing another local spot and she sat next to me at the bar. I don't know how I knew it was her, but I wasn't surprised when she started a conversation with me. She nodded towards the stage. "That your boyfriend up there?" she asked, smiling pleasantly.

I glanced towards Deacon, up on stage, and smiled back at her. "Yeah, it is." I looked her over. She was wearing jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of well-worn boots. Her dark brown hair was lightly curled and settled on her shoulders. She had honey brown eyes and an attractive smile. She seemed maybe a little older than Deacon, but it was hard to tell for sure. She was pretty, but not in an overtly sexual way. I felt a little better.

She extended her nicely manicured and ringed hand. "I'm Marilyn Rhodes. I heard Deacon last night and I think he's really got something special. He told me he just finished an album, but has no radio or distribution support. I see a lot of young artists make that mistake, think they can do an album and then they'll be a star, but it's one of these low budget labels that can't or won't support their artists." She smiled again, a warm, genuine smile. "I can help him. I've got lots of contacts and I can get him a nice regular spot on a hot night and get some buzz generated around him. I've got radio contacts that I can hook him into also."

I was impressed. "Wow," I said, raising my eyebrows. "That sounds like just what he needs." I leaned towards her. "His album really is good."

She looked at me a moment. "Yeah, it is." She sat back and looked me over. "He told me you have a recording deal. With Dan Eagle at Edgehill Republic."

I nodded. "I do. Deacon's doing guitar and vocals with me."

She smiled. "I'm thinking he may not have time for that before too long. I think I can make him a top selling artist, on his own."

"I would love that for him," I told her.

She got up from her stool and put a hand on my arm. "It was good to meet you, Rayna." And then she was gone. As I watched her walk off, I realized I had never actually told her my name.

###

I finally remembered to ask Bucky about Marilyn a few days later, because Deacon had a meeting with her that night. I was at a late dinner with Bucky and Dan and when there was a lull in the conversation around doing the video for 'Notice Me', I asked. "Buck, do you know Marilyn Rhodes?"

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly. "Yeah, I do. Are you shopping other managers?"

I shook my head and smiled at him. "Oh, no, of course not. But she's interested in managing Deacon, so I wondered what you knew about her. I met her the other night and she seems to have a good plan."

Dan frowned at me. "Don't let Deacon anywhere near her," he said, somewhat forcefully.

I was surprised at that. "Why not?" It sort of annoyed me, considering Dan wasn't at all interested in Deacon as an artist. Why would it matter who managed him?

"She's bad news, Rayna," he said.

"She can deliver on her promises," Bucky chimed in. "Most of them, anyway. But there's a string attached to signing with Marilyn."

I frowned. "What kind of string?"

Bucky looked uncomfortable and Dan jumped in. "She only manages good-looking male artists under the age of thirty. And they have to, well, grant her favors, or she's not interested."

I made a face. "Favors? Do you mean she sleeps with them?"

Dan shrugged. "They sleep with her, is really a better way to put it. If the guy doesn't sleep with her, she won't rep them."

I gasped. "Oh, my God." I felt a cold chill run up my spine. I was sure Deacon wouldn't do that. Or would he? He wanted a career the same as I did. Would he be willing to give her what she wanted? I felt sick to my stomach. I was sure I knew him better than that, that he would never do that to me. But I couldn't help but worry a little. All of a sudden I had a really bad headache.

###

Deacon wasn't home when I got there. My stomach was in a knot as I sat on the couch and chewed on my fingernails. I couldn't sit still, though, and I jumped off the couch and went into the kitchen. I opened one of the cabinets and got out a bottle of whiskey. I poured myself a shot and downed it quickly. Then I poured myself another and downed it as well. I stood there, breathing deeply around the burn down my throat, my eyes tearing just a little, both from the whiskey and the anxiety and fear.

"Damn it, Deacon," I whispered to myself. Then I had another shot. Finally feeling a little less antsy, I went back to sit on the couch and wait.

Maybe a half hour later I heard a truck come roaring into the parking lot and screech to a halt. I was afraid to get up and look out the window to see if it was Deacon. I heard a door slam and then shortly after I heard heavy footsteps come up the steps. I held my breath. When the key hit the lock, I breathed out, wondering what had happened. Deacon walked in, a dark scowl on his face. He saw me on the couch and looked surprised for only a moment.

"Ray," he said.

I swallowed hard. "How'd it go?" I croaked out.

His face went dark again and he shook his head. "It didn't." He came and sat next to me, breathing in and out as though he were trying to control his temper. Then he looked at me, sadness in his eyes, and took my hand, holding it tightly. "I ain't signing with her."

I was holding my breath and couldn't breathe out yet. "You're not?" I managed.

"It ain't worth it. Not for what she expects as payment." He took a deep breath and I finally managed to let mine out. Then he leaned in and kissed me. "If that's the only way I can be on my own, I don't want it that bad."

Tears started trickling down my face. "But don't you want your own career?" I asked, my voice low.

He shook his head. "Not if I had to hurt you to do it." I closed my eyes and let the tears come. He pulled me into his arms and kissed my cheek, my closed eyes, my lips. "Don't cry, baby," he said quietly. "Please don't cry." He paused. "Look at me." I took a deep breath and then I opened my eyes. He took my face in his hands and wiped at my tears with his thumbs, then gave me a small smile. "If I gotta stand behind you on stage for the rest of my life, that's what I'll do. I won't ever hurt you to get a deal. Ever." He brushed my lips with his. "I love you, Ray. You're my whole life. You and me, Ray. That's all it's ever gonna be."

The tears were still coming, but I smiled as I leaned in and kissed him. "That's all I ever wanted to hear," I said.


I'd been at Deacon's apartment for two days. I found out he had a part-time job busing tables a couple mornings a week at Hermitage Diner, which was how he was really able to afford this small apartment. While he was gone, I decided I would clean up. It was the least I could do, since he was letting me stay here. He had tried to straighten up, but it was clear he was no housekeeper. So I drove to the closest grocery store and picked up cleaning supplies. When I got back, I started with the kitchen.

Three hours later, I started on the bedroom. I had sorted out his clothes as well as the bed sheets and towels and gone to the laundry room in the complex and started the wash. I went back to the apartment and started working on the rest of the bedroom. I organized his closet and dresser so that I could put my own things away. It was when I was going through those drawers that I found the napkin from the Bluebird. I almost threw it away but then I saw that there was writing all over it.

Two arms around me, heaven to ground me / And a family that always calls me home / Four wheels to get there, enough love to share / And a sweet sweet sweet song / At the end of the day, Lord I pray / I have a life that's good

I didn't think I'd ever heard him sing these words. I frowned as I kept reading.

Sometimes I'm hard on me / When dreams don't come easy / I wanna look back and say / I did all that I could / Yeah at the end of the day, Lord I pray / I have a life that's good

I wondered when he'd written this. Clearly it was sometime after he'd come to Nashville, since it was a Bluebird napkin. It was a really pretty song. I'd have to ask him, so I left it on the top of the dresser, and continued working around the room.

By the time he got home, I'd moved the wash to the dryers and then collected that, folding and putting everything away. I was putting the sheets back on the bed, when I heard the key in the lock and the door open.

"Rayna?" he called out.

I walked out of the bedroom, a pillow in my arms. I smiled. "Hey."

He smiled at me. "Hey." Then he looked around, a confused look on his face. "What you doing?"

"Cleaning." I winked at him. "This place was a mess."

He blushed a little. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm really not much for cleaning."

I shrugged. "It's okay. It felt good to be useful."

He walked over and, putting his hands on my arms, leaned in and kissed me. "Well, thank you. Uh, I'm gonna take a shower." He headed in that direction.

"There's clean towels in the bathroom," I called out after him.

"Thank you, Rayna," he responded, laughter in his voice.

When I heard the water running in the shower, I went back in the bedroom and finished making up the bed. Then I went out to the kitchen and got two bottles of beer out of the fridge and then sat on the couch, putting the beer on the coffee table. When he finally came out of the bedroom, with just a pair of jeans on and his hair damp, I struggled to breath. I thought I was going to die from the gorgeousness of him.

He looked at me, that little crease running down between his eyebrows. It was then that I noticed he had the napkin I'd left on the dresser in his hand. "Where did you find this?" he asked.

"Um, I was straightening out the drawers in there and it was lying on top of one of your shirts. I thought it might have been important." I was worried he was mad, but he didn't seem like it.

He came and sat down next to me, laying the napkin on the table and picking up a beer. He took a long, deep swallow. I felt that peculiar warmth rise up inside me as I watched him. He seemed to sense I was doing that and when he lowered the bottle from his mouth, he looked at me and smiled.

I nodded towards the napkin. "Is that a song you were working on?" He looked a little guarded, but he nodded. "What's it about?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes filled with emotion. "You," he said quietly.

That surprised me. "Me? When did you write it?"

He cleared his throat and took another swallow of the beer. "The night Watty introduced us."

Then I remembered. When I was singing, he was scribbling on a napkin. "You didn't even know me then," I whispered.

He gave me that puppy dog look. "I know. But I knew, right then."

"Knew what?" I could hardly get the words out.

He finished the beer and set the bottle down. He turned towards me and he breathed in. "I knew you were the one," he said.

At first I couldn't say anything. My heart was beating so hard, I was afraid he could hear it. My mouth went dry. He leaned in and kissed me, ever so gently. I gasped and then reached up to put my hand on his face. I looked into his eyes. "I love you, Deacon," I said.

He put his hand on the back of my neck and leaned forward to kiss me again. Then he touched his forehead to mine. "I love you too, Ray," he said. Then he sat back, a deep sadness in his eyes as he looked at me. He sighed, working his lip. He looked away for a moment, and that scared me. Then he looked back. "I don't know if it's a good idea for you to stay here," he said finally.


We never talked about Marilyn Rhodes again. Deacon never actually told me she'd made sleeping with her a condition of signing him, but I didn't need him to tell me that. I didn't tell him what I'd found out about Marilyn either. Since it was obvious that he'd not taken her up on it, it didn't really matter. It hurt me to see his disappointment and disillusionment, though. He'd worked hard on that record and put his soul into it and now it felt spoiled somehow.

I was sad that his album never charted and that sales were not great. Maybe he could have found another manager, someone with integrity, that would have made him a star, but after that experience he just settled into being my guitar player and back up. Eventually I made him my bandleader and, to me, he was as much a part of my success as I was. I always told people that there would be no Rayna Jaymes if there hadn't been Deacon Claybourne, and it was true. He made me better in every way, both personally and professionally, and I couldn't imagine my life without him in it. No matter what life threw our way.

The song in this chapter is "I Love to Watch a Woman Dance" by The Eagles.