Rayna found her voice, finally, and put her hand out, a smile on her face. "Well, hey there, Samantha," she said. "I've heard all about you. All good, of course."
Samantha took her hand hesitantly and quickly pulled it away, a confused look on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, Rayna could see Deacon looking like he wanted to run far away. "Well, you're ahead of me then," Samantha said, recovering her composure, her voice not the slightest bit welcoming. "I had heard nothing about you until maybe ten minutes ago." She glared at Deacon, then looked back at Rayna.
Rayna could feel her face getting warm and her sense of discomfort rising. This wasn't what she'd expected. She looked over at Deacon then, but he was looking off towards the back of the venue. "So is there somewhere to sign up?" she asked.
He turned to look at her then and she saw something in his eyes, sort of like an apology, but then it was gone. "I signed you in," he said.
"Okay. Well, thanks." She looked around the room. "I guess I'll go find someplace to sit down then." She looked back at him. Samantha was still gripping his arm tightly and he looked uncomfortable. "See y'all later," she said, forcing a smile onto her face.
She walked off quickly, wanting to get away from the awkwardness. She felt tears in her eyes and blinked hard, trying to ward them off. There was no reason to cry. She knew Deacon had a girlfriend – that wasn't a surprise. She just hadn't expected he would bring her with him. She bit down on her lip and felt the lump in her throat. She told herself that it wasn't fair to be upset. He'd never promised her anything or let her even think he was interested in her. That was all in her own head.
She finally found a place to sit that was far enough away from the bar so that she didn't have the two of them in her visual field. She couldn't help but feel like Samantha's eyes were on her though. She ordered a Diet Coke, while she waited for her turn, and concentrated on thinking through the songs she was going to do. She was glad she'd brought her guitar after all, since she knew she wouldn't be able to count on Deacon now as her back up. It made her a little nervous, but at least she just had a few songs to do.
When her name was called, she got up and walked up onto the stage. She was surprised, then, to see Deacon approach from the other side. "You don't have to," she whispered.
He shook his head. "Told you I would, so I am," he said, his voice firm, but he couldn't look her in the eye.
She started off with 'Have Mercy', but the rest of her short set was like a blur. She could feel Samantha's cold stare and when her eyes crossed the other woman, she felt like she'd been stabbed. When she finished, she thanked Deacon, then turned and put away her guitar. She walked off the stage and out the back, not really knowing where she was going, her eyes filled with tears.
She leaned back against the wall, holding tightly to her guitar case, squeezing her eyes shut to try and keep the tears at bay. She knew she was being stupid – Deacon was Samantha's boyfriend, not hers. She had no right to be hurt. But she was. She opened her eyes and looked up at the sky. It was a clear night, the stars twinkling, and the three-quarter moon high in the sky. She could hear muted music from inside Shotgun Sally's, as she breathed in and out slowly. She wasn't really sure what to do next, but she knew she couldn't stand out behind the venue all night.
She pushed off the wall and walked down behind the strip center that the bar was in, rounding the corner to the parking lot. The other stores were dark, but the lights were on in the bar and the music was a little less muted, but she couldn't tell who was singing. She had hoped to get the chance to see Deacon perform by himself for a change, but obviously that was not meant to be. She got to her car, put her guitar in the trunk and got in. She sat a few more minutes, looking at the front of the bar, then started her car and drove back to Nashville.
####
He waited at the door, after he knocked. He heard her footsteps and then the door opened. "Hey there, sugar," she said, letting him in. Then she frowned at him. She touched his face. "You look sunburned. Where've you been?"
He breathed in. "The park. You know, just playing." That wasn't a complete lie.
She smiled. "You should wear sunscreen, you know," she said.
He shrugged. "I'm okay."
"So how's it going without your sister here?"
He made a face. "It's gonna be weird. I gotta figure out how to rework things for just me. Start playing some places on my own." She was trying to wrap her arms around him and he moved away from her. "I'm going down to Shotgun Sally's tomorrow," he told her.
She wrinkled her face. "Where's that?"
"Murfreesboro. Down south."
"That's so far." He thought she sounded a little whiny.
He shrugged. "I gotta get back out there, you know? Plus I'm gonna help a friend."
She raised her eyebrows. "What kind of friend?"
He looked away. "Someone I met at the Bluebird. She's just starting out."
"She?" The note in her voice made him turn to look at her. Her eyes were glistening with anger. "Well, I think I better go with you to Murfreesboro then," she said, and he surely wished he'd never mentioned that Rayna would be there.
"Don't you gotta work?" he asked, as his heart sank. She always worked on Mondays, which was why he'd felt safe going. But it was his own fault, for even mentioning Rayna.
She walked up close to him and glared in his face. "Not anymore," she said, her voice low and lethal.
Samantha had been badgering him since the night before about who his friend was. It had made for an uncomfortable night and he'd left right after having angry sex with her. It had left him feeling unsettled and angry with himself. When he got back to his apartment, he'd taken a shower, and then sat on the couch with a bottle of cheap whiskey, drinking until he passed out. So now he had a hangover headache, the kind that stayed all day and caused his temper to be short.
The drive down to Murfreesboro had alternated between stone cold silence and her angry demands that he tell her who he was helping out. It wasn't until they were standing at the bar, after he'd signed in both himself and Rayna, that he'd finally had enough of the nagging.
He frowned at Samantha. "Her name is Rayna. She's just sixteen, so you don't gotta worry about her that way." That wasn't really true, but she didn't need to know that. "She ain't had much experience with this and I was just trying to be nice."
She gripped his arm tightly and leaned in. "Just so she knows to keep her hands off. You're mine, Deacon. Don't you forget it."
He bristled at the possessiveness. She'd always been that way, but it hadn't seemed so…sinister before. Or maybe it was just because he liked Rayna, really liked Rayna, and that made him feel protective of her. "I told you. It ain't like that. So back off her." He glared at her and, for once, she seemed to back down just a touch. That's when Rayna walked up.
She looked so pretty and he felt that warm curl of desire in his gut. She was wearing that short denim skirt that showed off her gorgeous, lean legs. The top she wore clung to her full breasts and it was low enough to show off a bit of cleavage. Her hair fell in sexy waves just above her shoulders and when she smiled, he couldn't help but swallow.
Samantha came on heavy and he could see Rayna was taken aback a little. He was surprised when Rayna didn't let herself be intimidated, being her friendly self. He supposed that was what growing up in Belle Meade did, made you mannered and polite, even in the worst of circumstances. He hardly said two words, feeling like he'd completely lost the command of the English language. He watched as Rayna walked away from them and he wanted to run after her. His eyes followed her as she made her way across the room.
Then suddenly Samantha jerked his arm and he was forced to look back at her. Her eyes were almost slits and the anger on her face made her look surprisingly unattractive. It wasn't really a look he'd seen before. "She doesn't look sixteen to me," she snarled. "That girl is no girl, Deacon. I better not ever hear about you sniffing around her either."
He jerked his arm away and turned to face the bar. He really wanted a drink. Badly. But this wasn't a place that would overlook the fact that he was underage, so he was stuck with a soft drink. As he sipped on his Coke, he thought that no matter how the night turned out, he was going to be in for a world of hurt later on. He just hoped he could keep Rayna out of the line of Samantha's fire.
When Rayna's name was called out, he jumped off the bar stool. Samantha grabbed at his arm. "Wait a minute," she said, her voice a warning. But he shook her off and headed for the stage. He jumped up on it at about the same time Rayna walked up and she looked surprised when she saw him.
He could see a light flush race across her face. "You don't have to," she said, her voice low.
He shook his head, not looking at her as he took his guitar out. "Told you I would, so I am." He got out his guitar and put the strap around his shoulder, then fastened it to the guitar. That's when he looked back at her. "So what are you doing?"
"Oh, um, 'Have Mercy', then the two of mine." He nodded. They'd practiced some, using her songs, so he was familiar with them. She looked at him earnestly. "Thanks."
He only glanced at Samantha once and he thought he could see smoke coming out of her ears, so he kept his focus elsewhere. Eventually he focused on Rayna's back, listening as she sang. She had a beautiful voice. He wondered what it would sound like if she sang some of his songs. Or some of the ones he and Beverly had sung together. Not that he'd probably get the chance to do that again. He suspected Samantha would try to keep a tight leash.
When she was done, she turned to him. "Thanks, Deacon," she said, then she hurried to put away her guitar. He didn't get a chance to talk to her anymore, as she hustled off the stage. And then he saw her scurry out the back and his heart sank. He wondered if he'd ever see her again.
####
As she turned onto 440, she couldn't help but feel sad about how the evening had turned out. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it certainly hadn't been that. She thought back to the look on his face, that look that seemed to say to her that it wasn't what he'd planned. It had made her wonder if she was right and that he had feelings for her. She still couldn't stop thinking about him, but she worried that he thought she was too young, too naïve. He was only nineteen, but that seemed like a huge age difference. He was on his own – a man – and she was just a junior in high school. He'd lived a life, moved far from home, had girlfriends, or at least a girlfriend, and she'd had none of that. She'd grown up in a secluded mansion in the wealthy enclave of Belle Meade, with every advantage she could have asked for. It had always felt like she was a square peg in a round hole though. The times she'd spent with Deacon had surprisingly not felt that way though.
Her heart ached, though, and she had to wonder why she was mourning the loss of something she'd never had. If she was honest with herself, they were worlds apart. But it had felt like music drew them together, although maybe it was just because she wanted it to feel that way. She tried to shake it off as she headed down West End towards home.
When she pulled up the drive, she was surprised to see so many lights on in the house. With her father out of town, it shouldn't have been so lit up. Then her heart seemed to get lodged in her throat as she started to wonder if he'd come home early. She could barely breathe as she slowed her car, fear giving her chills but also, inexplicably, making her hands feel sweaty. She felt sick to her stomach as she pulled around to the back of the house. Her heart was pounding so hard it made her head hurt. She made herself get out of the car and then she slowly walked in through the French doors on the back patio.
She tried walking as softly as she could, through the den and then out into the hallway that led to the foyer. There was no avoiding having to go up the main stairs and risk him seeing her, but she hoped he wouldn't be listening for her. She could see the lights on in his study as she inched her way along the wall. She had just turned to start up the stairs when she heard his voice behind her.
"Where the hell have you been?" he asked, his voice low and lethal.
She took a deep breath and turned around, hoping he couldn't see how hard she was shaking. She swallowed and then said, "Over at a friend's."
He shook his head, his face dark with anger and his eyes ice cold as they bore into hers. "Not dressed like that, you weren't," he said. "I'll ask you again, and remind you to tell me the truth, young lady. Where were you?"
She wanted to burst into tears, but then she thought about what Vernice had said to her. Baby, you gotta do what you're led to. Your mama would want you to follow your dream. You know that. She did know that, so she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath and faced down her father. "I was at an open mic, Daddy," she said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded to her ears.
He took a few steps out into the foyer. "An open mic," he said, his voice deceptively smooth. He smiled then, a cruel, ugly smile. "I believe I've told you before that you are not allowed to do that. Isn't that true, Rayna?"
She hesitated a moment before she spoke. She knew that no matter what she said, this would not go well, so she was determined to say her piece. "Yes, it is true," she said. "But this is what I want to do. This is my dream and I'm going to follow it."
"Not while you live in my house, you're not."
"I don't understand, Daddy," she said angrily, clenching her fists at her side. "Why are you so against this? So against me?"
He smiled again, that smile that gave her chills up and down her spine. "I'm not against you, Rayna. But you are a Wyatt. You're meant for better things than standing in some honky tonk down on Broadway singing for pennies."
"I'm not doing that."
He raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you though? Standing on some little stage, while grown men ogle you and call out to you like you're some kind of white trash from the other side of the river? That's demeaning to someone of your background, Rayna."
She frowned. "How is it demeaning to sing? To do what I love? Why is it so wrong?"
He scowled. "It's hillbilly music, Rayna. It was wrong of your mother to introduce you to that kind of music and encourage you that way."
Mentioning her mom made her furious. "There's nothing wrong with her having let me listen to that!" she cried. "I loved it and I'm happy she shared that with me. It's the one thing I have left from her!" She could feel tears in her eyes then and she blinked hard, not wanting her father to see her emotions.
He waved his hand dismissively at her. "It's of no concern to me anyway, young lady. Because you are grounded, until further notice. And I'll take the keys to your car as well. You aren't going to cross me on this."
"You can't take my car away!" she cried. "How will I get to school?"
He smiled nastily. "Samuel will drive you. And pick you up and bring you straight home."
Now she felt despair. How would she get down to Robert's? How would she see Deacon? "You can't do that!" she cried, stomping her foot.
He laughed, a low, cruel sound. "Oh, yes, I can, and I just did." Then he turned on his heel and went back into his study, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving her standing on the stairs.
Just before her alarm went off the next morning, she had another dream about Deacon. They were standing on the stage, singing together. Again, she didn't hear the words, but this time it was a small place and when they finished, the crowd around them was applauding, but she didn't hear it because she was staring into Deacon's eyes and he was staring back at her. He leaned towards her, putting his hand on the back of her neck as he drew her closer to him. His lips had just touched hers when the alarm broke the spell.
She reached over and turned it off, then lay back on her pillow, looking up at the ceiling. Her heart was beating hard and she had that funny, tingly feeling all up and down her body. She reached up and touched her lips, as though she'd actually been able to feel his lips on hers. She closed her eyes and she could see Samantha's face, cold and angry, and she shuddered. Then she sat up in the bed, drawing her knees to her chest. She wasn't exactly sure what heartbreak was supposed to feel like, but she thought maybe it was what she was feeling right then.
Of course it didn't much matter anymore anyway, since her father had grounded her and taken away her car. She had no idea what she was going to do. She felt so defeated. As she got up and started for the bathroom, something popped into her head and she turned towards her desk. She pulled her notebook out of her book bag and opened it to a blank page. Almost without thinking, she wrote. I had that dream late last night / I was yours and you were mine / Watched you fade into the morning light, again….
####
As soon as he came off the stage, Samantha was in his face. "Let's go," she said. He was happy to. There was no real reason to stay, especially now that Rayna wasn't there. They walked out to his truck and got in. She didn't say anything until they were out on the highway, halfway to home. "She wasn't that good, you know," she said, finally.
He turned to glance at her, a frown on his face. "Yes she is, Samantha."
She crossed her arms firmly over her waist. "Her voice is thin. She's got nice boobs, I'll give her that, but her ass is flat as a pancake and she's short-waisted, which actually makes her look stumpy, even though she's tall. Her songs are childish. She'll never make it."
He shook his head. "You ain't got no idea what you're talking about."
"Yes, I do. I've listened to live music for years now and I know good stuff when I hear it. The only thing that made her even worth listening to was you." She reached over and grabbed his sleeve with her fingers. "And that's the only time you're singing with her."
He set his jaw and decided the better thing to do was not say anything. When he pulled up to her apartments, he told her he wasn't coming up. She pitched a fit, but eventually she realized he meant what he said and she got out of the truck and he watched her stomp up the steps.
He drove home to his own apartment and threw the keys down on the kitchen counter. It was all his fault, he knew. He should never have mentioned Rayna – and he really hadn't meant to – and now he knew Samantha would be watching closely. He sat down hard on the bed. It wasn't that he didn't like Samantha – he did – but there was just something about Rayna that was different. If he'd never met her, he would never have known what he was missing, but Rayna was…she was like the music. He'd never known anyone who inspired him that way.
He got up then and pulled open the top drawer of his dresser, rummaging around until he found the napkin he'd written on the night he'd first seen her. He went and sat at the table, with his notebook, and transferred the words he'd written to a clean page. Then he finished out the song and picked up his guitar.
It was three in the morning when he finally finished, getting lyrics and music the way he wanted them. Then he sang it all the way through.
Sittin' here tonight / By the fire light / it reminds me I already have more than I should
I don't need fame / No one to know my name / At the end of the day / Lord I pray / I have a life that's good
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
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
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
When he was done, he felt tears in his eyes. This song represented what he hoped to find, the kind of life he hoped to lead. What he knew for sure was that the two arms he wanted around him were Rayna's and he'd never been more sure of anything in his life. What he wasn't sure of was how to make that happen. Or if he even could.
Rayna called him on Thursday, sounding sad. "I can't meet you today," she said.
"Why not?" he asked, feeling sorely disappointed. He'd really started looking forward to seeing her.
"Daddy was home the other night, when I came home from the open mic. He was supposed to be out of town," she said.
He knew she tried to hide what she was doing from him, knew her father didn't want her doing it, for some reason. "You get in trouble?"
She sighed. "I'm grounded. And he took my keys, so I can't drive anywhere. I don't even know how long I'm grounded. But it just messes everything up."
He thought for a minute. "How 'bout I come to you?" he asked.
"Really?" He thought she sounded pleased at the idea. "Oh, but what about, well, you know."
He knew what she meant. "She don't gotta know." He bit his lip. "Tell me where you live and I can come there." She gave him the address and he wrote it down. He'd lived in Nashville long enough to know that she lived in the fanciest part of town. It made him stop and think about the fact that she was way out of his league, even if she was just sixteen. She didn't seem so fancy, but the truth was that she was. He took a deep breath. "Okay. So same time?"
"Are you sure? I don't want to cause you any trouble."
He frowned. "I'd do it anyway, Rayna, so don't worry. I can take care of myself."
"I know." Her voice sounded small and he realized he'd probably sounded harsher than he'd meant to. "I just don't want to be a bother."
"You ain't a bother, Rayna," he said, softening his voice. "I want to do this. I want to help you." He cleared his throat. "So I'll see you later."
He could practically hear the smile in her voice. "Thanks, Deacon. I'll see you then."
####
She watched out the front window for his truck. "Miss Rayna?" She turned at the sound of Vernice's voice. The housekeeper had a tray with glasses and a pitcher of iced tea. "I'm gonna put these out back for you and your young man," she said with a smile.
She shook her head. "Oh, he's not like that," she said. "He's just teaching me how to play the guitar. Or trying to, anyway." She smiled sadly.
Vernice gave her a knowing look. "Well, you seemed all perked up 'bout him coming over." She looked Rayna up and down appreciatively. "And you dressed nice. So I think you might like him a bit."
Rayna blushed. "He's just a friend." She smiled. "But thank you for the iced tea." She watched as Vernice turned to head out back. Then she looked down. Vernice was sort of right. As soon as she'd gotten home from school she'd hurried upstairs to her room and thrown off her school uniform and changed into a pair of jeans that she knew fit her well, along with a pretty poet blouse that she thought highlighted her waist. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and then had stood, looking at herself in the mirror, hoping she didn't look like she was trying too hard.
She turned back around then to look out the sidelight window and saw Deacon's truck slowly making its way up the drive. She threw open the door and hurried out onto the portico. She smiled and waved as he pulled to a stop in front of the house. He didn't get out right away, which made her a little nervous. She was afraid he'd be overwhelmed and intimidated and she didn't want that. Finally he opened the door and got out, his eyes wide.
"Hey, Deacon," she called out, waving from the steps.
He walked around towards her, still looking a little shell-shocked. "Hey, Rayna," he said. He looked up and she turned to do the same, looking at the house as though she hadn't seen it a million times before. The columns were two stories tall and imposing, framing the balcony on the second floor and the wide front porch. The tall roof of the porch gave the house a formal look. It wasn't that she'd never really thought about the house before, but she'd grown up there, and her friends all lived in houses just like this one. But she imagined this was not something Deacon was used to. "Wow," he said.
She breathed in. "Thanks for coming over here, Deacon." He lowered his gaze to look at her. "Come on, we're going to be out back on the patio."
He followed her up the steps and, as they walked to the back of the house side by side, she watched him as he looked first towards the formal dining room to the left, then at her father's study to the right. They passed a smaller parlor, then walked through the den, the place she felt most comfortable. Then they walked out onto the patio. The tray with glasses and tea was sitting on the patio table.
She waved her hand towards the chairs. "We can sit here," she said. "Vernice made us tea." He looked at her then, a puzzled look on his face. "Our housekeeper," she said softly, feeling strangely embarrassed.
She could see him breathe in as he looked around. "Maybe we could sit on the steps," he said, nodding towards the steps that led to the back lawn.
"Oh, okay," she said. "Uh, do you want some tea?"
He smiled then, the first smile he'd given her. "Um, sure," he said. She went and poured two glasses of iced tea and brought them over to where he was already sitting on the steps. She held out a glass and he took it and then she went back for her guitar. When she was sitting beside him, he looked over at her. "Thanks."
She smiled. "Thanks for coming over here."
He sighed then. "Why do you want to do this, Rayna?"
She frowned. "Do what? Learn the guitar?"
"Be an artist. Be on stage."
"Because it's my dream. Because I feel like I'm supposed to be doing that." She was confused as to why he was asking.
He breathed in and looked around. "You got all this. You could have anything you want. Why would you do something that's gonna be so hard?"
"Because it's worth it to do what I love." He didn't say anything and she frowned. "It's not like the only people who can do this are…I don't know. Am I not good enough?"
He shook his head. "It ain't that you aren't good enough. You're too good. You don't need to suffer."
"You ever think maybe I want to?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Maybe I don't want everything handed to me, Deacon. You ever thought about that?" He looked away. "Yes, I could probably just coast along, but I'm not as smart as my sister, so I wouldn't be going to Vanderbilt. I don't know that I even want to go to college. The only thing I want to do is sing on stage. Why do I need college for that?"
He looked back at her. "Ain't you just gonna marry some Belle Meade guy and go to parties and stuff at that country club? Be with your people?"
She stared at him, thinking about that. Then she laughed. "I don't want to do that. And those are not my people. I don't fit in with them." She hugged her knees to her chest. "Kids at school laugh at me because I like country music. I don't have a boyfriend. Never have, really. I've never kissed a boy. Not a real kiss anyway. Yes, my daddy's really rich and he's very powerful in Nashville, but that doesn't mean I want the same things." She bit her lip. "I know it'll be tough and I'll have to work hard. I know I won't just get up on a stage in front of twenty thousand people right away. I'm ready to pay my dues. I just want to be an artist."
He gave her a little smile then. "You're good enough."
She shook her head. "I've got a long way to go to be good enough."
"You'll do it. I feel it." He sighed. "I never been in a place like this. I never known anyone who lived like this. Just seems like it would be a good life."
"I think it's the same life, Deacon, just in a different house."
He shook his head. "It's different where I come from."
"What's it like there? In Mississippi?
"Hot." He laughed a little and she smiled. "Natchez ain't like Nashville. Lotta hardscrabble people there. The kinda place you wanna leave."
"And here you are. Will you stay?"
"I want to. I wanna be able to write songs and sing 'em. I'd like one day to have my own spotlight at the Bluebird, ya know? Have number one records, play in front of big audiences. Same as you."
"You're farther along the road than me. You've already got a lot of songs. And you've made money at it too, right?"
He shrugged. "A little. Not a lot."
She swallowed. "And you have someone supporting your dreams." He frowned. "Samantha." He looked away. "She came with you to Shotgun Sally's."
He shrugged and looked back at her. "I guess."
She really wanted to ask him how he felt about Samantha, but she was afraid of the answer. Afraid he'd say he loved her. So she decided to change the subject. "I've been working on a song."
He smiled. "Really? Let's hear it then."
She picked up her guitar and started to painstakingly pick out the chords.