Rayna
Everything seemed to have started in a rush. Almost as soon as she'd signed her contract, she and Mr. White had started looking at songs for her first album. He had found her a cowriter to work with, someone who was about 10 years older than she was and who had a lot of experience writing hit songs. Her name was Mandy Rose, and she was also patient, which had been a blessing. She still felt uncomfortable writing her own music, but Mandy had helped her to dig into her life experiences, as few as there were at that point, and put them into songs that she liked. The thing she liked most about Mandy was her ability to take what seemed like just a general conversation and turn it into the basis of a song, practically without her even realizing they were doing it. The very first song they wrote together was called It's My Life, a song about breaking away from her father's influence and being determined to make her own way. It had a different sound than she'd originally considered, but the punch of the melody turned out to be perfect for her feelings at that time.
Mandy also was a great mentor, providing her with invaluable advice. Mandy was the one who'd told her to write every day, to make it a habit. It doesn't have to be a song a day or anything, just write. Ideas, phrases, maybe even a verse or chorus. Anything to help the creative juices keep flowing.
One afternoon they were sitting in a room at Mandy's publishing house, and she had felt like she'd come to the session with no inspiration. Mandy didn't push her own ideas, just tried to pull something from her that would start them down a path. But that afternoon nothing seemed to be working and she was getting frustrated. So Mandy suggested they get lunch brought in and they took a break while they ate.
She was doing a set at Douglas Corner that weekend and they were talking about what songs she might include. She had a couple of songs finished from her sessions with Mandy, who suggested she try them out to get a sense of how audiences took to them.
"You know, Rayna, I'm gonna be in a writers' round this Saturday night at the Bluebird. Can you come and listen? I can introduce you to the guys I'm doing the round with."
She smiled. "I'd love to." She sighed. "One day I hope I can go back to the Bluebird and do a writers' round myself."
"You will. So you've played there before?"
She shrugged. "Just a couple open mics."
"What was the first time like?"
She thought back to that night, smiling. "It was so many things. Amazing, scary, overwhelming, magical. I even fell in love that night."
Mandy sat forward eagerly. "Tell me about that. The falling in love thing."
She felt herself blush, wishing she hadn't said anything. "It's silly really."
"It's a story, Rayna. You can always make it whatever you want it to be."
"We're gonna make it a song?" She knew personal experiences were how songs were written, but this seemed like a lot of nothing. It was an impression, after all, not like they'd met and she'd fallen in love. That would be different.
Mandy shrugged. "Maybe. We won't know until you describe it."
She thought about it and then sighed. "It really wasn't anything. But I was on stage doing my song and I noticed this guy at the bar watching me. Not like, you know, the normal watching someone sing, but really watching me. Intently."
"Like a stalker or something?"
She shook her head. "No, no. Like he was, I don't know, interested in me somehow. Like he was really paying attention."
Mandy scooted forward in her chair. "What did he look like?"
"He was really handsome, I remember. Dark hair that was a little shaggy. He looked like he had a, what do they call it, a five o'clock shadow? Only a little more than that. And his eyes seemed to just be looking into my soul."
"What color eyes?"
"I don't know. He was too far away."
"What was he wearing?"
She laughed a little. What difference did it make what he was wearing? "I don't know. A shirt and jeans. And boots. I remember boots, when he got on stage."
"So, you heard him sing?" She nodded. "What did he sound like?"
She thought back. It wasn't really like she had to search deeply into her memory, but she also didn't want to tell Mandy that she still dreamed about him. Still heard his voice. "Mellow, I guess. It was kind of crazy how he sounded like he was really living the lyrics. And I don't know a lot about playing guitar but I could tell he was really good." She bit her bottom lip. "I remember thinking he was like a cowboy. He had that look."
Mandy grabbed her notebook. "This is good stuff, Rayna. Do you remember his name?"
She shook her head. "I was just so... surprised, I guess, that I wasn't paying attention."
"That's okay. Having him be kind of mysterious is even better. Kind of a cowboy love song."
Of course, it ended up being a cowgirl love song, a story of unrequited love, but that was okay. The song became Cowgirls Love Too Hard, which then became the name of her first album. With Watty – he finally convinced her she needed to call him Watty instead of Mr. White – helping with choosing the songs for her album, working with her on the arrangements, and then managing the process of producing the album, it was like lightning in a bottle. The album shot up the charts quickly for a new artist, finally hitting #1 after 34 weeks. Then it just continued to sell. She got 3 songs on the radio and although none of them hit #1, they all hovered in the top 10 for weeks. She was a hot commodity. She was called 'the future of country music'.
She was performing in front of more people, in theaters and music halls around the region, the kinds of places where there would be 750 to 1,000 people. As word began to spread, she was selling out many of those locations, which was exciting to her. Edgehill was trying to get her a spot on a bigger selling artist's tour, but because she was a woman it was still proving to be a challenge. She had big dreams and she wasn't very patient so it was killing her to have to wait.
"I don't understand, Michael. My record's gone 2 times platinum and it's headed for 3 times. And I still can't get picked up by a big tour?" She was pacing in her manager's office. "I thought Edgehill was talking to George Strait and Alan Jackson."
Michael shrugged. "They're both taking out other artists. We're doing our best, Rayna. But you know..."
"I know." She rolled her eyes. "All they want is male openers. But that's not fair. What about female artists?"
"We've got our feelers out with Mary Chapin Carpenter, The Judds, Tanya Tucker."
She sighed deeply. She knew those would all be good gets, but it would mean more to open for a big male artist. She understood that, even if she didn't like it. "Is there anything else?"
"Well, there's the fair and festival circuit." She rolled her eyes again. "That's the normal progression, Rayna. You know that."
She looked at him. He was young and fairly new to the industry. Edgehill had assigned him to her, thinking they would make a good team. She was young too, and not as big a name as Reba McEntire or Tanya Tucker. She knew it would take time, but she wanted it now. And she wondered if she needed a bigger, more important agent to do that. She'd have to talk to Watty about that. She liked Michael, but she wanted so much more. "I guess I was hoping that with how well my record's doing that it would make a difference," she said.
"It does make a difference. It means you can do these theater tours as a headliner and when you go out this summer you're higher in the pecking order." Which meant she was closer to the topline headliner, which she had to admit was a positive. "I'm still looking at what's out there and who could use a solid female opener." He smiled. "Don't worry. You'll be opening for the big guns before too long."
She was driving to meet her sister for dinner at the Hermitage Hotel. She had called Watty, asking him if he thought she needed a more influential manager but, while she always appreciated his guidance and knew he would always be truthful with her, he frustrated her by telling her things were progressing at a good pace and exactly how they should.
"Watty, I know you feel good about Michael, but I just don't know if he's driven enough," she said.
"What makes you think he's not?"
"I have a record that's gone double platinum in the 16 months since I put it out but I'm still playing bars and clubs and these little small theaters. No big tours as an opener. Shouldn't I be an opener on some important tours?"
Watty chuckled softly. "You will be, my little songbird. But you haven't paid all your dues yet. Yes, you have a powerhouse album and you're on the radio, but that's all you have. You don't have enough of a track record to get on a really big tour, unless someone asks for you. And Edgehill is making sure you're on people's radar screens." He paused for a moment. "I know you're anxious to do everything and you will. You're right on the brink. I promise it won't be long."
She sighed deeply. She knew she wasn't very patient. Having a big record right out of the gate was supposed to really launch her, she thought. It meant she wasn't going to have to toil on the sidelines for long. She was 'the future of country music'. She heard it over and over, but it felt like she was the only one hearing it.
She was running late and, after handing her car off to the valet, she hurried into the restaurant. She spotted Tandy right away and, brushing past the hostess, made her way to the table where her sister was sitting. Tandy stood and they hugged, then kissed each other's cheek before sitting down. Tandy already had a glass of wine and she gazed at it longingly. She was still a little over a year away from being legally able to drink, although in private settings no one stopped her. She asked for a glass of iced tea and then settled into her seat.
"Sorry I'm late," she said.
"No worries," Tandy said with a smile. "You're a big star now, so you have people pulling you in all different directions."
She rolled her eyes. "I don't feel much like a big star. Or a star at all. You'd think with a big selling record that would be true, but apparently in country music you have a lot more dues to pay." She sighed. "It sucks."
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I know that it won't be long before you're at the very top." She laughed. "I would tell you to be patient, but that would be pointless."
She smiled. "Yeah, it would." She leaned a little forward. "So how are wedding plans going?" Tandy was engaged to marry Mac Hampton in a little less than 6 months.
"Well, there's my dress appointment Saturday, which you'll be there for, right?" She nodded. She knew, only because her sister had told her, that Tandy was pushing it a bit to select a dress and have it ready for the wedding day. But she'd be able to throw around the Wyatt name and it would be handled. "You still need to get measured for your dress, but you can do it then. Good news is that we have a wedding planner, who'll make sure we take care of all the tedious stuff when we need to."
She nodded. "Sounds like you have it under control then." The server came back to take their order. When he left, she breathed in deeply, then sighed just as deeply.
Tandy frowned. "What's going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"That deep sigh. Like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."
She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'm just kind of frustrated right now."
"About what?"
She rolled her eyes. "My career." It was like Tandy wasn't listening.
Tandy looked at her like she was crazy. "Rayna, you'll be 20 in just a few weeks. Your first record is selling like crazy. Your second just came out. I hear you on the radio all the time. You're making money. Good money. Aren't you touring again this summer?"
She sighed again, although careful not to make it too dramatic. "I am. Fairs and festivals and maybe for a little while opening for someone, but I thought... well, I don't exactly know what I thought. I guess I thought I'd be doing my own tour by now."
Tandy looked confused. "I thought you were doing a tour."
"Not like in big arenas. Small theaters. And it's just for about 6 weeks or so, before the summer stuff."
"Have you talked to your producer friend about it?"
"Watty?" Tandy nodded. "Yeah. And my manager. And they both tell me that I'm doing just what I should and going in the right direction, but..."
"But what?" Tandy made a short laughing sound. "I don't know the first thing about the music business, but doesn't everyone kind of work up to the big shows and the big tours and the really big money? No one just goes out there and gets that big tour right away, right?"
"I guess not."
"It seems to me it's like any other job. You don't step right in at the top, you work your way up."
She narrowed her eyes a little. "Unless you work for your father."
Tandy did laugh then. "I didn't start at the top. I might have gotten a little preferential treatment up front, but I still had to prove myself. You should know Daddy doesn't suffer fools and poor performers." That was true. Even in school or any competitive activities she or Tandy may have been involved in, their father expected hard work and proving oneself. And success. "If your manager and Watty are telling you you're on the right track I think you should believe them." She smiled. "You've always been the most impatient person I've ever known. You need to slow down for a minute and just breathe. Enjoy this. Enjoy all of it. Don't wish away your life. Live it."
Just then the server arrived with their food and they ended up talking about other things. But her sister's words stayed with her, even into her dreams that night.
She was sitting on one of the stone walls in Percy Warner Park that lined the steps that led up the hill from the entrance. She squinted against the sun and saw him walking towards her. He sat down next to her, his shoulder barely grazing hers. They didn't say anything at first, just sat looking out over the park. Then he looked at her and she was struck by the soulfulness in his eyes.
"You don't have to have it all at once, you know. You don't want to be a flash in the pan. Like a shooting star that burns bright and then is gone."
She nodded. "You're right." She smiled a little. "But why can't I burn bright for years and years?"
He smiled back. "You probably will. But try to enjoy it while it happens."
That was all she remembered the next day when she woke up. She couldn't help but wonder why he was the one she imagined saying it to her.
She was sitting in Michael's office as they went over the details of her summer. "We have your small market tour. 15 dates from mid-May through June. In every market you have radio promotion, and we also have some other radio dates here and there. Oh, and Fan Fair in June. Then it's summer fair and festival time. Telluride, Squaw Valley, Hodag, WE Fest, etc. And all the big state fairs. It'll be busy."
"I'm good with that." She'd opened for Mary Chapin Carpenter on 4 weeks of her early spring tour, which had been her first opportunity to get on a bigger stage. She felt better about how things were moving so she was actually looking forward to the summer.
"Second single from Southside drops next week on radio." She smiled. Southside of Love was doing well, although not quite as well as Cowgirls Love Too Hard, which was still a solid hit. She hoped she'd at least hit platinum on it, otherwise she might be seen as that artist who had a big first album and then nothing else. "And I got you moved up in tier on the fair circuit. You'll be with Luke Wheeler, Jared Boone, Bill Armstrong, some others. On a rotating basis."
She perked up. "Jared Boone?"
Michael looked up at her and a slow grin crossed his face. "Don't tell me you've got a thing for Jared Boone."
She tried not to act giddy. "Of course not. But he's one of the hottest new artists right now, so being on an equal playing field is exciting."
He gave her a long look, then shook his head, still smiling. "Right."
She dressed carefully. She turned this way and that to check herself out in the mirror. Her jeans fit just right, the sleeveless top had the right amount of sparkle. She leaned towards the mirror in her hotel bathroom and checked her makeup, then ran her fingers through her hair, letting it fall in natural waves over her shoulders. Satisfied, she picked up her rings and slid them on her fingers, put her earrings in her ears, and added a cuff bracelet. Then she sat on the bed and slid on her boots. She stood up, then picked up her purse. Then she grabbed her room key and slid it in her back pocket and opened the door, heading out for her bus that would take her to the fairgrounds.
She felt like a real country artist now that she had her own bus. It wasn't as fancy as the buses a big name headliner would have – and that she hoped to have one day – but it made her feel more important. The driver was already on the bus and opened the doors for her.
"Hey there, Rayna," he said with a smile.
"Hey Steve. Am I the first one here?"
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am. You're also early. As always."
She laughed. "I guess that's true." She headed down the aisle, past the small kitchenette, the table, benches and seats, all the way to the back, where the bunks were for her and her band. Another thing she hoped she'd have before too long was her own artist's suite. Not that she minded sleeping in a bunk or that she thought she was more important than anyone else, but it would be nice to have some privacy when they were on a long drive. There were a lot of things on her list for 'someday' – hair and makeup people, a wardrobe person, a bigger band, even enough space to bring others out on the tour with her, like Tandy. Although she wasn't sure Tandy would be up for riding on a bus. She chuckled a little at the thought, as she tossed her purse on her bunk and then made her way back to the front of the bus, sliding into one of the benches at the table as her band members started to get on the bus. Tandy would definitely not be okay with riding a bus.
Deacon
He was settling into Dwight's band and the tour. It turned out not to be as unsatisfying as he thought it might have been. Dwight had good guys in his band, guys he enjoyed performing with, although they were mostly hard partyers, which he was not. He had, however, gotten into the habit of hitting a local bar with his bandmates wherever they stopped and was drinking more than he wanted to. There had been some nights when he'd had too much to drink and after he'd passed out at a bar in Abilene, Texas, he'd had to pull back. It scared him to get to that point and reminded him too much of the life he'd grown up with. The one he'd sworn he'd never take for his own.
He was back in Nashville with a couple days off and he shared the experience with Sam. "When the guys were pulling me out of the bar, I really didn't like how it made me feel. And the hangover the next day sucked," he said.
Sam was making a salad in the tiny kitchen and looked at him strangely. "You've really never been that drunk before?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I told you about growing up. With my dad. What he done. He told me one time that I was gonna grow up to be just like him. But I can't do that, Sam."
"I don't think you will."
"You don't know. It could be in my blood. And it's too easy to drink a few beers or throw down a buncha shots of whiskey."
She looked at him and shrugged. "You just stop when you get to that point where you know the next one's gonna take you over the edge, right?"
He got up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen, leaning against the counter. "It ain't that simple. I just need to... not do it at all, I guess."
"Deacon, we're not our parents. Or in my case, not the sum total of all the crap people who quote unquote raised me. We can be different. Better." She smiled and patted him on the arm. "Don't overthink things. Now, are you hungry?"
He was lying on his bunk in the bus as they were traveling to Denver. It was the middle of the night, and the bus was dark and the other band members were asleep, some snoring, along with the one who always mumbled in his sleep. He usually wasn't bothered by them – and he really wasn't that night – but his mind was wide awake. After the couple of days in Nashville, he was back on the road for 3 weeks. He'd actually been asleep but was woken up by the dream he'd had. A dream about her. The girl at the Bluebird. Rayna Jaymes.
He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Ever since he'd discovered who she was, it was as though she'd taken over his life. Not literally, of course, but in his head. When he was home in Nashville and he'd wake up in the morning, he half expected her to be the woman sleeping next to him instead of Sam. And it wasn't that he was disappointed that Sam was the one who was there, it was just that he'd never been able to get past the feeling that she – Rayna – was the one. That they were meant for each other. When he let himself think about it, he felt it so strongly in his bones that it almost scared him. But she wasn't the woman he was with. And Sam wasn't the woman he thought he'd be with, who he'd say vows with, who he'd raise a family with. And that scared him too.
Rayna Jaymes had haunted his dreams since that night at the Bluebird. Not every night and not always the same way, but it was why he couldn't let it go. He'd had one of those dreams while he'd been home, one where the two of them were passionately making love, all hot and sweaty. Just like the one he'd had that had woken him up on the bus. It was crazy. He knew it was crazy. Plus it made him feel guilty, almost as though he was cheating on Sam.
Samantha Beasley was hard edged. She'd had a tough life growing up, like he had. They were a lot alike in many ways. He loved Sam, even though he recognized that it wasn't what he'd thought love would be like. They'd grown closer over time, learned each other over time. Maybe it hadn't been that bolt of lightning where he knew she was the one, the way he'd thought it would be, but he felt like they matched in most of the ways that mattered. He needed to move past the dreams and focus on reality. His reality.
Sam had finally arranged to take a week off and come out on the road with him. They were in Boise, Idaho and he went to pick her up at the airport. They would get back to the hotel in time to head for the arena for sound check. They would be traveling in an area neither of them had been to, so it seemed like a good opportunity to see another area of the country. It was also their 'honeymoon', they'd decided. The one they'd never taken. So he wanted it to be good for her. He was waiting at the gate when the plane arrived and watched as passengers started to trickle into the gate area. He finally saw Sam. She lifted her hand in a wave and he smiled.
"Hey, hon," she said as she walked up to him and hugged him.
He kissed her. "Hey, baby. How was the flight?"
"Long. I'm exhausted." Her flight had had a long layover and now he wondered if she'd even want to go to the show that night.
He frowned. "Are you sure you're up for going to the show tonight? If you want to just stay at the hotel, I'm okay."
She shook her head. "I'll be fine." She linked her arm through his and smiled. "I'm looking forward to seeing you on stage." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "This is gonna be great."
This had been a good week for Sam to come out, since they were staying in hotels and not having to sleep on buses on an overnight to the next town. They even had a free day in Salt Lake City so they could get out and see the area. She had definitely gotten to see what it was like to live his life and he wondered what she thought. He'd been happy to see her and glad to spend more than just a few days with her. He was focused on her, not on some unattainable dream. Sam was real, standing right in front of him, and she deserved all of him.
They were in Casper, Wyoming, just wrapping up their show that night. As he came off the stage with the rest of the band, she was standing there waiting for him. He pulled her into a hug and kissed her.
"Hey Deke, you coming with us tonight?" Jerry the drummer was walking past and clapped him on the shoulder, stopping to stand in front of them. "You gotta show off your pretty lady at least once." Jerry grinned appreciatively at Sam.
He looked at Sam, wondering if they should. He would have been perfectly fine with heading over to the hotel. "Yes," Sam said. He looked at her and she was smiling at Jerry. "We're definitely coming tonight."
"Great!" Jerry said. "We'll see y'all at Whiskey Tavern." Then he headed off.
He looked at Sam. "You sure you want to do this?"
"Yeah, I'm sure." She looked just slightly miffed. "I want to go out and have some fun." She leaned closer to him. "With you. Is that alright?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess so." He breathed in and then smiled at her. "Let's go to Whiskey Tavern then."
He woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He could barely open his eyes because the light coming in through the window was so bright. He groaned. How much did I drink? He couldn't quite remember. It was a lot though, he thought. He remembered someone brought whiskey shots to the table and it seemed like they kept coming. Sam was as animated as he thought he'd ever seen her. He couldn't recall if she was keeping up on the shots, but she was doing pretty well. There were a lot of women hanging around the group, women he knew weren't anyone's girlfriend or wife. That wasn't unusual. There was music from a jukebox that was loud and that he knew contributed to the headache.
He didn't really dance, but he remembered that there was dancing. And he remembered Sam was on the dance floor dancing with some of the guys from the band and crew and maybe even some guys he didn't recognize. That wasn't unusual for her, but he thought he remembered not being real happy about it. He had a hazy recollection of hearing her laughing and squealing for someone to stop, but not sounding too concerned about it. With great effort he turned his head and then closed his eyes after seeing her next to him, sprawled on her stomach. At least they'd come back to the room together. Or at least he hoped they did.
He tried to push up to a sitting position, but his head was spinning and he laid back down. It wasn't like him to get so drunk that he felt like this. He rarely got drunk at all, at most just a little buzz. Drinking to this point scared him. He'd promised himself the last time it had happened that he wouldn't do it again. And yet he had. It reminded him of his father's gleeful prediction. You're just like me, son. He tried to sit up again. He needed aspirin. And water. He managed to sit on the edge of the bed, but after just seconds, his stomach lurched and he jumped up, making it to the bathroom in time to puke in the toilet. He flushed, then leaned back against the wall, breathing in and out, feeling beads of sweat on his forehead. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing, wondering why he'd let himself get like this.
"Hey." He opened his eyes and looked up to see Sam standing at the bathroom door.
He tried to smile but failed. "Hey."
She stepped over him and went to the sink, grabbing a washcloth and running it under the water, then squeezing the water out. She came back over and sat down next to him, handing him the wet washcloth. He gratefully ran it over his face. "I guess you're not feeling so hot," she said.
He shook his head. "That's a good guess," he said. After a moment he glanced over at her. "How do you feel?"
She made a face and shrugged. "I've felt better but I didn't drink as much as you did."
"How much did I drink?"
"I think you and Mark were the worst. Not sure how many whiskey shots you did, but we had to basically carry y'all out of there."
"Well, I'll tell you right now, that's the last time I do that. I feel like shit. And I don't like that feeling." She got up again and got a cup of water, handing it to him. Then she stepped back over him and out to the room. When she came back, she sat back down and handed him 2 aspirin. He gratefully tossed the aspirin in his mouth and then swallowed the water. "Thanks." He leaned back and closed his eyes.
"Is this how our life's gonna be from now on?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her. "What do you mean?" He ran the washcloth over his face again. "You mean me getting drunk like this? No. It ain't happening again."
"That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean?"
"You on the road like this. Not home much. Is this what it's like to be in the music industry?"
He wondered where she was going with this. "I guess, kinda. Depends on who you're playing for, I guess." He reached for her hand. "Why?"
"It's more time than I thought. I know it's a big deal for you to do this, but I guess I didn't ask enough questions." She slid her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. "I know it's your dream though."
It wasn't exactly his dream, but he knew what she meant. And it was true that getting to play music on bigger stages was still a big deal. But he was sensing she wasn't happy with it. Or maybe just not happy period. "Would you rather I didn't do this?"
"I guess I'm just lonely. Sometimes. I'm all by myself so much of the time."
"If it helps, it ain't all year round."
"That does help." She lifted her head and looked at him. "When you think about the future what do you see?"
"Keep doing what I'm doing, I guess. And maybe get a chance as a solo artist. Get a record deal and have songs on the radio of my own."
She shook her head. "For us."
"Oh." Maybe it was odd, but they'd never planned out more than the near term, had never really talked about that kind of thing. They'd talked a lot about what their individual dreams and plans were, but that was it. And he hadn't really thought about it much. They'd gotten married without really talking about what their future would be, what they hoped marriage would be for them. "Be able to buy a house. Whatever house you want. When I get my big break and you finish college and get a big ass job." She smiled. "Maybe get a dog or something. Have kids. Grow old together." He kissed her forehead. "What about you?"
She sighed. "I like the big house idea. I'd love to have one of those mansions in Belle Meade. I drive through there sometimes, just looking, and they're beautiful." She smiled. "And I'd want a pool in back."
He grinned. "We'd get a pool in back."
She bit her lip. "The family though." She sighed again. "It makes me nervous, Deacon. I had a bad life and I know you've told me about yours. It scares me."
"Well, it don't have to be right now. Why don't we just work on the house first. And maybe the dog. Then we can talk about the rest." He understood her being scared. It scared him too.
"That sounds good." She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it off his face. "You feeling any better?"
"I think I need some coffee."
"Why don't I go get us some coffee and maybe some toast?"
"Sounds great." He watched as she got up and went back in the room. She changed clothes and brushed her hair, then picked up the key card and left. He tried to stand up. He instantly felt dizzy and then hit his knees, puking again. I ain't never drinking again.
He couldn't stop thinking about what Sam had said. I guess I'm just lonely. Sometimes. If he was honest, he really hadn't stopped to consider what it would be like for her when he was out on the road. Sam liked to be out having fun. She liked to dance and laugh and be social. He'd seen it at the Whiskey Tavern. She'd even been a little flirty with the guys, even some who weren't with the band. He hadn't thought about it much at the time, probably because he was busy getting drunk, but now he had to wonder if it was because she was alone so much of the time. Or was she? They'd never talked about it. He didn't know what life was like for her when he was on the road. Now he was starting to wonder though. He needed to finish out this tour and then he knew they would need to talk about it. Figure it out.
It was Saturday night. The last night of the Montana state fair and the last night of Sam's visit. She would fly back to Nashville the next day. He wouldn't be home again for several weeks. They had gone to the fairgrounds early. Dwight was the headliner that night, so it meant he wouldn't go on until 7:30. There would be other performers throughout the afternoon, but there were also other things to do and see at the fair. He'd been to the Mississippi state fair when he was young and remembered the games of chance, the rides, the livestock shows. The family had gone one year and he remembered having fun at first. He couldn't remember how old he and Beverly had been, but they were old enough to ride most of the rides. They'd eaten fair food – hot dogs, funnel cakes, cotton candy – as they'd walked down the fairway and through some of the exhibits. That ended when he'd gotten sick after eating too much and riding one of the rides that made him dizzy. That was when Gideon lost control, screaming at him in the middle of the fairway. They had left soon after and never went again.
He shook off the unpleasant memories as he and Sam walked down the fairway. He played one of the games where he threw rings for a prize and had won her a teddy bear. They ate a corndog and some ice cream before standing in line for the Ferris wheel. As they waited Sam looked up at the ride. It was a tall one and probably had a great view of the entire fairgrounds. "You been on one of these before?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I never got the chance to do this kind of stuff." She sounded kind of wistful and it made him feel bad for her. Being in and out of foster homes meant that she didn't often get the chance to do things other kids did.
He pointed at the top of the wheel. "When we get up there, I bet we can see everything. The mountains too." She sucked in her breath. "It ain't that scary. I promise." She looked at him, then back up, and sighed.
When they finally got into one of the cars, he noticed she was gripping the safety bar tightly. He put his hand over hers, hoping she wouldn't be too nervous. Her grip got tighter as the Ferris wheel slowly moved, fair goers getting into the other cars. Their car swung back and forth, and she was breathing hard. When they reached the top, she had slid over so that she was tight against him. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she seemed to relax a little. "This is pretty amazing, ain't it?" he asked. It was a warm, but not hot, day with blue skies and few clouds. They could see the fairgrounds, the city, and the mountains beyond.
"Yeah," she said, her voice tight. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. Once the ride was filled and started moving, she seemed to relax a little more and by the end, she was actually smiling. When they got off, she grinned at him. "That was fun. I don't want to do it again though."
He laughed. "We don't have to." They walked over to a carousel, one of the old fashioned kind with elaborately crafted and painted horses. It was ornate with lots of lights, which probably looked better at night when it was dark enough for the lights to show up. Sam picked out a white horse with a dark mane and tail and a golden brown saddle. He sat on the one next to hers, although about a step behind, a non-descript gray horse with black mane and tail. As the carousel picked up speed, he watched her. Her long blonde hair wafted behind her as the breeze generated by the speed of the carousel lifted it. She wasn't looking at him, but he could see the look on her face, and he saw something there he didn't understand. There was a sadness about her. Several times she leaned back very slightly with her eyes closed. There was a lot about Sam that was hidden, things she didn't talk about. She had told him enough – terrible, frightening experiences – but he knew there were demons that chased her, much like the demons that chased him. Maybe it was why they'd gravitated to each other.
When they got off the carousel and headed back to the midway, she saw a flyer posted to the side of one of the game of chance stalls, pointing at it. "There you are, on the list of performers," she said, as they stopped in front of it.
He chuckled. "Well, not me, but yeah, there's Dwight." Then he saw it. It listed all the performers for each of the 4 nights of shows. Both the Friday and Saturday night performances were country artists, with Dwight as the Saturday headliner and Travis Tritt as the Friday headliner. But there was her name. Rayna Jaymes. Friday night. He couldn't describe the feeling in his chest. His heart was beating faster and there was a low buzz in his ears. She'd been there. He glanced around quickly, but knew she probably wasn't still there. If she was on the fair circuit, she was likely at the next stop already. They were like ships passing in the night.
He couldn't stop thinking about her, the rest of the afternoon and then on stage. He knew he was distracted. Sam seemed to be as well, so she didn't seem to notice, but Dwight's bandleader glanced at him more than once during their set, enough to know he'd missed a chord or a transition. That night he'd had a dream where he and Rayna were literally passing each other but couldn't seem to find their way back. When he woke up the next morning, he felt distracted, unfocused.
He would be heading out with the band to their next stop. Sam would be taking a cab to the airport for another long day filled with layovers and plane changes. As they walked to the lobby for the breakfast service, she turned to him and said, "Who's Ray?"
He took a deep breath. He'd called out to Rayna in his dream, inexplicably calling her 'Ray'. He remembered that, although he had no idea why he'd shortened her name like that. He swallowed and tried to smile. "No idea," he said. "Must be some dream I don't remember." She seemed to accept that.
He couldn't get it out of his head though. As he sat on the bus later and watched the scenery roll past, he knew he needed to put that fantasy out of his mind once and for all.