Something I Need (xoxo Nashville Book 1) (2 page)

“Hello, you.”

Dolly leaned over the bar, kissed him on the cheek, shot him a what-on-earth-is-going-on look, and slid onto the stool next to Jonte.

Yeah, yeah. It was definitely not his MO to be chatting to some random chick. He was the king of small talk, never sticking around for anything more. 

“So, who’s your friend?” Dolly nodded at Jonte and stole one of her fries.

J
onte was intrigued
by the crazy caricature of a woman who’d burst off the page and into the seat beside her. She had catwalk cheekbones, accentuated by a blonde pixie haircut with pink tips, and perfectly plucked eyebrows. Her hot-pink dress looked 80s retro, and Jonte had a front row view of the full sleeve tattoo running down the woman’s left arm. It was both beautiful and unusual. A blue sparrow took pride of place on her bicep, surrounded by cherry blossoms. Jonte counted one, two, three, four pretty butterflies interwoven in the design.

“This is out-of-luck Jonte.” Cash’s deep drawl wrapped around her name, sending tingles to her tummy she was determined to ignore. “She’s an Aussie.”

“Well, howdy!” Dolly grinned like they were long lost besties.

“Hi.” Jonte smiled back, suddenly missing Mimi, her actual bestie from back home, and took a gulp of her beer.

“I’m Cash’s twin, Dolly.”

Jonte choked on her drink, somehow stopping herself from spitting the beer and her surprise all over the bar.

“All right there, sweetheart?” Cash bobbed down to her eye level.

“Your names are Cash and Dolly?”

“You didn’t introduce yourself?” Dolly’s voice was deep fried in Southern twang, equal parts disbelief and bless-your-heart.

“I was gettin’ there.”

“Sure you were.” Dolly shook her head and pinched another fry. “Sorry, darlin’. I’m stealing what’s left of ya food.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t order them. Your brother thought I looked hungry.”

“Really?” Dolly looked at Cash again, who had taken to wiping down the bar.

“Clearly I was right, seeing as you scarfed those down in ten minutes.”

He had been right. She’d been so caught up in her little pity party she hadn’t realized how famished she was. But she chose to ignore his comment, desperate to know more about their names, because, come on, Cash and Dolly? That was a flashing-neon-look-at-me-look-at-me-sign that demanded attention.

“So let me get this straight.” Jonte pointed her fry at Cash. “Your name’s Cash, but you hate country music?”

“Not like I named myself now, is it?”

“Our momma liked classic country.” Dolly swatted Cash across the head. “Don’t be so rude. And get Pete to make us some real dinner, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cash mock saluted his sister and left.

“So what brings ya to Nashville, out-of-luck Jonte?”

Jonte re-told the horror story that had been the last thirty odd hours of her life. As she finished, Cash dropped two plates filled with oversized hamburgers and salad in front of them.

“Shit. Hope you’re not a vegetarian.”

“No. But thank you for the food,” Jonte said.

“Good.” Dolly smiled like she was pleased by her reply, although Jonte couldn’t figure out how a
no
or a
thank you
could make anyone happy. Too tired to care, she dove into her burger.

“Mmmmm, thisss ess awshome,” Jonte said with a mouthful of food.

“So, why don’t you crash upstairs with me tonight, you little runaway?” Dolly offered when their plates were empty and their bellies full. “Well, obviously not
with
me. You can sleep on my sofa.”

“No, I couldn’t. You’ve already been too kind. Surely there’s a hotel or something nearby?”

“It’s a pull-out with a brand new innerspring mattress,” Dolly practically sang.

“I’d offer up the guest room at our grandparents’ ranch, but it’s a fair drive from here. Dolly’s gotta work tomorrow, but I could help you look for a new apartment in the morning.” Cash wiped down the already clean bar, his eyes glued to the dark wood.

“Why are you offering to help me?” Jonte stared dumbfounded at the twins, thrown by their acts of goodwill and generosity. People weren’t like this back home. “Neither of you even know me.”

“You seem like a good person in a bit of a tight spot,” Cash said, as if his offer was no big deal and something anyone would do.

“He has a martyr complex.” Dolly shook her head before chugging the rest of her beer.

“You like to be the knight on the white horse?”

“No. I like to help people.” Cash shot his sister what Jonte assumed was a you’re-in-so-much-trouble-later glare and continued on his I-need-to-clean-this-spot-right-here mission. Seriously, was the man OCD or something?

“He actually owns a white horse,” Dolly said with a snort and a wink in Jonte’s direction. “Come on, you’d better make up ya mind before your cabbie friend arrives.”

“Thanks so much for the offer, but I can’t.”

I can’t stay with these random strangers
, she thought, her whole mugged and murdered scenario running through her mind. What if they stole her stuff? Held her hostage? Forced her to be their slave?

Ugh. This was a new level of crazy, even for her. Sleep. She needed sleep. Lots and lots of it.

Jonte reached down to grab her bags. She pulled a twenty out of her purse and put it down on the bar.

“Don’t worry about it.” Cash handed it back to her.

“Here, take this.” Dolly thrust a business card into her hand
.
Jonte read the tasteful cursive script:
Love it Forever
. “Just in case. Call me if you need anything.”

“There’s a Best Western a few doors up on the right,” Cash said. “Good luck, Jonte.”

“Thanks for dinner and the beers,” Jonte called over her shoulder, making her way toward the door.

“Come see us tomorrow night. I’ll buy ya a drink.” Dolly waved, her voice laced with hope that didn’t match the glint in her eyes.

Outside on the bustling street, Jonte was suddenly nervous to have left the twins who had been insanely nice to her. She definitely would have felt more comfortable if her phone was working. Why had she stayed so long at the bar when she should have been finding accommodation for the night?

Damn it!
She could have asked to borrow one of the twins’ phones to check in with Mimi to let her know she’d arrived.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The fatigue of traveling started to catch up with her. Jonte focused on the bright lights ahead, and power walked along the footpath. She let out a breath of relief when she spied the illuminated oversized sign outside the Best Western Plus Music Row. It was a big white building, five stories high.

Inside, Jonte was greeted by a spacious foyer with musical instrument stickers placed whimsically at eye-level behind the reception desk. There was a quaint waiting area decked out for guest comfort, with curved leather sofas and thick Persian rugs set up around a wooden coffee table and facing a large flat-screen television.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” asked the suited-up woman behind the desk.

“Yes, I need a room please.” Jonte looked up and read the woman’s name off her silver badge – Hannah.

“Do you have a booking, ma’am?”

“No, I don’t.” Jonte shook her head and bit down on her bottom lip, nerves (or maybe the two beers) skittering away in her tummy.

Please have a room.

The woman, Hannah, typed away on the computer in front of her and then looked back up at Jonte. “How long are you staying?”

“Just one night.” Surely she could arrange something else more permanent tomorrow?

“That’ll be $257 please, ma’am. How would you like to pay? Cash or card?”

Holy crap balls! Jonte tried not to balk – $257, was she serious? That was more than her weekly rent at Misha’s was supposed to be. But she was exhausted and out of options. Jonte pulled out her debit card and handed it over. Wow. At this rate she’d be out of money within a month.

“Check-out is at ten a.m.” Hannah swiped Jonte’s card and handed it back to her. “There’s a complimentary breakfast served from six a.m.”

“Thanks.” Jonte took her card and stuffed it back into her purse.
Complimentary, my ass.

“You’re in room 401. Enjoy your stay at Music Row.” Hannah smiled like she’d rather not, and passed Jonte a room card.

“Do you have internet here?”

“Of course.”

“My phone doesn’t seem to be working. Is there a computer I can use?”

“Just through there.” Hannah pointed at a set of double glass doors.

“Excellent, thanks.”

Jonte crossed the foyer and hit the button for the elevator. Right now she needed to crash. She’d sort everything else out in the morning.

Room 401 was dominated by a king-sized bed covered with a gold comforter. Jonte dumped her two bags on the dark wooden dresser, turned on one of the bedside lamps, killed the overhead light, and then kicked off her thongs and shorts.

Shower or sleep?

Shower or sleep?

Definitely sleep.

Jonte wrapped herself up in the blankets and fell asleep.

J
onte rolled over and stretched
. Damn this bed was the best. Soft and warm and
mmmm
…

Just five more minutes and then she’d get up. Yeah, five more.

RING. RING. RING. RING. RING.

Ugh. Make it stop.

Jonte groaned and rolled over, hoping it would go away. It didn’t.

RING. RING. RING. RING. RING.

Oh. It was the phone. Right.

“Yes,” she said, answering it.

“Good morning ma’am. It’s after eleven and I just needed to confirm you’re extending your booking for another night.

Eleven?

“Oh, sorry, I must have overslept.” Jonte kneaded her head. With an inbuilt body clock that woke her up at six a.m. without fail, she’d never overslept like this. Except for today. “I’ll just have a quick shower and then I’ll head straight downstairs to check out.”

“Ma’am, I’m afraid you need to check out immediately if you won’t be staying another night. Housekeeping has to clean the room.”

“But I’ll be really quick. You see, I got off an international flight last night and then I arrived at the apartment I was –”

“Ma’am, if you’re not downstairs in five minutes, I’ll have to charge your card for another night.”

“No. Please don’t. I’m coming now.”

Five minutes later, Jonte stepped into the street, confident that she looked, and no doubt smelled, like a damn homeless person. She stumbled away from the half-empty car park with no
complimentary
breakfast, no internet or phone connection, and no idea of what on earth she was going to do next.

Less than one hundred meters down the road, she realized that she needed to pee, desperately. She attempted to smooth down her hair and ducked into the first café she saw.

“Can I use your restroom?” She threw her best smile at the hipster-looking guy behind the counter.

“Customers only.” He shrugged indifferently, as if he didn’t have the ability to let her use the damn toilets. Ugh, another asshat on a power trip. Yay!

“I’ll take a large vanilla chai latte.” Jonte whacked a twenty down on the counter. “And one of those fruit and bran breakfast muffins,” she added, pointing at the display counter.

“Follow the signs.” The guy nodded at the restroom sign on the back wall and grabbed for the twenty.

Jonte locked herself in one of the toilets and set about changing into some clean clothes at breakneck speed, thankful for the baby wipes she’d packed into her duffel bag. She used them to freshen up as best as she could in the tiny stall. Once she was done, she piled her hair up into a messy bun and brushed her fuzzy teeth.

When she returned to the front counter, her latte and muffin were waiting for her.

“Do you have my change?”

The hipster eyed her several times before retrieving a ten-dollar bill and a few coins out of the cash register and handing it to her. She couldn’t believe she’d even had to ask. Wow. What was wrong with people today?

“Thanks. Do you know if there are any internet cafés around here?”

“You do realize what year it is, right? We have free Wi-Fi.” He looked at her like she was an imbecile, pushed back the sleeves on his open button-down shirt, and pointed to a small sign next to the cash register.

“Right. But my phone’s not working.”

She’d forgotten to charge the dead-piece-of-crap-brick last night.

“Oh, that sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” she agreed, realizing he wasn’t about to offer up any more help.

Jonte grabbed her breakfast, which was really more like lunch now, and retreated to a small table next to the window. After the insanity of the last thirty minutes, she decided to take her time and allow herself to enjoy her food and the fact that she was here, in Nashville, where she’d always dreamed of being.

Before leaving the café, she made sure to pop back into the restrooms so she wouldn’t have to pay for the privilege again anytime soon. It was almost an hour later when she resumed walking, although she had no clear plan of where she was going. She passed the now closed Rock on Nashville and wondered whether her day would have been this disastrous if she’d just gone home with Dolly for the night or if Misha hadn’t given away her room.

Don’t dwell. Stay positive. Move forward. You’ve got this.

She quickly walked away, a new plan was forming in her head. She would find a convenience store to buy a new SIM card for her phone, on the off chance it might work, and an ATM, to make sure Misha had returned her deposit money.

A
pparently you don’t buy
SIM cards in the US. Why, why, why wasn’t her stupid phone working? It was infuriating, especially considering she’d confirmed everything with her provider before leaving Australia. Ugh. Should she just give in and buy a cheap pre-paid phone now? No, she needed to save money and would only do that if she couldn’t get her phone fixed.

Right now, her biggest problem was her bank balance. She’d scrimped and saved $10,000 for this trip, and Misha had clearly not returned Jonte’s two grand deposit.

Jonte’s sense of self-control shattered. Was anything ever going to go right for her? She snapped the innocuous receipt out of the ATM and stormed off up the road.

She was beyond fuming, and not to mention a little sweaty, by the time she arrived at Misha’s door. There was no polite knock on the door today. No, today she pounded like a woman possessed, not caring whether she knocked the damn thing off its hinges.

“What?” Misha swung the door open. “Oh, hello. It’s you.”

“You didn’t put the money back in my account.” Jonte waved the small ATM receipt in the air, all up in Misha’s face.

“Pardon? I most certainly did.” Misha was icy now, her hands on her hips and her eyes shooting daggers in Jonte’s direction.

“Well, it’s not there.”

Misha disappeared into the apartment, leaving the door wide open.

“Here.” Scowling, she shoved a piece of paper at Jonte.

Jonte scanned it.
Shit
. It was a printout, confirming the transfer of money out of Misha’s account and into Jonte’s.

“I’m…I…I’m sorry.” Jonte tripped over the words, humiliation clogging her throat. “It…it mustn’t have hit my account yet.” She sheepishly handed the paper back to Misha.

“You don’t say?”

“I don’t suppose last night’s offer of crashing on your couch still stands?”

“No!” Misha slammed the door in Jonte’s face.

Yeah, I deserved that.

Jonte headed for the stairs, wanting nothing more than to curl up into the fetal position and stay that way forever. Or at least for a few hours. Less than twenty-four hours in Nashville and this trip was a complete fiasco.

* * *

C
ash was
busy clearing plates and glasses from the polished wooden bench, which sat underneath the open accordion windows. The late afternoon sun was moving on, and so had many of his patrons.

A whistling walker caught Cash’s attention and he looked up. Cash nodded his head politely at the pedestrian and was about to return to the bar, his arms now fully loaded, when he froze.

Christ. Across the road, looking like she was about to burst into tears any second now, was Little Miss Drama from last night. Jonte. The Aussie Dolly had gone on and on about, certain they’d see her again. Man, he hated it when Dolly was right.

It would be an outright lie if Cash said he hadn’t thought of Jonte since last night. He had. A lot. There was just something about her. It was weird because women never got under his skin.

Last night he’d hoped she’d make it here in Nashville, for her sake. But from the looks of it right now, he was confident her luck had not improved.

She wasn’t his problem. There were four people in the world he gave a damn about, and that Aussie wannabe country star was definitely not on the list.

But Cash hated seeing someone suffer almost as much as he hated country music. His nannie was a virtuous woman and, in raising him, had made him too compassionate for his own good. Only six months back, he’d helped one of his regulars, Benny, a despondent alcoholic in desperate need of rehabilitation, get a job working for his nannie and pop. But that had been a win-win situation, seeing as Pop was getting older and needed a hand running the ranch.

Right now, all he had to do was turn around and no one would be the wiser. Life would continue, and the Aussie would either find her way or return home. At some point in the future, Dolly might whimsically muse about whatever happened to that Aussie, and that would be that.

All done.

The end.

Finito.

“Jonte!” he called out, surprising himself as her name left his lips.

Shit!

His stomach clenched. Regret wound its way up from his belly and wrapped around his heart, attempting to stop it. Damn it. What in the hell was he doing?

Jonte looked up from the pavement she’d been glaring at like it had killed her pet fish or something, and their eyes connected. Her scowl softened, and recognition was followed by what appeared to be relief flooding her body.

Cash’s own regret dissipated with that one look. He dumped the plates and glasses back on the bench and motioned for her to cross the street.

“Hey.” She smiled now, stepping up onto the pavement and walking towards his open window.

“Hi.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Everything okay?”

“No, not really.” She bit down hard on her bottom lip and shook her head.

“Another bad day?”

“Yeah.”

“Want a beer?”

Jeez. Shut your mouth. Let her keep walking!

She scanned the street, obviously wavering over whether to come in, and then finally looked back at him. “Sure.”

Jonte made her way to the propped open glass door while Cash scooped up the dishes again and wandered into the kitchen. By the time he returned, she was sitting on the same stool as last night.

“I’m having a weird case of déjà vu.”

Ditto
. Cash sensed her heart wasn’t in her joke. Last night she’d carried a carefree essence, despite her bad luck, but it had definitely dimmed. This town was not kind to newcomers, especially foreign ones. At this rate, all the determination he’d seen last night would be gone in no time.

Cash poured her a beer and tried not to think about why he cared. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough introduction to Nashville.”

“Nashville definitely does not love me.” She pursed her lips together and pouted.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not this time. This afternoon, I’m just gonna sit here, drink my beer, and lick my metaphorical wounds.”

Cash let out a low chuckle. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I hate to ask, but do you have a phone I can I use? I still can’t get mine to work and I should probably call my parents.”

“You haven’t spoken to them since you arrived?”

She shook her head and flushed. Cash remembered Dolly’s throw-away comment from last night about her having run away. He didn’t think she had actually run away, but guessed her parents were beside themselves. Normal parents cared about their children – not that he had much experience with that.

“Come with me.” He led her towards the door down the other end of the bar, marked
employees only,
and held it open. “Excuse the mess.” He gestured for her to take a seat on one of the two padded chairs opposite his own high-backed leather one. She didn’t need to be over on that side of the desk, and he didn’t want her rifling through his stuff. Not that there was anything particularly sensitive on the desk. The point was, he still had some common sense and it was screaming at him to be smart because he didn’t know this woman.

Cash handed Jonte the cordless phone.

“You’re a lifesaver.” She took the phone and smiled up at him like he’d just lifted a million pounds off her shoulders.

“I’ll give you some privacy and wait out there.” He retreated, shutting the door behind him.

Well, the door was essentially shut. He’d left it open, just a little crack, and may have been standing on the other side. He rationalized that there were thousands of dollars in the safe and keys and all sorts of things in the office, but the truth was he was curious about the Aussie.

Jonte let out a deep sigh from inside the office. It was a good thing the jukebox wasn’t cranked up too loud yet. He scanned the bar, making sure that the few patrons here were comfortable and Pete was still busy in the kitchen.

“Hi, Daddy.” Jonte’s voice was cheerier than it had been just before. “Dad, I’m fine.” Her voice spiked on the last word. Total lie. “I’m so sorry for not calling you earlier, but my phone wouldn’t work.”

There was a lull and then Jonte spoke again. “I’m sorry Mum’s upset. I didn’t do this to hurt either of you. I did this for me.”

The short breaks in conversation continued. “No, I’m not coming home.”

Cash felt shitty for listening, but it was like rubberneckers at a car crash – he couldn’t make himself pull away.

“I don’t care if she’s changed her mind about things now. That’s very convenient, don’t you think?”

What was the story was with Jonte’s mom?