Good Time Bad Boy (19 page)

The realization hit her hard but all she could do was stand there frozen.

“See you around, Daisy.” Wade rushed from the front steps and hurried back to his truck.

Daisy watched him go, everything she didn’t know how to say stuck in her throat.

W
ade woke up in his truck with a bottle clutched in one hand like a teddy bear, not sure whose driveway he’d parked in. He rubbed his face and peered out the window. A sheriff’s department cruiser sat under the detached parking shell, next to a black Dodge Challenger that looked new. Chris. He was at his brother’s house. Wade supposed there might have been worse places but he couldn’t think of any right then. With the vicious pounding in his head, he couldn’t think of much of anything at all.

His mouth tasted of last night’s whiskey, with an undercurrent of failure and a top note of road rash. He twisted the cap on the bottle open and tipped the bottle to his lips. The fresh liquor burned away some of the worst of the taste but did nothing to help the dryness in his mouth and throat. He let the bottle roll to the floorboard and grabbed the wheel to pull himself up straighter. That put the sun directly in his line of sight, the blinding rays carving out chunks of his skull and setting the half pickled brain underneath on fire. Swearing, he shut his eyes and flailed with the sun visor while patting his other hand around in a search for his sunglasses. Somehow he managed to honk the horn in the process. The high pitched bleat finished off what was left of his brain cells. He found his sunglasses, put them on, and lay down across the bench seat, waiting to die or to fall into a hole or, God, anything.

The truck windows were rolled down. He realized this when he heard the front door of the house open. Good. Maybe Chris would shoot him and put him out of his misery.

A shadow fell across Wade. He closed his eyes before the shadow could become a person.

“What are you doing, Wade?”

Wade coughed. “Uh.”

Chris said, “Is that an open container? Shit, did you drive drunk?”

“I got here before I was too drunk,” Wade rasped. “How did you not hear my truck? You sleep like the dead.”

“I have a sound machine in my bedroom that plays rain noise. It helps me rest.”

“Jesus fuck, that’s precious, junior. Just precious.”

The door opened and a hand stronger than Wade expected dragged up him. “You’re an asshole. What are you doing here?”

Wade sagged against the seat and pushed his sunglasses up. “Ah, you know how it is. Sometimes you just don’t feel like the world is shitting on you enough so you just gotta get someone else to add a little more. I thought you’d be a good candidate for that.”

Chris stared at him. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re drunk in my yard at six o’clock on a Sunday morning. Something happened.”

“I’m not drunk, I’m hung over.”

“Man, I thought you were giving this shit up.”

“Now why would I do that? Being a drunk, asshole, good for nothing, washed up singer who can’t write songs anymore is about all I’m good for.”

“That’s self-pity talking.”

“Good for a god damn summer fling but that’s it, because I’m just a walking god damn stereotype of a loser who can’t get his shit together.” He’d said too much so he shut up. That place in his chest that had been aching all night started to hurt again. He leaned down to the floorboard and retrieved the bottle.

“Something happen with you and Daisy?”

Jesus Christ, junior sounded sympathetic. If that didn’t make Wade want to jump off a bridge right into Kentucky Lake, nothing would. “There is no me and Daisy.” But there was a bottle, with just enough booze left in the bottom. He tipped it up.

Chris yanked it away from him. “What did you do to her?”

“Fuck you, junior. I didn’t do a god damn thing to her. Give me my fucking bottle back.”

Chris turned it upside down. The last two inches of amber liquid poured out on the ground. “You’re telling me she broke up with you?”

“There was no break up, because we weren’t together. Not really. I figured you’d be glad of this.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I know you like her because she’s Megan’s friend. Now there’s no chance of me hurting her.”

“No, but it looks like she hurt the hell out of you. Do you want to come in or do you want me to drive you home?”

“Don’t be nice to me, junior. It doesn’t suit you.”

Chris walked around to the driver’s side, reached in the window, and took the keys out of the ignition. “I’m gonna get my wallet and lock up. Be right back.”

Wade leaned his head back against the seat. Chris being sympathetic, driving him home – this had to be a personal nadir. Wade must have really done a number on himself this time if his youngest brother felt bad for him.

They didn’t speak on the way to Wade’s house. Getting out of the truck was an introduction to several new layers of pain, as his stiff body protested having been passed out in the truck for hours. Wade knew he needed a shower and coffee and to conjure some kind of miracle to be presentable in time for church with their parents. Instead, he collapsed on his bed and let sleep take him out of his head.

***

M
onday afternoons were slow at Rocky Top. Daisy took advantage of it to go over the books. Randy was gone on another fishing trip and Josh had screwed up the receipts again. Some were left out completely, while some were entered twice. She took a stack of receipts and bills to a table in the corner away from customers, along with Randy’s laptop. It had taken her months to convince him to switch from a paper ledger to accounting software. He still didn’t really know how to use it, but he could read the reports she printed off with no problem.

Now if she could just get him to keep Josh away from the business side of things. Josh was fine at greeting people, shooting the bull and chatting with the diners. He could even bus a table halfway decent if pressured. But he did not have a head for business at all. Randy wasn’t getting any younger, either. Daisy didn’t know what was going to happen when Randy got too old, or if he just decided to retire for real. Rocky Top was practically an institution in Brittain. It was impossible to imagine the bar not being open and right in the center of things.

A poster advertising the latest example of that hung behind her. Randy was closing the bar Saturday night and exhorting his patrons to attend a benefit concert at the county fairgrounds. A volunteer firefighter for one of the outlying communities was badly hurt when the roof of a burning house suddenly caved in on him. He was now home from the Nashville hospital where he’d spent weeks with a broken back and other injuries, but it would be months if not a year or more before he could work again. His wife had a job but they had two kids, a mortgage, and now huge medical bills. The benefit was to raise money for him and his family. Randy had championed the event as soon as people started talking about doing something to help the firefighter.

And of course he’d gotten Wade to agree to perform. He was set to play with a local group known for their versatility. Wade’s face was the biggest image on the poster. As she sat there working, she couldn’t help but feel like he was peering over her shoulder. Staring at her with that same bewildered hurt in his eyes as the last time she’d seen him.

The bell above the door jingled. Daisy looked up to see her sister searching the room for her. “Over here, Dee.”

“Hey, girl.” Deanna walked over and took the opposite chair. “That doesn’t look like any fun at all.”

“For real. What’s up? Hey, you want anything? I can go put the order in for you.”

Deanna pointed at the slips of paper and the laptop. “How about you take a break from that and we split a big order of fries and a couple cokes?”

“Sounds good.” Daisy saved her work and closed the laptop and set everything to one side. A few minutes later she returned with a plate full of fries and their sodas. They did this every once in a while. It was a ritual leftover from childhood, one that Daisy actually liked. They’d snack and talk and catch up, and it was always good. This time she had a feeling it might not be so much fun. “So what’s up? I hadn’t talked to you in a while.”

Deanna picked up a ketchup bottle and poured two mounds on the sides of the plate. “I’ve had some overtime lately. That’s kept me busy.”

“That’s good, though. The money, I mean.”

“God, yes. Hayley’s already looking at homecoming and prom dresses.” Deanna’s daughter Hayley was going to be a junior in the next school year.

“Don’t let her get talked into going to a salon for hair and makeup. We can do that. Megan will do her nails. We’ll get that girl the works.”

Deanna finished a fry before answering. “She’d like that, especially Megan doing her nails. She likes nail art but neither one of us has a steady enough hand to do it. How’s Mr. Hollister, by the way? Is it true about him having Alzheimer’s?”

They talked about Megan’s dad for a while, and how Megan was handling it. Daisy could feel the tidal pull of the conversation leading to their own mother. Finally it happened.

“Momma came to see me yesterday,” Deanna said.

Daisy said nothing.

“She told me the stuff she said, and what you said. I don’t blame you for kicking her out. She went too far. She may even realize it this time.”

“That would be a first.”

Deanna wiped her hands on a paper napkin and reached for Daisy. “I wish so hard that I could do something for the two of you. Make her understand. I tried. I’ve tried before, and it never works.”

“I know. She’s always going to hate me.” Daisy pulled her hand away and looked out the window.

“She doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t understand the decision you made. I think she’s got a lot of guilt that she doesn’t know how to deal with, about the way we grew up. She loves Hayley. She loves Donny’s kids. I think maybe she sees her grandkids as a second chance, to make up for being such a lousy mother to us.”

Daisy looked at her sister. “You were more of a mother to me than she was.”

“Believe me, I’ve had my own fights with her about that. About being put in that position while I was still a child myself. You know how she handles that?”

Daisy shook her head.

“By turning her attention to Hayley. I don’t think she’s capable of admitting her mistakes, not really. All the bible lessons and AA meetings in the world aren’t going to make her admit what kind of mother she was.”

“You know what I don’t get? How can you and Donny be okay with that?”

“Who said I was okay with it? Look, Hayley’s father never wanted anything to do with her. Neither did his parents. You know that. Alice is her only grandparent. As for Donny, hell.” Deanna shook her head as she moved some fries around on the plate. “It’s not the same for him. Or maybe he just hides it better, I don’t know. It sucks for us, but the truth is she’s way better at being a grandma than she ever was as a mother.”

Daisy considered that. Alice was good with the kids, that much was true. And fair or not, it did rankle that she put forth more effort for her grandkids than she ever had for her own children. If Daisy had chosen to keep her child, would she be more willing to overlook their mother’s faults like Deanna and Donny? That was a question she’d never be able to answer.

“Sometimes I think she blames herself,” Deanna said.

“What do you mean?”

“For the decision you made. She knows she was a lousy mother but she still loved us. She doesn’t understand how you could have.” Deanna stopped. An awkward silence hung between them. “I was sixteen when I had Hayley. It’s never been easy but I did it. I mean, I’m doing it.”

“You think I took the easy way out.” It cut deep to think that Deanna felt that way. They’d never talked about it much, but she’d never judged Daisy, never sided with their mother when Alice went off the deep end about the adoption.

“There was nothing easy about what you did.” Deanna took Daisy’s hand in hers. “We made different decisions. That doesn’t mean either one of us was wrong.”

Daisy squeezed her sister’s hand as relief flooded through her. “If we could just convince Momma of that.”

“I’m still working on her. She’s held on to this for way too long, she’s got to let it go. For both your sakes.” Deanna was silent for a long moment. “I don’t think she’d want you to know this but I’m telling you anyway. She has a real hard time around the...around the little girl’s birthday. It was real bad this year. She drank.”

“Jesus.” Daisy covered her face with her hands.

“Yeah, it was bad for a couple days. She stayed with me and Hayley because she was afraid to be alone. Afraid she’d drink again.”

“I’m really sorry she’s backsliding but that’s not my fault. There’s no reason for her to be so fucking hateful to me. She’s the one who can’t keep it together.”

“I know, honey, I know. I think you had the right idea. Y’all need to stay away from each for a little while.” Deanna leaned closer. “But not permanently. Let me keep working on her. Don’t give up on her, Daisy.”

“I don’t want to give up on her, but I can’t handle her dumping her shit all over me once a year like this. It’s not the easiest time for me, either.” Daisy hated to admit that because it felt like regret, like she doubted the rightness of her decision. But it would have felt dishonest to pretend it hadn’t left a mark on her.

Deanna took her phone out and checked the time. “I gotta go, it’s time to pick up Hayley.” She gathered her purse and stood, then pointed at the poster behind Daisy. “She wants me to take her to that benefit. I think she wants to meet your country singer.”

Daisy dropped her gaze to the table. “He’s not my country singer.” She felt her sister staring a hole through her.

“Do I need to come over and bring ice cream?”

“Nope.” Daisy raised her head and smiled. “But you do need to get out of here. I’ve got work to do.”

It was a struggle to get through the bookkeeping though, and not just because of the mess Josh had made of it. Daisy wasn’t sure what was worse, or more distracting: thoughts of her mother, or thoughts of Wade.