Good Time Bad Boy (32 page)

But first he had to figure out what he wanted, so she asked him again.

“I don’t know, Daisy. Right now, I just don’t know.”

S
ummer slipped away, it’s passing barely noticed at first as the heat lingered. The night air took on a different taste and the tempo of life changed as students returned to school. Daisy briefly considered loading up her schedule with courses, even if she had to use her credit card to pay for them, just to have an excuse to avoid Wade. Ultimately she decided against that. The end would likely come soon enough; she had no desire to hasten it. The money she’d saved over the summer allowed for three classes thanks to the exceptional tips. She registered for two: a business class and an electable - History of American Music.

Megan looked over the print-out of the book list. “Hey, I’ve heard of this one guy. Peter Guralnick. I’ve seen his books in the library.”

“Yeah, that one looks like a keeper.” Most of the time Daisy resold her textbooks.

“What’s Wade think of you taking this class?”

“I haven’t told him yet.” Daisy hit the button on the blender and let it break up the conversation. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about Wade. Once finished, she poured the margaritas and carried them to the couch, handing one to Megan.

Megan let the book list hit the floor and sipped her drink. “Mm, good. Thank you.”

“How’s your daddy?”

“Depressed.” Megan took another sip. “He tries not to show it but I live with him, I can see it. The doctor says it’s normal, kind of like going through a mourning period. We’re going to try exercises and therapy first, and if that doesn’t help, then maybe medication. If Daddy will take it. High blood pressure pills are one thing but something like this, he’s going to fight it.” Her pinched face and flat tone of voice was worrisome.

“What about you? How are you handling it?”

“I stay on top of things. His appointment schedule, his meds, the bills, the house. My job. I’m handling it.” Megan swirled the green slush in her glass. “I heard Wade’s going to Nashville to meet with some record company people.”

“Chris tell you that?” Daisy knew they’d been seeing each other, taking things slow. They were still more friends than anything else, but they were definitely headed for more.

“He’s worried his brother’s about to make a big mistake.”

“And what mistake would that be? Passing up a new record deal?”

“No, walking away from you for a record deal. Is Wade dumb enough to do that?”

“It’s not dumb if it’s what he wants. Would it be dumb for me to stay here instead of follow him to Nashville? Be the little woman who stays home while he goes on tour?”

“I know you don’t want the long distance thing. Why not go on tour with him?”

“You know the answer to that.” If anybody did, it was Megan. She knew in great detail all the reasons Daisy had for needing stability in her life.

Megan let it drop. “You working tonight?”

“Yeah. Wade’s going to come by before he leaves. He’s got an early meeting with his manager and some other people, so he’s driving to Nashville tonight.”

“Now I know why we’re having margaritas for lunch.”

“I was all out of fuck-it-all pills but I make it a point to never run out of tequila.”

Megan raised her glass in salute. “Hear, hear.”

Hours later Daisy walked into Rocky Top and made a snap decision as she tied on her apron. She went to Randy’s office and knocked on the door.

Randy snapped, “Can you call the Bud guy? This order’s wrong.” Randy waved a sheet of paper in the air.

“Hi. Sure thing.”

Randy shook his head. “I’m sorry, kiddo. What can I do for you?”

Daisy sat in the chair opposite his desk. “We need to talk.”

“It scares the hell out of me every time a woman says those words.” He stabbed the air with a finger. “And in that tone. Sounds like serious business.”

Daisy nodded. “It is. It’s about my duties as waitress.”

Randy rubbed his jaw then crossed his arms over his front. “I’m listening.”

“I’m supposed to wait tables, refill the condiment jars and the silverware tray. Clean the windows and vacuum the floor. Fill in at the register and the bar when someone’s on a break. That’s what all the waitresses do, except me.” She paused, momentarily losing her nerve.

“Go on.”

“You have me work on payroll and banking. Inventory. I make up the schedule. I make sure things get done. I make sure everything gets ordered that we need. In short, you have me acting as a manager. But you don’t pay me like a manager.”

Randy dropped his arms to the desk and picked up a pen, tapping the arm of his chair with it. “I still do my part as owner but you know, Josh, well.” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“I know. I get it, I do. But I’m tired of cleaning up after him. I know you’re looking at RV’s, I’ve seen the catalogs. You want away from the day to day running of this place.”

“My wife and I would like to do some traveling together. An RV looks like a lot of fun.”

“Josh can’t handle running this place.” Daisy tapped her knee with her forefinger. “I know Rocky Top like the back of my hand. I can do everything you need a manager to do, and you know that because I’m the one you call when he messes up. I know he’s your grandson and you’re trying to take care of him by giving him a job. That’s fine. But I need to take care of myself. I can’t keep doing all this extra work and not get paid for it. Not have it on my resume when I go to look for something else because all I can ever be here is a waitress.”

Alarm erupted on Randy’s face. “You quittin’ on me, Daisy?”

“No. I’ll be a waitress here until I graduate or you fire me. Again.” She laughed. “Thank you for that, by the way. Working out that deal with Wade and letting me have my job back.”

Randy waved a hand. “Oh, hell. You have no idea how relieved I was when he came in here, asking for your job back like that. I didn’t know what I was going to do without you. If he hadn’t come in when he did, I probably would have called you and asked you to come back.”

“But you got him to play here for the summer anyway?” She smiled.

Randy answered with a sly smile of his own. “I had to get something out of the deal. Besides, it worked out for the two of you pretty well from what I can see.”

Daisy blushed. “Maybe.”

“I won’t pry or gossip or stick my nose in your business. But I will say this. You two are good together. Good for each other. That’s when you know it’s got staying power, kiddo.”

Daisy was silent, with no idea how to respond. It felt good that other people could see the connection between her and Wade, but the knowledge that it might not be enough gnawed at her.

Randy said, “As for that other business. I’ve known for a while now that things couldn’t stay the way they were. The closer you get to that degree, it’s like a deadline for me and I got to figure out what to do. I want to retire but I don’t want to close this place or sell it. Not yet, anyway. I might have to sell one day but that’s a long time off. Right now, Rocky Top is still mine. Just because I don’t want to run it day to day don’t make a difference with that.”

“I know. And I know you’re in a tight spot with Josh.”

Anger flitted across his face. “That boy needs to grow up. And I guess it’s time he did.” Randy nodded, as if making a decision. “I knew as soon as you figured out what you’re worth here, that we’d be having this conversation.”

Her stomach did a funny flop and she clenched her hands into fists. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I’m gonna have to figure out how to tell Josh he needs to find a job he can actually do.” He wagged a finger at Daisy. “Your first job as manager is to hire a new waitress.”

Daisy was too stunned to speak.

Randy eyed her. “You do want the job, don’t you?”

“Yes!” She collected herself. “Depending on how good the raise is.” She grinned.

Twenty minutes later, she’d haggled him up to a decent salary. She returned to the main dining room to find Wade at the bar talking quietly with Ronisha. At the sight of Daisy, he took his leave of the bartender and strode to the empty stage. There were few customers yet and only one other waitress on duty until the evening rush.

Wade picked up a set list that he’d left behind the last night he played. “You look like something’s up.”

“Randy made me the manager.” Saying it out loud made it feel real, and that scared her. But only a little. She knew she could handle this job.

Wade’s face lit with excitement. “That’s fantastic, honey! You should be proud of this.”

“I am. And I know I can do it.”

He took her hand. “You are going to have your own place one day, just like you want. I know it.”

Daisy nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Wade kissed her, a soft brush of his lips across hers. She leaned into him, not caring who saw or what they thought.

“I guess you better get on the road,” she said. “Eight o’clock comes early. You want to be well-rested for all you’ve got going on tomorrow.”

Wade ran his hands up and down her arms. “Becky’s got nearly every minute of tomorrow scheduled, from breakfast to almost midnight.”

“These meetings are important. I’m glad she’s in your corner.”

“Daisy.”

The sadness in his voice resounded like a warning shot. “Not now. I can’t. Not yet.” Panic clawed at her insides. Words, three of them, wanted so much to slip past her lips but she refused to let them. She would not let him go to Nashville feeling guilty or like he was hurting her. She framed his face with her hands and looked into his dark eyes. “You should be proud, too. Your new songs are amazing and you look and sound so good. They’d be crazy not to offer you a record deal on the spot.”

“I’m just talking to people and singing for them. There’s no guarantee anything will come of it, much less happen right away.”

Maybe not right away, but it would happen. He was too good for it not to. She gave him a quick, hard kiss then stepped away. “I gotta get to work and you need to hit the road.”

“I love you,” he said. “I’ll call you later.”

“You better. Be careful.”

After one last lingering kiss, he left. Daisy watched him go then busied herself with any work she could find.

F
riday night on Nashville’s Lower Broadway was crowded with people. Music spilled out of every bar and club. For now, Wade just strolled, content with the night air and the flow of the crowd on the sidewalk and the lassitude of his own exhaustion. He’d spent all day talking to record company representatives, the conversations sometimes awkward, frequently positive. To say the new songs went over well was an understatement. Daisy’s assessment of much of country radio now being aimed at a young market was spot on, but it seemed there was a hunger for the more adult fare he was writing these days. In one meeting he’d been told point blank that he had no chance of knocking the young guys off the top of the charts, but the label sure wouldn’t mind having their own latter day Kris Kristofferson. Wade had joked that he was glad everybody liked his new beard and played another song.

Becky was thrilled with his attitude, and with the reception he’d gotten from one executive after another. She’d pulled out all the stops to put these meetings together and he didn’t want to disappoint her. So he’d answered the intrusive questions about his past behavior and talked about how much he’d changed. He’d played both old and new songs, whatever anyone wanted to hear. The only time he’d stumbled was when asked what he wanted out of his career at this point. Now, as he walked past some of the bars he’d played when he first came to Nashville, he found himself asking that same question.

What did he want?

A familiar melody drifted out of a bar and he paused on the sidewalk. Someone was singing
Empty Rooms
. Doing a damn good job of it, too. He didn’t often get to hear other people covering his own songs. That and the quality of the voice pulled him into the bar.

The place was small and packed tight with Friday night music lovers. A young man stood on the tiny stage in the far corner, hiding his nerves behind a Gibson acoustic in a sunburst finish that had seen better days. It played beautifully, though, and the kid was damned good. Wade stood near the bar and listened to someone else sing his biggest hit, a dozen different emotions hitting him at once. One by one they fell away and he just listened.

The song had always been so deeply personal to him that he’d never been able to separate it from himself the way songwriters usually had to do when hearing someone else sing their songs. For the first time, that separation happened and he was hearing the song as if for the first time. Pride surged through him at how good the song was, but beyond that was something more, something unexpected. This young guy with curly blond hair and a nervous, unpolished stage presence had enormous potential in his voice and his guitar playing. He had heart and soul and a definite charisma underneath his nerves. He also had the eye of every woman in the place, which didn’t hurt.

Wade was about to step up to the bar to order a beer and ask who the singer was when he saw a sign advertising it as open mic night. Holy shit, the kid just walked in off the street. Energized, Wade pulled out his phone and texted Becky to drag herself out of whatever industry function she was schmoozing and get down here.

The singer left the stage to a hearty round of applause, mumbling his thanks into the microphone. A couple of pretty girls approached him and Wade almost backed off, but there would be plenty of time for girls for this guy later. He made eye contact, not sure if he’d be recognizable with the beard and slightly shaggy hair. The singer’s eyes widened as big as Sunday dinner plates, giving Wade his answer.

“That was a nice job you did with that song,” Wade said.

“Oh my God.” The singer held his guitar in front of him like a shield.

Wade understood that all too well. “Come on, let me buy you a beer.” He got them settled at a table near the back with a pitcher and two glasses. “What’s your name?”

“Rusty Parrish. It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’m a big fan.”