Embracing Everly (18 page)

WORK SUCKED. I
had barely made twenty dollars in tips and some prick thought my body was a free for all and grabbed my ass while I was getting off stage. I almost killed myself trying get away from him because of the damn heeled booties I wore. My right hook told him my body was not for pawing me with his greedy hands. Janice, the girl behind the counter, brought me a bag of ice just as he took off with his buddies. The last ones to clear out of the bar.

“Nice one. I saw it from over there.”

“Thanks.” I took the baggie of ice and held it to my knuckles, the coldness bringing instant relief.

“Great set tonight. It’s a shame not many were here listening.”

“Thanks, Janice, but a gig is a gig, right? Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night. Hopefully, since the break is over the crowd will pick up.”

“Hey,” I stopped, turning as she called me back.

“My brother works at the Wishing Well bar and I know they’re looking for new people to sing on Thursdays. They need someone quick this week to fill in for their usual girl. I could put a good word in for you.”

It was amazing how one little light blinking at the end of the tunnel could make you feel better. “Really? That would be great. I have a CD you could give him.” I reached into my bag and handed her one. I always kept a few with me in hopes some musical genius would magically step into the place I was performing at for the night and discover me.

“I’ll give it to him tomorrow night. Good luck, Everly.”

I needed to expand where I sang, and I craved to hear back from any single venue I had sent my music to. I wasn’t expecting miracles, but I was hoping for one teeny, tiny one. And, Janice luckily just got me another gig to help increase my savings for New York. New York? I hadn’t thought about it since Mick and I started seeing each other.

The entire ride back to his apartment it had been the only thing I could think of. Mick and New York. Could I leave him? Would he come if we were still solid? Would he even want to leave the Carolina’s? What if he said no? What if he asked me to give it all up? Instead of heading straight to his place like promised, I went to mine instead.

I slumped on the couch with my head between my knees, breathing hard trying to keep the tears at bay. But they found their way just as I felt his hand on my shoulder. I didn’t even hear him come in. He kneeled on the ground, tipping back my chin up with his fingers.

“Hey, what’s all this about? Whose ass do I need to kick?”

Damn tears dripped down my face, and I felt weak for breaking down in front of him.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

I wiped my runny nose with my sleeve. “It’s nothing.”

He sat back on his heels. “Really, Ev? This is how you want to do this?”

I lifted my gaze to see the hurt in his eyes. “It’s not you, Mick,” I mumbled.

“Wait a minute.” He sprang up to his feet. “Is this that fucking speech, ‘it’s not you it’s me,’ because, Everly, I swear to God.”

“No, no, no,” I uttered, sliding to the floor, pulling him down with me. “I forgot about something that has been important to me for like forever, and it just has me worried.”

“And…?” he asked, waiting for me to fill in the missing blanks.

“You know how I want to write music?”

He nodded.

“Well, I always saw myself busting my ass in New York or L.A. trying to get my music heard and now there’s you, and now I don’t know how it all works.”

I could actually see the moment of clarification kick in, and relief took over. “Shit, Ev, you had me sweating there.” He tugged the elastic band from my hair, smoothing it out with his fingers as it fell around my shoulders. “Ev, number one, if we’re still doing this thing and I hope we are, you could write music anywhere. It doesn’t matter where you live. What matters is your talent and babe, you’ve got talent, but if you ever feel like you need to go, then go, because I’ll be right behind you, rooting for you. Honestly, I’m kind of shocked you doubted it—me. I thought you understood my feelings for you. I don’t use that word ever, Angel, except for you. You’re the only one.”

My hand caressed his cheek as I sighed, leaning into his chest. “It’s just this is all so new, Mick and I didn’t want to presume anything. It’s fine and no, I don’t doubt how you feel. I think I doubted me a little though.”

Mick fell back on the floor pulling me down on top of him. “Angel, never doubt yourself, and this whole thing is new to me too, and it scares the living shit out of me, but I’m not ready to let go of this yet. When I look at you, I hope I’m lucky enough never to find out what losing you might feel like. I haven’t had much luck in my life. My family is hopeless. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen and for the first time since then, I don’t want to be alone and that’s because of you.” He lifted my hand and placed a tender kiss on my palm.

“What the hell happened to your knuckles? They’re all red and swollen.”

“I handled it.” I straddled his waist, lifting his shirt as I kissed my way up his stomach to distract him.

“What did you handle, Ev?” His tone grew serious, and I knew playtime was over when he narrowed his eyes looking mighty pissed.

“Some jerk touched me tonight, so I hit him.”

He sprang forward, toppling me over to the ground. “Who? Where the hell was that ass of a boss when it happened?”

“It’s fine.” I cupped his face and pressed my lips to his. I ran my tongue, forcing him to part his lips, but he was not having it.

“Everly, stop,” he ordered, pinning my hands down with his.

“The boss was off tonight. It was just Janice and me there, but on a bright note she took a CD to give to her brother who works down at a bar that’s looking for new talent.”

“What bar?”

“The Wishing Well.”

“Did you and this Janice leave together?”

I cringed. I thought about lying but hated having to. “No,” I muttered. “But…”

“God, damn it, Ev, you promised me.” He raised his voice probably picturing someone grabbing me and hurting me.

“Stop being so mean.”

“Mean? I don’t want anything to happen to you, and that’s me being mean? I call it caring. I knew I should’ve been there.”

“No,” I pulled my hands from his grip. “Mick I appreciate your concern, but I’ve watched over myself for a long time. My dad taught me how to protect myself, and I had my gun with me.” As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, I knew it was the absolute worse thing to say.

“You had your gun? I see,” he fumed, pausing for a beat. “So, some asshole comes up behind you, and you pull out your gun, and that’s if you can get to it, are you ready to pull that trigger, Angel, and kill someone? Are you?”

“Stop it, Mick.” Now, he was just pissing me off. I liked him being protective but this was more than that, and I didn’t like the tone he was talking to me in.

“No, Ev, I won’t stop. Have you ever killed anyone? Have you ever watched the life drain out of someone’s eyes right in front of you? Are you prepared to put on that god awful orange jumpsuit and head to prison to be someone’s bitch? Because they’ll love that pretty body and face in there.”

I waved him off not wanting to deal with him right now. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.” I started to stalk off, but his next words stopped me.

“I can’t fucking do this. What was I thinking?” Mick said in a hushed, pained tone. “Come find me when you grow the fuck up and realize the shit that’s out there.”

Mick stormed away back to his place, slamming his door. I stood in mine waiting, completely dumbfounded as to what just happened, hoping he’d come back out to apologize, but he didn’t.

“Fine,” I yelled loudly before slamming my door to make my own point.

The alarm went off like always at eight in the morning. Not wanting to wake, I picked it up and flung it across the room, the wire yanking out of the wall along with it. I closed my eyes and the night’s conversation clouded my thoughts and kept me from falling back asleep. It had taken me forever to finally drift off after he took off making me feel like we were over. I hated him for that. Not really, but I was mad as hell at him. Who did he think he was ordering me around? Not this girl. I could take care of myself, and I didn’t need a man to help me do it either.

Finally, after what felt like hours my eyes grew heavy and darkness tugged at me, exhaustion allowing me to temporarily forget my problems with Mick.

My cell rang on my nightstand pulling me from my deep slumber “No,” I muttered into my pillow. I allowed myself one peek in hopes it was him ready to beg for my forgiveness from his caveman behavior last night.

It wasn’t.

I didn’t recognize the number, and I had been trained my whole life to pick it up just in case my dad needed to reach me from an undisclosed number. “Hello,” I answered groggily. “Dad, is that you?”

A raspy throat cleared on the other end. “Everly, it’s Dawson… um, Uncle Dawson calling you back.”

“Oh.” Feeling tired but at the same time curious, I sat up, wiping the sleepy dust from my eyes. “Hi, thanks for calling me back.”

“I’ve been meaning to reach out, but with work and all.”

“It’s fine. I actually called to see if you’ve heard from my dad? I haven’t in weeks and weeks, and it’s not like him. I was hoping…”

“I have, sweetheart. He’s fine. He’s just buried in his job and from what he says it’s highly sensitive.”

I erased the smile that his term of endearment triggered. “Well, how is he? And how are you?”

“Good. Damn, it’s good to hear your voice. How are things in college? Your dad gave me some information, but not a whole lot to go on.”

“Very well. Just another two months and then I’ll go from there.”

“Proud of you, Ev. I’d love to see you soon. Maybe when you graduate and Thomas gets back from wherever the hell he is, we could all sit down and talk.”

“I’d like that.”

“Everything else okay? Make any new friends?” he asked, it was an odd question because his tone was very fatherly, but very inquisitive like he was digging for information to relay.

“Yep, all good here. Busy with my music and classes.”

I heard a sigh of frustration. “Good. Don’t be a stranger, Everly.”

I started to answer, but he was gone already. Wanting to go back to sleep, I tossed and turned knowing Mick’s bed was pressed against the wall to my bedroom. I lay there wondering if he was asleep, or if he was as restless as I had been from our fight last night. I hated arguing with him, but he left me with no choice. He treated me like a five-year-old and even though I knew he was just concerned about my safety, I hated how he thought I was incapable of taking care of myself. Not all girls were weak and helpless needing a Prince Charming to rescue her.

THE EYE DROPS
weren’t helping hide the fact that I’d been crying for the last two days and nights. I hadn’t even heard one peep from his place, leaving me to believe he wasn’t even there. Which, unfortunately, led to me torturing myself as to where he went to sleep at night, or with whom. Janice came through for me and tonight was my first night playing at the Wishing Well. I should be pumped, but I was having a hard time convincing myself it was all in my head. That maybe Mick was home crying, well, maybe not crying, but sad and that he was waiting for me to come to him. I could be the bigger person. It was apparent that I’d have to be in order to move on with him or without him.

I finished touching up my eyelashes with mascara, grabbed my things and silently wished he’d answer when I knocked.

I waited for several minutes, listening for any sign of life, hoping he just didn’t hear. “Mick,” I hollered. “Are you in there?”

The silent response was enough to make me want to scream. Pacing for several seconds, I contemplated all the crazy scenarios floating around in my head. I took a deep breath refusing to break down and sob before a gig. Screw him!

The place was packed. For once in two days I felt positive. I scanned the crowd who had been waiting for me to pick up my guitar and start the first session. Nervously, I slipped the guitar over my head and stood in front of the microphone. “Hey, thanks for coming out tonight. I hope you like to rock it out old school style, because that’s what I love, and that’s what I sing. Here’s a little Joe Cocker to start off things.”

Most people didn’t understand the music I liked because the Top 20 had been programmed in their car and their heads for their current generation. And whenever someone asked what kind of music I sang, they looked downright shocked that a little girl like me grooved to Fleetwood Mac, Guns and Roses, Aerosmith and many, many more. I changed each song up to the point you wouldn’t even know that it wasn’t an original of my own unless they were well versed in classic rock. I never really liked to sing the ones I wrote in front of an audience. I think a part of me was too worried they’d hate them, and I’d lose faith and the courage to pursue my dream.

The lights were hot as they beat down on me. I felt the perspiration but kept moving on from song to song. Just as I finished a song by The Cure, a request, I saw him. At first I wasn’t sure because it was extremely hard to see anyone with the lights blazing in my eyes, but I’d know that stance anywhere. I cleared my throat, kept my gaze on the bar in the rear, pretending to mind my own business. I strummed a few notes, watching him smiling at Theresa, aka the stripper, and wanted to puke. How could he? I was a fool because I honestly thought for once I found a guy who would prove me right—that love and soul mates existed. I was two-seconds away from jumping off that stage and kicking both of their asses. She was saddled beside him, her hand resting on his shoulders, laughing at something he said. Which was probably one his cheesy pickup lines, not that he needed one with her. It was my understanding that she took her job very seriously, and every paying customer left quite satisfied.