Goodbyes and Second Chances (The Bleu Series Book 1) (12 page)

Chapter Ten

Three years is a long time.
Over
three years is a long time. A very
long time…

In these three
years, a lot has happened. I graduated from community college with an
associate’s degree in business. I know. It’s not writing. I took all of the
creative and non-creative writing classes I could but it still wasn’t enough to
scrounge up a degree. So I had to make due with business. I guess it comes in
handy since I pretty much run Shimmer Lakes Trailer Park and Campground these
days. My dream? I think not. But I feel it’s a small sacrifice to pay, if Aunt
Evie gets to not work so hard and Kyle gets to attend a well-known college in
South Carolina. The guys leaving sort of forced Kyle’s hand in having to grow
up a bit. Without the distraction of the twins, my brother’s grades did a
complete one-eighty. We were all pleasantly surprised to find Kyle to be a whiz
in computer programming. That’s what he is majoring in, and I know the sky’s
the limit for him now. I can’t tell you how proud I am of my brother.

The new millennium
has rushed in on us and new trends have encouraged us to make changes. For some
odd reason, rich folks have taken up the hobby of camping. Not the type we here
are used to, with tents and sleeping bags. No. I’m talking high-dollar fancy
camping with campers nicer than any trailer this park has ever housed.

The other side
of the lake has no spare land to accommodate this new trend. They’ve squished
every extra inch of their side with commercial properties with lots of glitz
and glam. Luckily we had land to spare. It took the help of Hudson to persuade
Aunt Evie to agree to remodel half of the campground into an RV park. We even
put in a pool. The renovations paid for themselves the first year, and this
year is just money in our pockets. That’s a very new and very nice feeling,
just let me tell you.

Hudson has
surprisingly become a pretty close friend. His dad would probably kill him if
he knew Hudson was over on this side of the lake more often than not, giving me
and Aunt Evie pointers. He’s a good enough looking guy with brown hair and
brown eyes, but I see him as only as a friend. He often likes to remind me that
he sees more potential for us than just friendship, but I always remind him
that I don’t. He doesn’t push it, so it’s never become an uncomfortable barrier
between us.

Leona left me
too. She now lives on the other side of the lake with her lawyer husband in one
of the fancy townhouses that I actually used to clean. She snagged her a
slightly older man. Grant is in his mid-thirties and spoils her rotten. He even
paid for her to attend an exclusive interior decorating institute. She
graduates this spring and has already signed the lease on a building to open
her interior design company. I’m happy for her, but I’m just so blame lonely.

I’m sitting on
the screened-in front porch of my small cabin, watching it pour rain. Spring
showers have shown up mercilessly and won’t leave Shimmer Lakes alone. I love
the sound of it as it dances off of the lake behind me. Aunt Evie offered this
cabin to me so I can have my own space, and I love it. It may only be a
one-room space, but the fact that there are no wheels attached to it gives me
comfort of it being permanent. The open room keeps company with a kitchenette,
small sitting area, and my bed. It is queen-sized and feels luxurious after
spending most of my life sleeping on a tinier-than-twin bed. It has a small yet
sufficient bathroom and no closets, and is decorated with secondhand finds, but
I don’t care. It’s mine. I have a small deck on the back that overlooks the
lake, but it’s not covered, so I’m confined to the front porch today. And
that’s okay, because it’s a nice space as well.

I have my chair
propped up against the wall on two legs as I balance my lunch in my lap. I’m
trying to decide if I want to call the pool guy and set up another cleaning
tomorrow after this storm passes. I just had him out here two days ago and
really don’t want to have to deal with him again so soon. He is nice and all,
but he asks me to go out with him every time he does the pool. I can’t confess
to him that I am in love with the up-and-coming rock star, Dillon Bleu. That
sounds laughable just playing through my head. I always politely decline, and
then hide from him as much as possible. I resolve to just clean the pool myself
as I take a bite of my pimento cheese sandwich. I look over a few blocks down
the road and nearly choke on my lunch at what I see. I slam the chair back on
all four legs and grab for my glass. I gulp down some tea, trying to dislodge
the chunk of food.

After three long
years of sporadic calls and letters, I can hardly believe it. My eyes instantly
tear up as I watch an ultra-sleek black and silver tour bus, with Bleu Streak
painted along the side in vibrant blue, pull up to Cora’s. The bus towers over her
tiny trailer and looks completely out of place. I self-consciously look down at
my worn-out jeans with rips at the knees and my faded Pearl Jam T-shirt,
feeling completely inadequate. I look back up and stare as several guys pile
out and mad-dash it into her little home. One is a good bit taller than the
rest, and I know instantly that it’s him. My heart skips all kinds of beats as
I watch him. He has a hoodie pulled low over his head. He glances around once
before ducking inside.

I sit stunned
for a few moments. I can’t believe he just pops up in the middle of a rainstorm
after all this time, unannounced. I’m elated and disappointed all at the same
time. I sit here, glued to this chair and gape at the shiny new tour bus. He
has pulled it off, undoubtedly. During the last phone conversation I had with
him a few months ago, he told me they were in the final negotiations of their
record deal.

I’ve lost my
appetite, so I grab up my lunch and take it inside to dump out. After I keep
myself busy for over an hour with cleaning around my cabin, I amble over to the
front window and peek outside to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. Nope. It’s
still there. I let out long sigh. This monstrous bus is blocking the entire
narrow street. I watch as bored campers drive around on their fancy little golf
carts. Each time one nears the bus, they have to drive through Mr. Wayne’s yard
to get by it. It’s already causing a muddy mess. It’s a wonder the old man
hasn’t already called to complain.

I know it’s my
responsibility to handle this, so I call the front desk. “Hey Jen. Can you find
me an available RV site?” Jen handles the RV park bookings during the tourist
season. She is a vibrant young blonde who seems to always have an abundance of
energy. She never sits still.

“Sure. Just give
me a sec.” I listen to her clicking over the computer keys. “Hmm…Let’s see. I
have site fourteen and site twenty-two available.”

“I need
twenty-two. It’s more private. Book it under my name, please. Then I need you
to go over to Cora’s trailer and ask her guests to move over to the RV park to
that site. Okay?”

“No problem,”
Jen says before hanging up.

Five minutes
later Jen pulls up to Cora’s on a golf cart. She looks at the tour bus then in
my direction. I know she can’t see me, but I can guess the message she just
relayed to me. She darts inside. Within minutes, some dude exits the small
trailer, climbs into the bus, and follows Jen over to the far side of the RV
park. It’s out of my sight, and more importantly, it’s out of sight of others.
This place will become a circus as soon as word gets out that Bleu Streak is
here.

Jen zooms up on
the golf cart and bounds inside without knocking. “OMG!!!”

Jen is friendly
enough, but she is new to these parts and doesn’t know any of our history. Jen
looks like she could be my younger sister, with the exception of her being tall
with hazel eyes. She’s got a lot more energy than I do, too. Right now her
entire body is vibrating with excitement or maybe caffeine… Probably both.

“Please call the
security company and let them know we need to book a guard for the front gate
ASAP.” I try to ignore her questioning gaze. We use security guards during
holiday weekends to keep out straying visitors who are trying to freeload at
the pool or beach. I guess a holiday just pulled up in a shiny new tour bus.

“OMG!!! Dillon
Bleu just asked where to locate you! Said he went by Aunt Evie’s but nobody was
there. Dillon Bleu is looking for you!” She’s jumping up and down now like a
school girl. I get it, really. Bleu Streak is starting to blow up in a big way.
TV appearances. Concerts. It’s happening big time for those guys. They are all
over the radio too. I even have their about-to-be-released CD already. I won’t
tell her that though.

“Please calm
down and take care of the security guard before things get too crazy,” I say
again, but she’s not budging, so I relent. “Okay, he’s my best friend, if you
must know. Now go. Take care of business.”

She’s grinning
big time. “He said to tell you to stay put.” She points her finger at me sternly
and seems so proud to get to tell me this little message. She bounces back out
the door and is gone in a flash. Jen is only a year younger than me, but boy,
does she make me feel old.

I’m nervous all
of a sudden. I yank the band out of my long hair and run to my bathroom to drag
a brush through the knotty mess. I glance in the mirror at my makeup-less face
and moan at my plainness. “It’s just Dillon,” I say to myself. But the
butterflies dancing in my stomach don’t believe me. I gargle the pimento cheese
out of my mouth with some mouthwash, and then I jet back to the armoire that
serves as my closet. Before I can pull it open, there’s a knock at the door.
Great. Just great. I pad over barefooted and ease the door open to reveal a
larger-than-life Dillon Bleu. We stand here, staring intensely at each other.
He’s taller. How’s that possible? I have to gaze farther up than last time. His
features are bit more defined now too, with a stronger jawline. His eyes are
shrouded by the hoodie, making him seem more mysterious than I know he really
is.

Dillon takes one
step forward and with one rapid swoop, he grabs me up and laces my legs around
his waist. With his lips planted firmly on mine, he walks in and kicks the door
shut. I have missed him more than I realized, and now I can’t get close enough
to him. I’m clutching him as near to me as possible. He is following suit with
his fingers grasping my backside tightly.

Without a word
spoken, Dillon backs me up against the door and continues to consume me with
his mouth. I thought, after all of this time, that whatever feelings he had for
me would have evaporated. It seems as though they have only grown stronger.

I want to see
him better, so I pull the hoodie off his head and gasp. “What did you do to
your hair?” I ask, stunned, breaking our silence.

He’s trailing a
hot path of kisses along my neck and barely stops to reply, “After all of this
time, Jewels, you want to talk about my hair?” He goes right back to consuming
my neck, so I study this new hairstyle—it’s a mohawk, of all things. His
gorgeous hair has been completely shaved on the sides, and his remaining black
silky hair is sporting dark blue tips. The tattoo behind his ear is completely
exposed now. He’s sexy as all get-out. If there ever was a guy who could pull a
mohawk off, it would certainly be Dillon Bleu.

I run my hands
through it, making him groan. It’s surprisingly soft. I thought it would be
full of gooey hair product. I run my hands through it again, testing the feel
of it.

He glances up
and I nearly get lost in his deep, seductive eyes. “Stop playing in my hair,
pretty girl, and kiss me like you mean it,” he says as he reclaims my lips. I
obey and pour out every ounce of longing I have had for him. My throat thickens
with emotion as the thought hits me that he left this place a determined boy
and has returned an accomplished man.

My tears splash
over both our faces, as I let go of a fear I have held for the last several
years. I never thought he would come back, and yet, here he is in my arms. He has
kept his promise after all.

He releases my
lips and kisses away the tears on my cheeks. “I’m here.” He reassures me as
though he could read my thoughts. “I promised, remember?”

All I can do is
nod. I can’t find my voice. I wrap my arms firmly around his neck and bury my
face into the inviting crook of his neck that has always felt like home and
continue to cry. Dillon kicks his boots off, carries me to my bed, and lays me
down. I watch as he pulls off the damp hoodie and climbs in beside me. He wraps
me in his arms. I snuggle back into the crook of his neck so I can breathe in
the delicious smell of him. We stay this way, clinging to each other, listening
to the rain pour heavily outside until I cry it all out and we both doze off.

* * * *

I awaken with a
start to a darkened cabin, alone. I sit up and feel around, but he’s gone. A
sob bubbles out of me uninhibited and I can’t control it. I must have dreamt up
the whole thing. My sobs are growing louder with my disappointment when I feel
the bed dip down.

“
Shh
… I’m right here.
Shh
…” Dillon is holding me and rocking
me back and forth as though I am a child.

“Where were
you?” I sob out, probably sounding like a child. “I thought you left me again.”
I can’t believe how badly I just totally spazzed out.