Sweet Talk Me (36 page)

“Not for long, you’re not,” said Dubose.

True’s heart sped up. “You know I want to keep my U-pick operation.”

“Let’s talk about that later, okay? I’m still pretty shocked by tonight’s revelations.”

“All right.” She ignored the hurt and straightened her spine. “When I was younger, I heard Mama and Daddy talking about her affair. It didn’t last long. Less than a month. I didn’t know who her lover was, though. I always wondered.”

Dubose drained his glass. “Biscuit Creek is like Peyton Place.”

“Yes, it is.” She paused a beat. “Can you take a little more news?”

“Another scandal?”

“I don’t think of it that way. Because the consequences were … beautiful.”

“I’m not sure about this.”

“You need to know.”

“Then let’s get it over with.” His crankiness was perfectly understandable.

“Weezie”—she focused on his eyes—“is your half sister.”

His pupils enlarged. “You’re kidding.”

“No. The affair with your dad lasted only a month, but she was the product of it.”

“Is there proof?”

She flinched. “Of course not. And it doesn’t matter anyway. She’s becoming your sister through our marriage vows.”

He stood and went straight to the old mahogany bar table. “Dad really did a number on us.” He poured himself another drink. “Your mother wasn’t his first affair. Mom and I never know if someday someone’s going to come knocking on our door with paternity papers and expecting a third of his assets.”

“That must be hard.” True tried to be sympathetic. “But we’re not the types who would, of course.”

“You’re not?”

Wow.
That
hurt.

“You’re talking to your future wife,” she said coolly. “And that’s my sister you’re also wondering about. Come on.”

“Geez”—he shook his head—“I’m sorry.” He came back to sit beside her. “What a jerky thing to say.”

“I forgive you. I know this is a shock.”

He held her hand tight. She ignored her discomfort and focused on the fact that he seemed humble, for the first time since she’d known him.

“I’m glad I have you, True. You’re not like the other women I know. You honestly don’t give a shit about money, do you?”

“Of course not! I mean, it’s great to have. But we’ve both lost family. We know what’s most important—being with the people you love.”

He kissed her, and it was warm. Tolerable, when she thought about everything he’d ever done for her.

She felt a surge of hope. Marriage wasn’t meant to be easy, was it? She’d make sure theirs worked, the same way Mama and Daddy had made theirs work, even though Mama had strayed …

“You’ll always ask me why I care so much about making partner,” Dubose said. “And then when I’m partner, you’ll tell me having supper with the family is more important than my next big deal.”

She smiled. “You’re right.”

“Every man on the path to greatness has a weak spot.” He pulled a strand of hair off her face. “And you’re mine. I’ve just learned to accept it.”

She sat there for a few seconds, processing what he’d just said. And while she did, streams of images flowed through her head, past and present, like thread in a needle cinching together the worn calico quilt that was her life. She thought of Weezie. Carmela. Her studio. Gage. Tomatoes. Roger at the Starfish. Her dogs. Paddleboards. The moon. Maybank Hall and the people who’d lived there before her.

Harrison …

Oh, Harrison!

What had she done? Why was she perpetually such a fool? When would it end, her enslavement to her parents’ worldview? And when would fear stop guiding all her decisions?

“Dubose?”

“Yes?”

She put her drink down on a small coffee table and stood. “I’m not interested in being your weak spot. As a matter of fact”—she couldn’t believe she’d taken so long to see this—“I’m tired of trying to be good enough for you and your mother. I’m more than good enough.”

“Come on.” He gave a short laugh. “I was saying that I
want
you, no matter what.”

“No matter what? As if I present a lot of obstacles to be overcome?”

“You’re upset about what my mother did,” he said in his assertive yet soothing attorney’s voice, “and the wedding stress has been enormous.” He stood. “Don’t forget that I was there when no one else was, when you were alone and suffering.”

She backed away from him. “I’m grateful for that. Really. But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life thanking you for the privilege of being your Achilles’ heel. I have better things to do with my time.”

She grabbed her purse. “I’m an artist. I’m a farmer. I’m also a fantastic girlfriend and sister. I would have made you an amazing wife, but I’m no longer interested. The wedding’s off.”

“An artist? What’re you talking about?” He stood in front of her at the door. “Rethink this, please, True. Just take a couple hours to calm down, all right?”

“Dubose?”

“What?”

“If I were any calmer right now, I’d be dead.” She pushed by him and didn’t look back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Harrison got a call from True’s number at ten
PM.
He didn’t want to answer it. But what if something was wrong? He blew out a breath and clicked the
ON
button on his cell phone. “Hello?”

“Harrison?” She sounded awful.

“Yes?” He imagined Weezie missing. The barn burned down. Something wrong with Gage.

“I was stupid,” she said. “I made a huge mistake telling you to go. Please come back and talk to me about how we can work things out.”

“You’re getting married.”

“No. No, I’m not. I told Dubose tonight we’re over.”

“You’re just having cold feet.”

“No, I’m
not
.” Her voice cracked.

“Sure, you are. I’ve seen you in action, True, and I told you I was done.” His pride could take no more beatings. “You were right. We’ll hold each other back. Now go marry your rich boyfriend. I wish you both well.”

He hung up the phone.

It didn’t ring again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Busted.

Harrison looked up from the floor and saw Dan standing over him, a disturbing leer on his face.

“What’d I tell you I’d do if you get drunk again?” Dan asked him.

Harrison closed his eyes. “Kick my ass.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for ten years.” His mouth tasted like a garbage dump somewhere in the Sahara Desert. “It ain’t never gonna happen.”

“Watch the double negatives.”

Harrison rolled over onto a bottle and put an arm over his eyes. “I can talk any way I want. I’m a country music superstar.”

“That may be, but I’m your manager. And if you don’t get up in ten seconds, I’m pouring this glass of water on your face.” Dan held up a cup.

“Not a Big Gulp.”

“Yes. It’s the king of cups.” Dan laughed a miserable little laugh. “Ten, nine, eight, seven—”

Harrison lifted up on his elbows, and it was like his brain slammed into a giant wall.

“Six, five, four—”

He grabbed Dan’s ankle and pulled. But he didn’t budge. Maybe because Harrison felt weak. The last thing he remembered eating was a couple of Moon Pies in the car on the way back from Biscuit Creek. But that seemed like weeks ago.

“Three, two, one, and—”

Hell, he needed a shower anyway. He closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the cold water bath.

“You dumbass,” Dan whined because he was already feeling guilty. “It’s getting on your Rolex.”

“
Your
Rolex. I was gonna re-gift it to you for Christmas.”

Hah.

When the shower ended, Harrison took a deep breath, rubbed his hand down his face, and grabbed Dan’s leg again.

Success.

Dan went down, his butt landing in the pool of water that sure didn’t belong in the middle of Harrison’s living room floor. But neither did all the video games and beer bottles.

Why a bicycle was there, Harrison had no idea. And then had a vague recollection of riding it down the grassy hill outside his house and screaming “Whoopee!” like he was a kid.

But it didn’t work. It was no fun. No fun at all. He needed another person there to have fun. Person, for him, also included dogs.

“My job sucks,” he said. “I got a trillion dollars, but I can’t have a dog. Will you hurry up and marry a sweet girl who likes dogs so when I have to travel, she’ll watch it for me? No way is my dog going to a doggy hotel. I hear the service is awful. No TV. Dogs love football.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“He already has a name. Sam.”

“Good name.”

“Get me a dog collar with that name on it, please.”

“Not until you sober up. This is ridiculous.” Dan stood up and held out his hand. “Come on.”

“I got it.” No way was he gonna let his manager lift him off the floor. He groaned and pretended he was Rocky. After a good twenty seconds of extreme effort, he was standing upright, wincing so bad he could hardly see.

“Advil,” he rasped, and started walking like Frankenstein toward his bedroom.

“I got it right here.” Dan caught up with him and gave him the pills.

Harrison swallowed them down with no water.

“That’s bad for you.” Dan filled only the bottom of the Big Gulp with water and handed it to him.

Harrison drank. And drank. “That thing’s like a bottomless pit.” He finally finished and handed it back.

“I’ll give you one hour to pull it together,” Dan said. “And then I need your answer about LA. If you say yes, you have to fly out tomorrow for a photo shoot.”

“What’s today?”

“Sunday.”

Shit. It was done. True was married. Last night was her honeymoon. Harrison wished he could cry like a baby, but he was a manly man. He didn’t cry. He wrote hit songs instead.

He felt a huge one coming on. “Gimme my guitar.” He paused a beat. “Please,” he added politely.

No sense making Dan really hate him. Pretend hate was okay. Even fun. But Harrison sensed that maybe, just maybe, he’d been pushing his manager too far. He looked down.

“I’m begging you, man.” Dan was on his knees, holding on to Harrison’s legs. “Write something great. And I’ll come back in an hour and ask you about LA.”

Harrison shook him off gently. “I can tell you right now. I’ll do it, so go home and relax. And don’t worry about the hit song. This one’s gonna go straight to number one.”

He already had a little bit happening right now, and it was hick hop all the way:

So I’m shooting up the charts, and you’re breaking lots of hearts.

Wh-wh-whoopee for me, wh-wh-whoopee for you.

My Grammy shelf is growing, and your confidence is showing.

Wh-wh-whoopee for me, wh-wh-whoopee for you.

My boots are by Lucchese and your Bordelle bras are racy.

Wh-wh-whoopee for me, wh-wh-whoopee for you.

You might not know it, and I’m probably gonna blow it,

But I gotta have the answer from my favorite moonlight dancer,

Would you join me in the attic for some kinky acrobatics,

I want nothing more to do … than to make whoopee with you!

So True might guess he was talking about her, but he doubted she had Bordelle bras. That would throw her off. They used to run him around a thousand bucks a pop anytime he’d buy them for one of his exes.

Should he change
attic
to
kitchen
? They’d never done it in the kitchen. Then she could sing it when she heard it on the radio and not be embarrassed.

Would you join me in the kitchen for some lovin’ and bewitchin’ …

He wished he could ask someone. Someone who was good with words.

Gage.

He called him up. “I got this song,” he said, “and I was hoping you could tell me which line is better.”

Gage listened, then said, “I prefer,
Would you join me in the store, we can do it on the floor
.”

“Wait. That’s you and Carmela! You dog.”

“You never heard it from me.”

There was an awkward silence. But Harrison was too hung over to fill it. He looked at the hands on his wet watch.

“Hey, you missed a great event,” Gage jumped in a long twenty seconds later.

Yes!
Harrison pumped his fist in the air. His brother was getting more socially comfortable by the day. Sure, most people would have said
You missed a great time.
Or,
You missed a great party.
But it was a good start.

“I hate events,” Harrison said, remembering he was in a very bad mood.

“True had an art show. One hundred thirty-six people came. She put out the word at the Starfish Grill. Your friend Cornelius and his buddies played for a while, and then Booty Call took over. Man, Carmela can dance.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“True even sold a few collages and got enough to pay the bands.”

“Wait a second. She got Booty Call for the wedding. When was this so-called
event
?”

“It was last night. She didn’t have a wedding.”

Everything in Harrison’s house went strangely red and out of focus, and he heard an odd buzzing noise. Then everything went back to normal except for his heartbeat, which was going crazy. “Oh, so they’re gonna elope next week or something? She told me Dubose and Penn might not go for the down-home wedding reception idea.”

“No, that’s not it at all. She told Carmela that she told Dubose she didn’t want to marry him. She called off the wedding.”

“Damn.” Harrison had to sit down. She’d really followed through. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Why should I call you?”

“I’m your brother. And you know damned well I’m in love with her.”

Shit. He’d been trying so hard not to be.

“Oh, that’s right. And you did nothing about it. Even when I told you
Bad Rogue Wins
. That was a sign. So why should I call you? You blew it. You don’t deserve her. You should have fought for her.”

“I asked her to marry me once, and she said no. And it would be foolish to ask her again. I can’t hunker down in Biscuit Creek and hit the top of the country music charts all at the same time. And she can’t travel the world. She has an estate to tend, collages to make, and a sister to overprotect. I’ll be living a lot on the West Coast, especially this coming year. I’m going to be a judge on that singing competition show. I’m heading to LA tomorrow to get that ball rolling.”