Page 63 of Bleeding Heart
Rex didn’t go quietly. Any time there was a zoning meeting that could affect the club or its entertainment license, he showed up to fight against my parents. Any reason he could find to complain to the town that my parents were doing anything wrong, he took. During the worst years, we had picketers outside our house, tomatoes and eggs thrown at our cars. The good citizens of Brighton allowed that righteousness to prevail becausewewere the evil ones. Their sins are forgivable. Ours? Damned us to hell.
When I moved to California to attend music school, I never wanted to set foot in Brighton again. I wasn’t ashamed of my family, but the way others treated us was exhausting. When Cris and I combined our talents, I transformed from the dorky kid into an up-and-coming rockstar. Looking back, the fault line shifting my future is obvious. It happened right around when Liz entered the picture. I’d had a few run-ins where being a good guy didn’t matter. Her choosing Cris was a gut punch. The proverbial last straw that took me from sinner to Sinner.
“Right before Liz died, the club’s finances were on shaky ground. My dad wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. He agreed to accept a shipment of illegal firearms in exchange for a hefty payout that would keep the doors open. But Stanton set him up, counting on my dad keeping it a secret from Caroline. ATF raided the club and found the guns.” My dad threw everything away that they’d achieved.
“Man, that’s rough.” Cris grimaces.
“Nah, you know what the worst part is? My friends have been telling me for years that what my dad did made me cynical. About life. About love. I wasn’t willing to believe them. Not being able to let go of the grief I had brought the worst out in me. I’ve done shit I’m not proud of, including turning into a guy like Stanton, trying to beat the bastard at his own game. The joke was on me, though. The rat bastard died last year. He’s pushing up daisies, smelling as fresh as one. Sometimes the bad guys win and there’s nothing you can do to help it.” I clutch the wooden sticks .“It’s… life.”
“You know Jake, when you got here, looking like you’d been through the wringer, I thought whatever you were struggling with was about a woman.”
“It is.” I huff, blowing a deep breath out of my nose. “Her name’s Paisley. I’ve never met anyone who balances putting up with my shit and standing her ground the way she does. She’s the kind who will find your weakness and put a band-aid on it.” The opposite of me who made a gaping wound bigger. “Her baggage made her stronger. Fierce. Determined. When we met, I was gobsmacked. She’d broken it off her engagement minutes from the church bells ringing and I was more concerned with how stunning Paisley was in her wedding dress than seeing straight away that whatever she does is with compassion. Aside from having this incredible business sense, she gives people no one thinks deserve a second chance the benefit of the doubt. Paisley thrives on seeing others succeed. And I reacted poorly, selfishly, to something that she needed me to be sympathetic to. It’s made me realize I never got a handle on everything that went down over those few months between impending stardom and imminent doom.”
“In her wedding dress, huh?” Cris raises an eyebrow.
“I thought she’d be easy to manipulate. Instead, she wrapped me around her finger.” I tell Cris everything.
When I’m done, my former bandmate fishes a slip of paper out of his pocket and hands it to me. There’s a phone number and the name Tom scrawled in blue.
“What’s this?”
“Message I got overnight from the rep for a singer-songwriter I’ve collaborated with who was putting out feelers. They’re on the first leg of a summer tour—opening act for another country band. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Anyhow, things got rowdy. There was an accident and the drummer is down for the count. Tom is searching for a replacement for the band’s drummer for the next six-to-eight weeks.”
“Two months is almost the entire tour season.”
“Take it from me, you can’t go back and make it right with any woman until you’ve learned if you have what it takes to stay away from her.”
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29
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I’m sipping cold water and using a red, white, and blue funeral fan to cool myself. This Fourth of July is shaping up to be the hottest on record. There’s a woman sitting on a blanket a few yards away who is spritzing herself. Jealous, I scoop my hand into the cooler, snag an ice cube, and use the tight keyhole at my collar to pop it down the front of my shirt to cool off.
“Paisley! I saw that.” My mother gasps.
“What? I’m hot. My bra is drenched with sweat, anyway. No one will know.” I flash a smile at Mom.
“Oh, get me one too. This heat is brutal.”
I fish around for a decent sized chunk that hasn’t melted into the icy water yet. Mom uses it to wet her arms before slipping it under her top.
“Phew, that’s nicer. Now if the sun sets, the breezes might pick up.” She moves her low-to-the-ground beach chair closer to mine, slips her sandals off, and leans back. “You’re not dehydrated?”
I shake an almost empty water bottle. It’s my second one since we arrived at the park. We’d packed a picnic and come early to stake out a spot at Brighton’s fireworks display. Greer, Byron, Karen, and Mac are meeting us here. I just hope I see the light show and am not in search of a vacant porta potty. Rented bathrooms skeeve me out when it’s dark. With a crowd this size, it’s a crapshoot if the one I get will have TP and hand sanitizer. The thought makes me shiver.
Mom checks if anyone nearby is paying attention to us. “How are you feeling about tomorrow? It’s not too late to change your mind.” She laces her fingers into mine.
Even on a hot and sticky day like today, it’s a comfort.
Tomorrow I’m having my tubes tied. I’m a proponent of safe sex. When I go back to having said sex—not that it’ll be soon—I plan on wearing a full body condom to protect all the effort it is taking piece my jagged heart back together.
Sterilization is a choice I wanted to make after my father died and before meeting Gavin because I didn’t want to have the added burden of taking birth control beyond my thirties. Unfortunately, I waited, and then I was insecure about having the elective procedure done at a hospital where I was familiar with so many of the doctors. Instead of feeling cared for, I’d gotten it in my head that they’d gossip about me. Yes, I know confidentiality and all that, but once that unsafe feeling crawls over your skin, it’s hard to shake off.
Facing that fear was important to me. I’m having my regular gynecologist perform the surgery. Then mom and I are taking a detour. Our mini mother-daughter trip is a staycation at a hotel and spa that’s close to Brighton. We can both get pampered, and neither of us has to worry if there are any complications.
“What do you suppose Jake will say if he wants children?”