Black Gold (14 page)

This time, when there was no answer, she somehow knew it was because he had gone. After a while, when she had worked up the courage to open the door, the only sign of him was the bed, which had been clumsily made, the blankets tugged up and the pillows mounded near the headboard.

Chase might not be much of a housekeeper, but he was a gentleman until the end.

CHAPTER TWELVE

"What are you doing here?" Sherry demanded when she finally came out the front door of the diner. There was a streak of ketchup on the collar of her uniform, and a faint sheen of perspiration on her brow. The parking lot was full of trucks, guys squeezing in a quick meal before heading out for the night shift on the rigs.

"Jeez, don't bite my head off. I just thought I'd give you a ride so you'd have time for dinner before you head to Buddy's. Matthew made catfish. And Harry has mastered quadrinomial equations."

Her eyebrow quirked up skeptically. "I wasn't born yesterday, Chase."

"Okay...'mastered' may be an exaggeration. But I can promise he'll be caught up by the time he transfers to a new school."

Sherry sighed and got into Chase's truck.

"You're mad because I signed with Carl instead of your girlfriend," she said before he'd pulled away from the curb.

"Not really. And she's not my girlfriend."

Sherry made a clucking sound.

"Jeez, you make me glad I never had a kid sister, if they're all a pain in the ass like you." He stole a glance at Sherry in time to see a faint smile flash across her lips.

"It's just that he can get me into Terry Jasper's backup band. That gig alone will pay me enough to quit both these jobs and move. I couldn't pass it up."

"No, look, Sherry, I'm behind you. Really. Anything that's good for you, I'm happy for. You still going to remember us when you're a star?"

Sherry punched his arm hard enough to hurt. "Dang," he exclaimed. "I hope he's going to teach you to act like a lady."

"Speaking of that. Why
isn't
she your girlfriend?"

Chase rolled his eyes. Trapped—even if he wanted to floor it, traffic heading toward Route 15 was choked with trucks, and he was stuck with Sherry for another ten minutes at least. "Well, I live
here
. She lives in another
state
."

"So?" Sherry shrugged. "Visit her between hitches. Lots of other guys have long-distance relationships."

That was hard to argue with. Given the ratio of men to women in Conway, most single men had girlfriends back home who they went to visit whenever they got the chance, driving for hours or crowding onto the few flights out of the tiny local airport. Long-distance relationships were the norm, not the exception, for oilmen.

"
I
don't," Chase said testily.

"Well, forgive me," Sherry said, but she didn't sound very happy. "Listen, I thought we were friends."

"We
are
friends."

"Yeah? Well, when are you going to tell me why you live like a monk up here? Is there some law against having fun where you come from?"

"Sherry, you know I come from the exact same place as the rest of the guys—"

"Yeah, yeah, Red Fork, Arkansas, home of the Fighting Bulldogs," Sherry said. "I know, I know. I feel like I went to your high school. What I want to know is, when are you going to get over losing your dad and realize you deserve to move on with your own life?"

"I'm not—"

"At least you had him until he was old," she said. "My parents... well."

She didn't cry. She never did. Still, Chase felt small for reminding her of the pain of her parents' accident.

He hadn't ever known his mother, but he'd had his dad his whole life, and now his father's legacy, which would allow him to do whatever he wanted. Sherry had a kid brother to worry about, and two jobs just to make ends meet.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was being a jerk."

Sherry shrugged. "I don't care if you're a jerk. I'm used to it. I just don't want you to be a pathetic jerk."

"Well, what am I supposed to do about it?"

"How the heck am I supposed to know? Look, I've already turned around my and Harry's lives this week. You're going to have to do your own. Only I'll give you a start, okay?"

"Yeah?"

"Two things." She held up two fingers. "Number one? You need to let go of what your dad thought. So you didn't see eye to eye. Okay. Now you get to do your own thing, which is what you've been telling me to do ever since we met."

"Point taken," Chase muttered. "What's the second thing?"

"Figure out this girlfriend thing," Sherry said, putting her feet up on the dashboard and trailing her hand out the open window. "Because you're just too darn pathetic by yourself."

*   *   *

Regina stirred her club soda with the little red and white straw the waitress had brought. The Tip Top was nothing like any truck stop she'd ever seen. Not that she'd seen that many. Other than driving past them on the way from Nashville to Chicago, a trip she made once or twice a year for family holidays at her parents' house, she'd never given them much thought.

But when Carl texted her to collect on her promise to have lunch, she'd chosen the establishment out of spite. It did have the tallest, and largest, sign in town. Under the pink neon star were the words HOT SHOWERS BEST COFFEE IN TOWN BREAKFAST SPECIAL PRIME RIB.

The lunch menu, however, did not feature prime rib. Regina scanned the offerings, planning to order the most expensive thing since she was going to make Carl pay for it, but since that was the "Driller's Special," which included four eggs, a New York steak, home fries, toast, and sausage, she was going to have to choose something else. Her stomach didn't really feel up for such a big meal.

To be honest, her stomach didn't feel up for much at all. After Chase left this morning, her day had taken a turn for the complicated. First, there was a call from Meredith, who peppered her with questions about the hiking and the views and the rafting. Regina, who made a policy of lying only when absolutely necessary, mumbled something about the weather having kept her inside, and catching up on her reading, and then pretended to take another call when Meredith pressed for details.

Next was a call from Priscilla, who was calling to brag that her six-year-old daughter had played the most complicated piece at her violin recital, and then forced Regina to listen as the child sawed and screeched her way through the piece over the phone. It was small consolation that the famous McCary talent appeared to have skipped a generation. Priscilla didn't ask about Regina's life, other than a quick "say hi to Curt" at the end of the call, which made Regina wonder if it was worse that her sister couldn't remember Carl's name, or that she forgot they were no longer dating.

Which made her think of Chase, of course, and the fact that he was still trying to please his father who had passed away. Was that what she was doing? Trying to impress her family at the expense of her own dreams? Surely not. She had worked so hard to carve out her own space. She had chosen country music specifically because her family knew nothing about it. In fact, they liked to pretend it didn't exist. Classical music was all the McCarys knew, and that was fine with Regina.

Except she'd been pushing herself so hard to succeed that she'd almost forgotten how to enjoy life, something she proved to herself when she decided to sit out by the hotel pool in the afternoon. After buying a stack of magazines and a bottle of sunscreen, she'd only lasted an hour before the sight of the moldy, cracked-concrete swimming pool, complete with water bugs and a vending machine that was out of everything but grape Fanta, became too depressing to bear.

She'd watched a little TV, resisting the urge to check email or take care of the thousands of work tasks piled up on her laptop, until it was time to get ready for dinner. She was down to two clean dresses, and she wasn't about to wear her favorite for Carl, though running her hands over the aquamarine silk did take her into a daydream that involved Chase tugging down the zipper with his teeth. By the time she touched up her makeup and headed out the door, she was ten minutes late.

But naturally, Carl was even later. It was one of the habits that, when they were dating, Regina told herself would improve once they moved in together. It never did. Carl would take calls in the car while she waited; he kept her waiting at restaurants and shows and concerts and parties. He was always apologetic, always swearing that it had been an "emergency." Well, she wouldn't have to worry about that any more.

When he slid into the booth across from her, she'd practically memorized the menu and gone through two more glasses of club soda brought by the sympathetic waitress, a sixty-ish type who was built like a schooner and insisted that Regina was too thin and ought to consider a cheeseburger. Carl was wearing a black shirt with gray piping and a curlicue embroidered over the pearl buttons. One anyone else, it might have looked fussy. On him, it looked like cowboy couture.

"So, babe," he said, leaning in for a kiss that Regina neatly deflected, so that his lips only brushed her cheek. "Let's celebrate."

"What are we celebrating?" Regina asked drily, but Carl either didn't catch her tone or ignored it.

"I've already had strong interest from several of the top labels," he said, leaning back in the booth with his hands clasped behind his head. "And that was just from playing Sherry's tape over the phone. Going to get her up into the studio next week."

"Good for you." Regina didn't even bother to try to sound enthusiastic.

"Hey, don't be like that. This is a success for both of us. After all, I couldn't have signed her without you. Tell you what. Let's go to the Bahamas to celebrate."

"I'm not going to the Bahamas with you!"

The waitress appeared, her pencil poised over her order pad, and looked from Regina to Carl and back. "You sure about that, honey? The man wants to take you somewhere nice..."

"I'm sure."

"Or the Alps," Carl continued as though neither woman had spoken. "I've always wanted to go to Switzerland in the summer."

The waitress's eyes widened, but Regina only set her menu down and sighed. "Just the club sandwich for me, please. On wheat toast."

"You're not fun," Carl accused.

"I don't know about that," a deep voice rumbled.

Regina whirled around in her seat. Chase had approached their booth and was glaring at Carl with his arms folded across his chest. He nodded to the waitress. "Hey, Ronnie, how's the knee?"

"Better, sweetheart, thanks for asking—you know these two?"

Chase shrugged. The expression on his face eased when his gaze skimmed from Carl to Regina. "Enough to say hi. Enough to know she's more fun than she thinks she is, anyway."

"Hey there," Carl said frostily. "Nice seeing you, though I'm surprised. I thought we settled everything this afternoon."

"You mean when you called me." Chase continued to look at Regina, while he spoke to Carl. "To let me know that even if I'd signed with Regina here, I could still change my mind and back out of the contract."

"Heh," Carl said, wincing.

Regina rolled her eyes. Such a Carl move.

"Well, I'm sorry to break up your little party," Chase said, digging in his pocket for his wallet. He peeled off a twenty and handed it to Ronnie. "That ought to cover their drinks. Unfortunately, Regina and I need to get going."

"Going where?" Carl sputtered.

"Oh right... that, um,
thing
," Regina said. She wasn't sure why Chase had come looking for her, after their wistful parting earlier in the morning. Maybe he just wanted to give her the message again... that he wasn't available. That it wasn't going to work out between them. Which she wasn't sure she could go through again. On the other hand, it beat sitting here with her slick ex-boyfriend, who couldn't stop competing with her even when he was trying to seduce her. "Gosh, I almost completely forgot. How careless of me! I'm so sorry, Carl, how about a rain check back in Nashville?"

She slid to the edge of the booth. Chase offered his hand, which she took without hesitation. Then she had a new problem—trying to ignore the flutter of sensation that went straight to the core of her when they touched.

"Now look here, Reggie, I get that you're a little peeved with me," Carl protested. "I maybe could have handled this a little differently. But that doesn't mean you have to fly off the handle and get yourself all wound up just to prove something to me. Look here. You want to sign this guy, fine. You win, fair and square. But you can take care of the paperwork later. The work day's done. Let's just enjoy ourselves."

"I can't believe you said that," Regina said. "Since when did the end of the work day mean anything to you? Do you know how many nights I had to eat microwave dinners in front of the TV because you didn't get home when you said you would?"

"Damn, Carl," Chase said mildly. "I guess your job must be a lot more interesting than I thought."

Carl shot Chase a thunderous look. "I don't know if your oil boy here told you, but they work twelve-hour shifts on the rigs, and that doesn't count the drive to the job site. It's not like he's going to make it home before dark either."

"Are you seriously jealous?" Regina demanded. She stabbed the table in front of Carl angrily with her finger. "For your information, Chase turned me down. He doesn't want to be a singer. He likes his job. So don't worry. He's not going to come to Nashville and compete with you for attention."

"Piece of advice, Carl," Chase said as he settled his hand on Regina's waist and guided her away from the table. "Try the fried chicken. Best in the county."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Just drive me out of sight," Regina said when Chase helped her up into the cab of his old red pickup truck. "A block or two should do it. I'll just walk back to my motel."

Chase started the engine without looking at her. "Girl, we're going on a road trip."

"We're doing
what
?"