Black Gold (6 page)

Today she'd put her hair up in some sort of complicated twist, but a few blond curls had come loose and cascaded around her creamy, white neck. As she hobbled along the uneven path in high-heeled leather shoes that gave a tantalizing peek of red-painted toenails, she waved at a mosquito that was trailing her. When it landed on her neck, Chase automatically reached to brush it away, and when his fingertips grazed her skin, she jumped.

She whirled around and stared at him, eyebrows raised. He could feel himself blush. "Sorry. Swamp skeeter."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Big old mosquito. I'd hate to see it raise up a lump.... uh." His face felt like it had heated up to five hundred degrees as he became acutely aware of another kind of lump that was threatening to rise. "It's just… we got some pretty fierce bugs around here."

"Is that right?" she said skeptically.

To cover his burgeoning discomfort, Chase cleared his throat and strode past her through the weeds around the path. As he approached the side of the trailer, he recited the Act of Contrition, a trick that had served him well when he was a teenager trying to focus on the sermon rather than the voluptuous choir director, who had been the focus of his earliest fantasies. "I detest all my sins," he muttered to himself, pretty sure that some of the things he'd been imagining doing with Regina counted as sins in at least half the counties in North Dakota.

By the time he pounded on the door of the trailer, he had himself a little more under control. The door swung open immediately. It was hard to recognize the girl standing there as the same one who'd taken the stage the night before, but Chase had seen the transformation many times, since Sherry had been working both jobs ever since he'd met her. She had her hair up in a ponytail, and her pink waitress uniform made her look even skinnier—and younger—than the cutoff shorts and cowboy boots had.

"Hey, Chase," the girl said. "Thanks for sending Harry back to Buddy’s to finish cleaning up. I don't want him cutting any corners. He needs to keep that job."

"It's no problem," Chase assured her. He knew that Sherry worried that unless her little brother stayed busy, he'd end up picking up bad habits and falling in with the wrong crowd and jeopardizing his future. "I promise to tan his hide if I catch him slacking off."

"Thanks." Sherry grinned. Then she noticed Regina standing several paces behind Chase and her face screwed up in what appeared to be equal parts terror and hope. "That her?" she whispered.

"Yep. Now, don't worry, she ain't bit me yet," he whispered back. Then he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, before turning around and beckoning Regina over. "Ms. McCary, please meet Sherry Dawkins. She'll be your ticket to fame and fortune if you've got the sense to take her on."

"I enjoyed your performance last night," Regina said, handing Sherry one of her business cards. "I'd like to talk to you about coming down to Nashville and seeing if we can get you signed with one of the big labels."

"I can't leave Harry," Sherry blurted, her hands tightening on the card and nearly crushing it. Chase winced. He knew how important this chance was to Sherry—and how terrified she was for her little brother's future.

"She means to say that she'd love to," Chase said quickly. "Harry will be just fine here with me. My next hitch doesn't start for a week—you can get Sherry down to Nashville before then, can't you?"

Regina's wide blue eyes flicked from Sherry back to him. Her full lips were parted uncertainly, and she ran the tip of her tongue nervously over the bottom lip, causing a small, molten earthquake to detonate somewhere in his chest.

"I… uh… really… it would be best if we made arrangements for the middle of the month or later," she said. "I have some conflicts in my schedule before then. But I can assure you I'll give you my full attention, line up some studio time as soon as—"

"Can't do it then. Has to be now." Chase knew what the odds were that he could get his schedule changed: zero heading to the negative numbers. With less than two months on the job, he wasn't the most junior man, but there were guys who'd been hustling a long time to get their hitches lined up so they could be home for birthdays, anniversaries, kids' graduations. He wasn't about to jeopardize any of their plans by requesting more time off.

Regina looked from Chase to Sherry and back. "Well... I suppose we could try to work locally. Maybe see if there's anywhere we can record a few tracks. For today, I was wondering if we could just talk. And I'd love to hear you sing some more."

Sherry nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, ma'am. It's just I've got to leave for work in about half an hour."

"Oh." Regina looked disappointed. "Well, we'll do the best we can, then. And tonight? Do you have plans?"

"Just with Harry. He's taking a summer school class, and I have to help him with his algebra and fix him his dinner and—"

"Sherry," Chase scolded quietly. She refused to look at him, but he pressed on. "How many times has Matthew asked you and Harry to come to dinner?"

The girl ducked her chin and her mouth wobbled. She suddenly looked much closer to being a child than an adult. "We don't take charity," she whispered.

Chase felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. "It isn't charity," he scolded, but he kept his voice gentle because he knew from experience what happened when he pushed Sherry too hard. She disappeared. Oh, she was still right next door, working two jobs and taking care of her brother, but she'd head the other way when she saw him coming or claim to be much too busy to talk. "This is your chance, Sherry. We've talked about that. Right?"

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Chase reached out and, very gently, tipped her chin up with his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Regina flinch. "Right?" he repeated, even more quietly.

Sherry nodded, a very small motion.

"How about this?" Regina said brightly. They both looked at her. She was speaking fast, her voice gone high and tight, and her smile didn't quite meet her eyes. "If arrangements can be made for your brother, I'd love to take the two of you out to dinner in town. Say, seven o'clock? Is that convenient?"

"That'll be just fine," Chase said quickly. "Though, you know what? I think I'll stay back with Harry and take care of the tutoring myself. I'm pretty good at math."

"Oh no you don't," Regina said, fixing him with a glare. "I asked
both
of you."

"Please," Sherry said quickly. Chase sighed, knowing he was beat already. He could, maybe, just maybe, resist one skinny hard-headed, crazy-talented girl he'd come to think of as like a kid sister. And—if he took a cold shower and hit himself on the head with a frying pan—he might possibly be able to turn down an invitation from a woman who dressed like Betty Boop and spoke with the voice of every dream he'd ever had since discovering he could order adult content when his dad left him in the hotel rooms.

But there was no way he could resist them both at once.

"Aw, hell—I guess I could stand to eat."

"Excellent!" Regina clapped her hands together. "So, Chase and I can talk now, and get all of our boring business out of the way. And tonight we can focus on
you
." She beamed at Sherry, who looked both terrified and elated.

"Miss McCary," she said, "thank you. I mean, thank you so much, really. You don't have any idea what this means to me. Even just a chance."

"You're a talented young woman," Regina said. "You've got a great future."

Together, Chase and Regina watched Sherry run around like a cyclone, searching for her purse and keys and sunglasses before she sprinted for her car. Her old sedan didn't look like it could make it across the yard, much less all the way into town, and the engine had a dispiriting coughing fit before it finally fired all the way up, but as Sherry drove off down the road she gave the horn a tap and waved out the window.

"Hell of a gal," Chase said. "She's going to make you a lot of money some day."

"Stop trying to distract me," Regina said.

"Excuse me?"

"The whole reason I came out here? Remember? I want to talk about
you
."

They were still standing in front of the Tar Barn. Sherry had left the door unlocked again, a habit she was having a hard time breaking. Before her parents' accident, they'd all lived in a house out in the middle of the land Sherry's father helped farm, where the odds of anyone coming by, much less breaking in, were tiny. Of course, hardly anyone came out to the ranch, either, other than the crew from Arkansas who had taken up residence in the bunk house.

Speaking of which... Chase ventured a peek in the direction of the house, and wasn't surprised to see that Jayne and Matthew had wandered out on the porch. Matthew was pretending to hang laundry on the line strung between two trees, which was a dead giveaway because after wrecking an entire load of towels when a strong wind blew them off the line, he'd stuck to the industrial sized dryer in the laundry room. As for Jayne, she wasn't even bothering to pretend. She sat in one of the rocking chairs watching them, a book unopened in her lap. Seeing Chase glance over, she waved and gave him an encouraging smile.

"Let's walk," he said brusquely, turning his back on the house. He grabbed Regina's hand and led her down the dirt path in the other direction. Past the trailer and through the little woods, it continued into the fields.

"Slow down," Regina said, struggling to keep up with him. The shoes: he'd forgotten her ridiculous shoes. The pointy heels were getting stuck on every rock and weed and root, and if she wasn't careful, she was going to wind up facedown in the weeds.

"It's not far," he said. "I don't suppose you could try going barefoot?"

She looked at him in horror, as though he'd suggested she strip off her clothes and go the rest of the way naked. Back on the porch, Jayne had set her book on the windowsill and was starting to make her way toward them. Great—just what he needed. Chase knew that his friend was just trying to help, but the last thing he wanted was Jayne coming over and singing his praises. After all—though he was having trouble remembering why—he was trying to get rid of this woman, not win her over.

"In that case..."

He had one hand around her waist and another behind her knees before she could react. Then she was up off the ground, settled pleasantly in his arms, her curves just right in his grip.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked.

"Helping," he said through gritted teeth, as he stalked down the path, trying to ignore the faint scent of her perfume, the view of her breasts now pressed against his chest. "Don't want to mess up those nice shoes of yours."

"But I—we could—you can't—"

By the time she finished sputtering, they had arrived at the tree house. With a trace of regret, he set her down. She blushed and dusted imaginary dirt from her skirt.

"You think you can handle the climb?" he asked. "Because otherwise, way I see it, we got two options. You can either come up piggyback, or I can lower down the rope and—"

"I'm fine," Regina said, refusing to look at him. She took a deep breath and grabbed the first of the boards nailed to the tree generations ago, when Mimi's departed husband had been a little boy. She put the toe of her shoe tentatively on the board near the bottom of the tree and boosted herself up. She kept going, and Chase enjoyed the view of her hips straining against the fabric as she edged up the trunk.

A few feet up, her shoe slipped on the board and she gave a startled squeak.

"Easy, girl," Chase said, automatically reaching for her. He found himself with one hand on the small of her back and another cupping the rounded cheek of her ass. It was both firm and deliciously soft, even through the nubby fabric of her skirt, and he couldn't resist tightening his fingers on her flesh.

She kicked him, her heel grazing his shoulder.

"Hey!" he yelped as she scurried the rest of the way up to the platform above his head with no further hesitation. "An inch to the side, and you could have taken out my jugular! Those heels should be classified as deadly weapons!"

"Then you shouldn't have assaulted me," Regina called over her shoulder, disappearing into the little wooden structure.

Chase stood for a moment, his fingers tingling from the feel of her. "I was just trying to save you from falling," he protested. He was rewarded from silence from above.

It was true, though. Well, at least until the moment when he had her in his hands. God, had it really been so long since he'd held a woman that even a handful of scratchy fabric could get him hot?

He shook his head and headed up the trunk.

It was awkward going, because the boards were nailed close together. Chase guessed that Earl Brackens had been only ten or twelve when he found the scrap lumber and nailed it into place up in the tree. It was a good tree, made for dreaming away summer days, and if young Earl's carpentry skills had left a little to be desired, it had taken Chase only a single afternoon to sand down the splinters and pound the popped nails back into place and patch a few holes. He'd told himself he was doing it for Harry—but the younger Dawkins was more of a skateboard kid than a tree house type. Besides, at fifteen, he had better things to do than while away his afternoons high in a tree.

Chase, however, had never had a tree house. By the time he was ten, he'd had fois gras, champagne, and smoked his father's cigars and stolen peeks of his father's girlfriends' lacy underthings in the suitcases they left out in the adjoining rooms. But he'd never ridden a bike or gone to a Cub Scout meeting or joined a pickup ball game.

It took Chase most of his twenties to make up for all the things he'd missed. The day he turned eighteen, he took a job as a dishwasher and a room in a run-down house where he bartered household chores and handyman projects for rent. He learned soccer from some of his restaurant co-workers and listened to ball games on the radio. He bought a secondhand bike and learned to ride in a parking lot after dark, too embarrassed to ride in public until he could stay on the bike without falling. He learned to cuss and ogle women and smoke cigars and play cards, and when he started picking up singing gigs a few years later, he learned to drink whiskey and wear a hat and charm a woman twice his age.