Loving Dallas (15 page)

Jase gives me some intense side-eye. “I had some earlier. Tasted fine to me.”

“Well, that batch had to be bad. They even smelled weird.”

“You think so?” He’s still scrutinizing me as if I am an alien life-form to be studied beneath a microscope. “You know, when Aubrey was pregnant with Mac, she couldn’t stand the smell of oranges. It was the damnedest thing. She used to love them. Then she got pregnant and said they smelled like kitchen cleaner and I had to keep her out of the produce section for fear she’d get a whiff and puke all over aisle five. We couldn’t even keep OJ in the house anymore.”

My mouth gapes open. What the hell does my spitting out a rancid rotten cherry have to do with his wife’s pregnancy and aversion to—

I feel as if my head is detaching from my body and floating up into the sky like a wayward balloon.

I don’t want it to be true but it’s entirely possible. I know it is. I knew the day I stood in my bathroom realizing I had two more birth control pills than I should have had after getting home from weeks of traveling for work. After having unprotected sex with Dallas. More than once.

I doubled up my next two doses but then I googled that and saw that it wasn’t necessarily effective or even a good idea.

Likely noting my distress, Jase takes my arm much more gently than he did when he almost knocked me over. “I think you’ve had enough fun for one evening, darlin’. I’m going to call us both a cab so we can get—”

“No. I’m fine. It’s just this stomach bug. I need to get back inside. Excuse me.”

Without another word, I stride quickly away from him and toward the throng of people flowing in and out of the ballroom.

Halfway across the room, I run smack into a couch where Dallas is sitting surrounded by executives and half-dressed women snapping pictures with him. A bottle blonde in a sparkly blue dress is in his lap. She looks comfortable. Like she’s been there awhile.

The small amount of lunch I’ve managed to keep down rises in my throat and I have to get to the ladies’ room or risk covering the entire couch and its occupants in puke.

On second thought . . . no. I’m better than that. I clench my jaw and try to swallow the excess saliva filling my mouth.

“Robyn, hey. There you are. You did an amazing job with the—”

I hold a hand up and shake my head. I can’t talk to whoever is trying to get my attention. Dallas looks up when they call my name but I avert my gaze.

I can’t do this right now.

All I can hear is Jase Wade in my head telling me about his pregnant wife as I run through the crowd, elbowing people out of my way in hopes that I make it to the bathroom in time.

I
didn’t even eat that much today. Apparently my stomach decided to hang on to a week’s worth of meals to toss into the toilet.

Leaning against the side wall of the bathroom stall, I place a trembling hand to my forehead.

My head pounds and my throat is raw, but that’s not what’s concerning me the most. Jase’s words play over and over.

Then Dallas’s question at my apartment.

“Are you late?”

I kept telling myself it’s the stress. The traveling.

It isn’t the first time I’d skipped a period or two. But I’ve never felt like this before. Weak. Drained. Constantly nauseated and repulsed by smells that I barely even noticed before.

For a fleeting second, I wonder if maybe it’s something else. Cancer runs in my family on my mom’s side. Jesus Christ. If my brain is trying to reconcile this by reassuring me that it could be a fatal disease instead, I am even more screwed up than I thought.

Stepping out of the stall, I see one of the girls from Dallas’s estrogen-filled entourage heading into the stall beside me. I ignore her and turn on the sink in front of me. Rinsing my mouth and checking my hair for puke, I catch a glimpse of my ashen skin in the mirror.

My face looks gaunt, the skin beneath my eyes sallow and puffy.

If I get fired for blowing off my responsibilities at this party I have a promising career as a corpse on any crime show that will have me.

My purse is checked in the coatroom so I can’t really do anything about my horrifying appearance except splash some cold water on my face and dab at my smudged eye makeup with a paper towel.

“It reeks in here. Don’t you work here? Can’t you do something about that?”

Dallas’s groupie has joined me at the sink. Oh goody.

“Yeah I’ll get right on that.”

“Oh, and there are no more of the little blue shots. They’re so good. You might want to get on the waiters to send more of those around.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

She begins adding more black eyeliner to already overly lined eyes. I silently hope her hand slips and she stabs herself right in the retina.

I frown at my own reflection. First I cry all over Wade’s tragic turmoil, then I fantasize about gouging some random chick in the eye. I am so not this person.

Am I?

I have to get out of here.

After drying my hands briefly, I shove the door open.

“Hey.” Dallas stands there as if he’s waiting for someone.

“Hi.” I narrow my eyes because I don’t know if it’s me he’s out here for or the girl coming out behind me.

When she winks at him on her way by and he doesn’t so much as glance in her direction, I have my answer. But I can’t do this with him. Not here.

His button-up dress shirt is so dark blue it looks black and seeing him in perfectly tailored charcoal-colored dress pants is confusing. Dallas is flannel and denim for the most part. Hoodies and backward ball caps. Maybe I’m still confusing him with someone that I used to know instead of who he is now. Maybe I don’t know him at all anymore.

He takes a long pull from his beer bottle, the light glinting off his shiny black and silver watch, before stepping into my path. “Can we talk, please?”

I shake my head. “Pass. You need to get back to your groupies and I have to find my boss.”

“Hey.” His fingers are warm beneath my chin. “What’s going on? You look like hell.”

“Thanks. So much for chivalry, huh?” I jerk my chin out of his hand and turn away from his searching gaze. “Feel free to return to your non-hellish-looking fans now.”

“Wait a second. That’s not what I meant. Robyn?”

I can hear him and I can feel him close behind me in the crowd but I keep going, walking toward the coat-check room without acknowledging anyone as I weave through a sea of overly perfumed bodies. My stomach threatens to turn on me again and I decide to text Katie instead of trying to find her or Mr. Martin to let them know I’m not feeling well.

No one is manning the coatroom so I walk in and begin searching for my black leather jacket and matching bag.

The door clicks shut from across the room, where Dallas stands glaring at me.

“You want to tell me what that was about?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I return to shuffling through coats on the rack.

“Well, you were busy having a moment with Wade out on the balcony so I mingled like you told me to do. After which you run by shooting me a death glare that should’ve killed me on the spot. Then you come out of the ladies’ room looking like you’re recovering from a three-day drinking binge. Now you’re behaving as if speaking to me rationally is beyond your limits of capability. So I’ll ask you again.” Dallas comes closer, plucking my jacket from a rack and holding it open for me. “What the hell was that about?”

“I’m just stressed. And tired. This party was a lot of work. But I’m fine now.”

“Well, I’m glad. Because we need to talk.”

“Can we talk later? I’m beat and I’m just going to—”

“Just going to what, Robyn? Lie to me? Keep something huge from me, like, oh, I don’t know, your mom having fucking cancer? Because let me tell you, finding out something like that just before a show wasn’t distracting at all.”

I close my eyes to shield myself from his wrath.

Shoving my own ire down deep, I turn and let him help me with my jacket. Dallas can’t let it go at that, though. He lifts my hair gently from beneath my collar and lays it over my right shoulder, giving him full access to the left side of my neck. He places a soft kiss on it and my traitorous body shivers.

“I’m not going to pretend I’m not angry, but seeing you all sick and fragile is softening my resolve to yell at you. Come back to my hotel room tonight. Stay with me. I missed you and we need to talk about this. About that summer.”

It’s tempting. I feel like death walking, and seeing that girl on his lap opened old wounds I’d been holding closed with all my might. But the thought of slipping so easily into the warmth of him, letting him hold me and make it all better, is enticing.

This must be similar to how drug addicts feel. I know it’s wrong. I know it will only cause more problems. I
know exactly
how much it will hurt the next time I have to see women groping him at a publicity event. But so help me, I am still tempted to crawl through the valley of the shadow of heartbreak. Naked.

I toss up a silent prayer for strength and step away from him. “There’s nothing to talk about. She was sick so I stayed home to take care of her. I didn’t want you to cancel any of your shows so I kept it to myself. Besides, I think I’ve got the stomach flu. I’m sure you can find plenty of willing bed-buddy candidates for the evening.”

“Maybe I would’ve wanted to be there for you, Robyn. You didn’t even give me a fucking chance.” Dallas snorts out a noise of frustration. “Don’t blow this off, like you actually give a shit about a bunch of girls hanging around the next big thing for all of five minutes until the next shiny new guy comes along? Come on. I thought you knew better by now. You’re the one that told me to play the part and keep what was going on with you and me under wraps. Remember?”

“The one on your lap looked dedicated. She seemed willing to hang around a lot longer than five minutes.”

“Cut the crap, Robyn. You know I’m not interested in any of them.”

“Don’t,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t make me seem crazy. I’m not overreacting or making a scene. You’re the one chasing me down here. They were all over you and you were lapping it up like a stud in the pasture.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

I gawk at him in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Are you?”

We’re yelling now but I can’t figure out how to defuse the situation.

“No. I’m not. I’m supposed to be here to do my job and that’s pretty hard to do watching the person I’m sleeping with getting molested in front of me. I’m having a hard enough time trying not to gag all over the place as it is. You were right. We shouldn’t have crossed that line because now we can’t go back.”

“I’m here doing my job, too, damn it. And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Go back? You want to unfuck me?”

“I want to unknow you. I want to go back in time and never freaking speak to you. It always ends like this, no matter how hard we try or how many things we try to do differently.”

“What do you want me to do, babe? Tell the next woman that touches me to keep her goddamn hands to herself? Do you have any idea what that would do to my career? Who do you think buys my music? Have you paid attention to who’s filling those seats at every show? This is part of it. This is the gig, sweetheart. You’re the one who planned this fucking party for this very reason. I thought you got that.”

“No.” I shake my head and wipe the tears threatening to spill from my eyes before they can fall. “The party is to celebrate the music, the sales, and—”

“It’s the same damn thing!” Dallas throws his hands up, looking at me like I’m brain dead and he’s tired of dumbing everything down for me. “It’s me. That’s what I’m selling here. Me. I need them to buy into me as an artist. I can’t do that by being an asshole to them.”

He’s about to reiterate his whole “Performer Dallas” versus “Person Dallas” spiel but I just can’t hear it right now.

“Go on and get back to your party, Dallas.”

“You want me to leave?”

I nod. “I do.”

“You sure? I just want to be clear so if I go you don’t hold it over my head for the next five years.”

I have no words.

None.

The bile burns too hot, sending an acidic searing sensation through my chest and into my throat.

When I finally find my voice, it’s eerily even. “Do not throw our past into my face. I have never held anything over your head. If anything, I let you off the hook too easily.”

Dallas smirks and shakes his head. “What fucking hook, Robyn? You dumped me, remember? Instead of letting me be there for you, you lied to me—kept something huge from me. And
you’re
the one who gets to be pissed? I’m throwing the bullshit flag on that one.”

I blow past him and out of the room like a wayward hurricane of hellfire. I am not doing this at a work-related event. Moreover, I can’t. Because I’m about to be sick again.

I make it outside to where valets in red vests are retrieving cars before I vomit in the bushes beside the building.

The entire world spins, kind of how my life is spiraling out of control while I’m powerless to stop it. All I can do is kick my purse out of the way, brace my hands on my knees, and let it come.

30 | Dallas

W
HY
I
’M FOLLOWING A WOMA
N OUTSIDE WHO CLEARLY WANTS
nothing more to do with me, I can’t be certain. But I do know that something is wrong.

I’ve never seen Robyn that pale or that hateful. She’s been pissed at me before, sure, but this was a whole new level that felt dangerously close to actual hatred.

I don’t know if I could live with myself if Robyn hated me. And I know I definitely couldn’t live with myself if I let her go home alone looking the way she did. I’m almost positive the anger was the only thing holding her upright. The protective instincts I’ve honed from years of being an older brother kick in and I press on through the partygoers.

If I could go back in time and stand up so that Carly or Callie or whatever the hell her name was wouldn’t have sat on my lap, I would do whatever it took to get there. The last thing I ever wanted was to be the reason for that wounded look in Robyn’s eyes. She can put on her angry face all she wants; that was pure unadulterated pain I saw while she yelled at me.

Once I’m outside where people are getting in and out of cars, I look around but Robyn is nowhere to be seen. Someone obviously had too many of the Midnight Bay blue shooters because I can hear them retching even over the music. When it continues to the point that I’m fearful for their life, I jog over to where the sound is coming from.

“Oh, baby,” I say once I see who it is. Robyn is bent over yakking into the bushes. The force is jolting her body forward hard. I grab her hair with two hands and pull it out of the line of fire. Once I have it secured to the nape of her neck with one fist, I use the other hand to rub circles on her back. “You’re okay, sweet girl. Just get it all up. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I don’t want—” She surges forward again and heaves but I think she’s out of ammunition. “You here,” she finishes.

“Well, tough shit, sweetheart. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t want anyone,” she begins, pausing to stand and wipe her mouth, “to see me like this.” I release her hair and she glances around. Noticing her purse on the ground, I pick it up. At least it didn’t get puked on.

“Come on. We’ll take one of the sober cars back to the hotel.”

I wrap my arms around her and guide her to the nearest valet. Once they’ve located a car for us, Robyn slides in and I follow.

The driver is a gray-haired man with a gray wool cap on. “Where to, kids?”

“The nearest urgent care center or ER,” I answer.

Robyn looks like I’ve slapped her. “No,” she practically shouts. “Just take us to the Hutton, please.”

“Are you serious right now?” This girl. She’s practically turning green right in front of my eyes. “We need to get you checked out.”

“The Hutton, please,” she tells the driver while ignoring me. “I swear I’m fine.”

“You say that, but you don’t look fine,” I tell her. “And if you think I’m just going to dump you off in your room, you’re crazy.”

The driver ends up taking us to the hotel, where I take Robyn to my room so she doesn’t keep Katie up all night.

After a pack of saltine crackers and two Gatorades, she takes a shower and comes out looking like a new person.

“I’m telling you, it’s just a stomach bug. It’s on its way out.” Robyn promises me she’s on the mend and that if she gets sick again like that she’ll make an appointment with her doctor.

She’s nearly asleep in my bed when she blinks her sleepy eyes up at me and says, “I’m sorry you had to leave your party. And that I didn’t tell you about my mom.”

“I don’t care about parties, Robyn. But can you just tell me why? Why you didn’t tell me about your mom that summer? I could’ve—”

“You could’ve canceled the shows you were so excited about. You would have.” Robyn sighs against my chest before raising her eyes to mine. “Your grandma had just passed and you’d already put everything on hold once. I didn’t want to be the reason you sidelined your dream again.”

“So you didn’t actually want to break up, you just couldn’t go on the road and you didn’t want me to stay?”

“I wanted you to stay,” she says quietly. “I just didn’t
want
to want that. It was selfish and unfair. And I wanted you to have your shot at your dream more than I wanted to have you hold my hand in a waiting room all summer.”

My whole life I’ve put everyone else first. My sister. My grandparents. Gavin. I’d never realized someone had been putting my dreams before their own needs.

I can’t explain how her confession makes me feel right now so I don’t try.

I lean down and kiss her on the forehead. “Get some rest, pretty girl. We can talk about this later.”

She surprises me by grabbing my shirt. “Spoon me for a while? Until I fall asleep? Pretty please?”

“I never could turn down ‘pretty please.’ ”

She rolls over, curving into me with her backside, and I drape my arm over her body.

More of my granddad’s wisdom comes to mind. “
A woman’s like a guitar, son. It’s all in how you hold her.
” After that he’d added, “
Get comfortable with her but never take her for granted, appreciate every single inch and curve. The imperfections are what make her unique, what make her yours.
”

“Please don’t hate me, Dallas,” she whispers. “I couldn’t stand it if you hated me.”

“I could never hate you, Robyn. Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

Jesus. I was mad as hell that she didn’t tell me about Belinda, but I didn’t say anything about hating her. Watching her drift off to sleep so peacefully after her night full of outbursts and erratic behavior makes me wonder if she’s a pod person or secretly has an evil twin.

But it was a sexy jealous evil twin and when she dozes off in my arms, I stay awake watching her to make sure the vomiting really has passed. By daybreak I’ve decided to keep her, evil twin and all.

R
obyn is still recovering from food poisoning or whatever the hell she had so she isn’t coming to the show in Nashville tonight. She texts me a “have a great show” message but when I respond by asking if I can come by her room and check on her after, she doesn’t answer.

Mandy told me to meet her on Wade’s bus before the show at the Woods Amphitheater at Fontanel. After making sure that Katie was in their room to keep an eye on Robyn, I left the hotel and joined far more folks than I expected on Wade’s fancy-ass bus.

The built-in furniture is all black leather and sleek marble surfaces. There’s a flat screen against the wall that’s nearly as big as the bunk I sleep on in my bus.

Wade sits leaned back in a booth across from his manager and a few guys from his band. Mandy, Ty, and Lex are here as well.

Barry Borscetti’s face is on the computer in front of them and he’s talking when I walk in.

“He’s here,” Wade’s manager, a husky guy named Rick, says when Mandy and I make our way over. “We’re good to go.”

“What’s going on?” I look to Mandy for an answer and she grins like someone with a secret.

“Dallas, we’re glad you’re here,” Barry says, drawing my attention from my manager. “Your agent has been filled in so the paperwork is already being processed.”

I feel like I’m missing the punch line to an inside joke. “Okay. Someone want to fill me in now?”

“It’s about the tour,” Barry says. “Jase has signed on for an international leg of the Kickin’ Up Crazy tour and we couldn’t be more excited. With the success of ‘Better to Burn’ and the enthusiasm for your upcoming album, we’ve decided to include you as well. Congratulations. This is going to be an amazing opportunity for both of you.”

“The exposure alone is going to skyrocket your career, Dallas,” Mandy whispers from beside me, wrapping her arm around mine and holding on tightly.

“Mexico is confirmed for three dates. Five shows in Canada,” Barry is saying as I tune back in. “Two shows in Rio de Janeiro and two London venues have committed. There’s a foundation supporting a campaign called Bring Country Music to the UK that is ecstatic about having you boys over there. We’ll have two shows in the Philippines, which will provide some photo ops with service groups that you’ll be visiting while you’re there. We’re still working with Australian vendors and should hear back from Tokyo today.”

“Sounds great, Barry,” Wade says. He sounds as tired as I feel but we both know how huge this is. Not just for us, or for this tour, but for country music.

Once upon a time, it was only in the southern United States, then it expanded to reach the rest of the country, and now it’s taking on the world. It’s surreal to be a part of that and I can’t even think straight as I imagine visiting those parts of the globe.

“Have a great show tonight, fellas,” Barry says before signing off.

“Well, this calls for another celebration,” Mandy announces. “I’ll have someone bring in some party favors for after the show tonight. We’ll see if Midnight Bay can help us out with that.

The mention of Midnight Bay reminds me of Robyn. I hope like hell she’ll be joining us for this leg of the tour. The craziest part? I can’t even imagine it without her.