Red Hot Blues (17 page)

“Hey, before you go.”

“Uh-huh?”

“I got someone that’s willing to take my case
on pro-bono.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.” I hear the tears of joy in her
eyes. “Met him at the bar.”

“Oh!”

“No, it’s not like that. He’s married. Good
guy. And, well, he does this kind of stuff. He said he’d look at
it. I met with him yesterday. And he said he’d do it. He’s putting
things together. He thinks we might not even have to go to court. I
might—” She snaps, starts crying clearly. “I might actually get to
see my little boy, unsupervised, by the end of the week! Just me
and him! It’s not the same when someone’s looking over your
shoulder, Gin. I’m his mother for chrissake!”

Now I’m crying as well, sitting outside this
miserable hospital, on a hard and cold stone bench. Weeping. Tears
of joy. Tears of happiness.

“I’ll be there for that, Lay. Just give me a
day’s notice.”

“Oh, bullshit! Be with your man!”

“He’s not my man, Lay.”

“So what is he? You guys are on a road trip
together. He’s crying on your shoulder.” She whispers the next
part: “He’s
fucking
your brains out. So what is he?”

It dawns on me, how serious this has gotten.
How far this has gone. Too serious. Too far.

Maybe it’s the stress of what’s happening
around me. Someone dying. The good news from Layna mixed with the
screams of Ace’s mother, my mother, that aching loneliness I’ve
felt over the years. Maybe it’s all of that—but out of nowhere, I
suddenly think of Brett Lexington.

There’s nothing left to say but “Shit.”

Somewhere along the line, with Ace, I let go,
I stopped looking out for my emotions. Somewhere along the line I
dropped the ball. And now here I am. Exposed.

“Shit.”

“You said that already.”

“Promise me you’ll be there for me when I
fall, Lay.”

“You’re not gonna fall.”

“Just...promise me. We both agreed this
wouldn’t be a permanent thing.”

Silence.

She sighs. “I’m happy for ya, Gin. I know you
can make it happen. From what you’ve told me, it sounds like he’s
got it deep for you. Make him realize it.”

I shake my head. This is so out of my league.
“I wish you were here.”

“No, you don’t. Because then I’d get in the
way. Unless you’d want to give me a piece of that hunk of meat?
Maybe a little ménage à trois?” She tries to sound French, but it
comes out sounding like Sookie Stackhouse from
True
Blood
.

“Not a chance!”

“Didn’t think so. Well done, babe. I ain’t
the one to give you relationship advice, because I suck at it. But
I
can
tell you that if I were you I’d be riding him all I
could.”

I can feel myself blush. I say nothing.

“I’m sure he’s
amazing
in bed—”

“Lay, stop it!” I almost shriek it.

“Well, I do need details, honey. Plenty of
em!”

Silence again, while my mind whirls at the
impending loss, the fear, what’s going to happen next.

“You’ll be there for me?” I check again.
“When—
if
...it all fails?”

“I will. I promise you. No matter what.”

The memories were too sharp, too close, too
reminiscent.

I start thinking of mom, all those years we
had on the road, the times I heard her tears behind the closed
doors of her bedroom. But I never
saw
those tears. I’d knock
at the door, and when she’d see me, she’d have wiped them off. And
she’d smile. She always smiled for me. Was always there for me.

She always kept up her best front for me.
That’s all that can be asked of a mother, isn’t it? At the end of
the day, it’s not the money, not the comfort, it’s the love. It’s
the thought that, no matter what, mommy will make it OK. How?
Because mommy is Superwoman, of course.

I call her.

“Honey, where are you?”

“Hey, mom. What’s up?”

“You sound down. Everything OK?” How she
knows these things so quickly is still beyond me.

“Yeah, everything’s cool. I just...wanted to
tell you that...I admire you...for everything you’ve done for
me.”

Silence. Then, “W—well, sure— Honey, are you
sure
you’re OK?”

My eyes sting. And cool air brushes past
them. “I’m fine. I just wanted to let you know that. Y’know, after
all that happened, y’know, when I was five...”

When I was five
.

I hear her clear her throat. “Right, well—”
She stops. I know I’ve brought up a tough subject. We never speak
about it.

“I love you, mom.”

Weakly: “I love you, too, my baby. Now where
are you?”

“In Virginia.”

“In Virginia! When—”

“It’s just for a day or two, mom. I’m
with...a friend.”

Friend
didn’t come out right... Mom
gets it. Her voice takes on a suspicious lilt. “Oh, a
friend
?”

“Yeah, a friend!”

“Goooood. Good for you, honey.
A...
male
...friend?” She already knows the answer.

“I’m gonna go, mom.”

“Fine, fine.”

“I’ll come by on the weekend. Or maybe
Monday.”

“The weekend’s not good, Gin. I have
a...
friend
...coming through. Big business man. You
interested in moving to Chicago?”

A friend.

“No, I’m pretty happy in Nashville, mom.”

Silence. “Well, yeah, yeah. I see...” I hear
the cogs creaking as she thinks something over. Hesitantly: “Well,
maybe I’ll tell him to reschedule.”

“As you wish mom. It’s your life.” As I say
it, I realize that it’s not. It’s never been only “her” life. I’m a
part of her life.

“Right,” mom says quietly. A pause. “Come
over on the weekend, baby. Now that I think about it, I don’t
really like this fella. I really don’t. Don’t even know why I
invited him here!”

Because you thought I wasn’t happy in
Nashville and you wanted to move me somewhere else.
“OK, I’ll
let you know when I come through.”

“When do I get to meet your
friend
?”

Maybe never.
“He, uhm, travels a
lot.”

“Oh.” There’s a little too much interest in
that
Oh
.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“OK, baby. Love you.”

“Love you, too, mom.”
Love you so
much.

Ace storms out the hospital looking like a
category two hurricane. Black leather jacket. Unlit cigarette in
his hand.

I can see his bike from where I’m standing. I
know that’s why he came out here. I know this is it. I know this is
the moment he needs to run, to get away, to clear his head. To be
gone for a few months. Thinking.

He hasn’t seen me yet. I’m on his right,
almost hidden by some bushes and plants. I look down at the cement
floor, brush my feet against it. I don’t want to see him drive
away. I just want to see him driving back into Nashville, and then
we can be friends, and go out for coffee, or maybe for chips with
carb-loaded dips. And a Pale Ale.

The wind rushes in my ears, and I wait for
the roar of his Harley. I hear the flick of a Zippo, a flame, then
the clocking of his boots on the ground.

I’m gonna miss you, Ace.

“Gin? Gin! Gin, where are you!?”

Huh?

“Here.” It comes out as an almost inaudible
whisper.

He flings around,
races
toward me! He
lifts me up from the bench and bruises me with a hungry, desperate
kiss. (Thank god I packed toothpaste and a toothbrush!) He doesn’t
stop kissing me, has his hands all over my back, his cigarette long
since on the floor. He pushes me against the bench and I fall back
again, sitting on it once more.

He extends his hand out to lift me. “Let’s
go.”

“Go where?”

“Away. Away from here. Away from all this
shit. You and me. Let’s go!”

“You...and
me
?”

“Yes, I can’t go without you, Gin. I never
wanna be without you. But I can’t stay either. I— Please, just come
with me! I have to get out of here. I can’t stand this. Too many
memories. Too much history here. I hate this place. Fucking hate
it!” He swings around, finds a trash can,
flings
it out onto
the street with a clang! Trash and paper and the can itself roll
out onto the road as if this were the beginning of a street
riot.

I jolt. He runs his hands through his
jet-black hair.

He turns back to me, whispers, “I’m sorry.
I’m sorry. Just...come with me, Gin. You and me. The road. The air.
No responsibilities.”

“You can’t run from this, Ace. Your family
needs you.”

We stare at each other forever.

“Maybe you
need
to stay in this spot.
Just for a few days. Maybe you need to help your mother get back on
her feet. Maybe, this time, you shouldn’t run.”

Utter desolation flashes across his eyes.
This is the hardest thing anyone’s ever asked him to do. To stay.
To face it.

An orderly comes out and puts the trash can
back in place.

My and Ace’s eyes never leave each
other’s.

Wind howls. Some newly arrived people mumble
on their way into the hospital.

And then, so quietly: “I can’t.
I...can’t.”

“You can. I’ll stay with you.”

He runs a hand down his face, thinking about
it. “You would?”

“I would.”

“Don’t leave me here alone, Gin. I can’t do
it alone.”

“I won’t.”

“I can’t do it alone.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I hated him, Gin. I fucking hated him. But I
also loved him, you know?”

“I know.”

“He was my father.” His eyes glimmer with
poignant heartache.

“I know.”

“And now he’s gone. And I never said goodbye.
But I didn’t want to say goodbye. I didn’t want to say
goodbye!”

“It’s OK, babe.”

He turns. Screams, “I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING
ASSHOLE! I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

The words echo back at us, a ghost voice
hating us in return.

I move to him slowly, wrap my arms around his
waist. My chest to his back.

He breaks out into deathly gasps of decades
of pain.

He turns. Holds me. Runs his fingers through
my hair. Presses me against his chest.

“I love you, Gin. I
so
love you.”

I’m so stunned that I don’t even say it back.
I just hold him, hold him, hold him.

Oh god, this is so incredible.

I love you too, Ace. I love you, too.

The next few days are rough. Ace’s mom is
sedated at the hospital. Ace is looking into the farm’s
accounts.

They’re a mess. A complete mess. His mom
wasn’t kidding when she said his dad was good at keeping the bank
manager at bay. How they haven’t gone under yet is a miracle, he
says to me.

In desperation, he calls his oldest sister
(two years his junior), because she studied business and he figures
maybe she can help. He and Fiona don’t get along. And that becomes
apparent when I hear the phone fight that ensues from within his
father’s stately office, where Ace, my biker boy, has taken
temporary residence while he deals with all this shit.

The house has servants, and I feel totally
weird about being brought my food by them, so on the second day I
muscle my way into the kitchen despite protests, and I cook my own
damn meal! As well as everyone else’s. I make everyone sit in the
dining room table and we all have lunch together. I don’t care if
they’re getting paid. It just doesn’t feel right.

I’m told very quickly that I’m welcome in the
kitchen anytime, so long as I also do the dishes.

Har har.

Violet, the head cook, shows me how to make a
Brunswick Stew. She then tries to teach me how to make a marble
cake, but that’s too far out of my league.

Ace and I are sleeping in the guesthouse. The
sex is hot, desperate, quick. A hormonal release after an
overwhelming day. I feel his tension, his desire to run, and feel
completely the strength of will it’s taking him not to do so.

I decide to wait until his mom’s released
from hospital and until his sister, Fiona, arrives so that he won’t
collapse by mere fact that all the financial burdens are now on his
shoulders even though he never asked for them.

Ace brings up my leaving and going home a few
times, tells me there’s no reason for me to stay. That he can
handle it alone.

But I know that if I go, he’ll collapse.

I start getting the idea that I know him
better than he knows himself—at least on this subject. Ace has been
running for years. And I’m OK with him running, but I don’t think
he’d be able to live with himself if he let his mother’s
livelihood, his sister’s, and Aaron’s family’s go down the chute
because he couldn’t stand up to the pressure.

I decide I’ll stay. And I know that doesn’t
mean he and I will remain together, or that his warnings of wanting
to run will now change. But I know I bring him
some
peace by
being here with him.

He does the same for me. A mutually
beneficial relationship that will one day downgrade to a deep and
lasting friendship. I can live with that. I hope.

He brings up leaving one more time—
him
leaving,
us
leaving, together—after a day that I know took
its toll on him.

His lips tremble as he tells me.

And I just kiss them.

I just kiss the pain away.

I call Layna and she tells me she hasn’t seen
Kenny Ray yet. There’s been a hiccup, and things are not looking as
promising as they were before. She sends me my workload over and I
manage to do it on an extra laptop that Ace’s dad had lying
around.

A week becomes two. My mom never did see her
Business Man for that date, even though I wasn’t there to visit her
and be the excuse for her not doing it. When I call her, she tells
me, “Well, honey, maybe I’m just gonna stay put for a little while.
This place has grown on me. And a man now would get in the way of
that.”