Shifter Mountain: A BBW Paranormal Romance (2 page)

Chapter 2

Jordan Lawless hadn’t been to the Bluebird Café for quite sometime.  This was where he had started, though, when he first arrived in Nashville.  He had played on Mondays, at Open Mike Night for new songwriters, and then eventually made it to the early evening shows, playing for tips.

Jordan slipped right in through the front door,
taking off his cowboy hat to show good manners, without being bothered by folks who already had lined up outside, hoping that someone’s reservations would fall through. 

It wasn’t that no one would recognize him.  His handsome, rugged face was hard to get out of a woman’s mind, once she laid eyes on him, whether he was photographed in a magazine article, or whether she caught his latest music video.  Bu
t that’s just how it was in Nashville.  Country and Western stars mingled with the locals, shopped at the same supermarkets, and had breakfast at the same diners.   Generally the other city residents took it in stride. 

Jordan knew that if he lost sight of where he originally had come from, fame and money could ruin him.  Even without his meaning to let it.  He was finding that wealth could make you start to feel entitled in ways you never expected.  So he was careful to surround himself with a manager and entourage who were sworn to keep him honest.  He signed contracts with everyone that stated he couldn't fire anyone for at least two years for anything less than embezzlement or truly
egregious conduct.  What that meant, is that everyone around him was free to speak his mind, tell him off or put him in his place, without being afraid to lose his job. 

He had learned quickly that more temperamental celebrities tend
ed to surround themselves with Yes-Men.  Then they got hooked on pills and lost all their money.

Once inside
the Bluebird, Jordan took a look around the joint.  The place was small, with a bar in the back and a modest stage in the front.  But the waitresses were rearranging the tables, because tonight the musicians would be set up smack in the middle of the place.

Andrea, the manager who rememb
ered Jordan from way-back-when (as in, when he was a toddler) immediately became alert to the fact that their headliner had arrived.

She threw her arms around him.

“Oh my God, Jordan, I haven’t seen you since the funeral.”

Jordan sighed and hugged her back.  Andrea was like an aunt to him, having been a longtime friend of his mother’s.  His mother had passed away six months ago.

“How are you doing?” she asked him. “Really – how
are
you doing?  Don’t just tell me you’re doing fine.”

“It’s been a little hard,” he admitted. “A little weird, having no family left.
  Not that you’re not family, Andrea, but you know what I mean.”

Jordan
didn’t have to elaborate on the after-effects of watching his mother fight a long battle with ovarian cancer.  He had gone through a bout of heavy drinking, but he quickly realized that too many musicians had wrecked their careers that way.  Turning into a drunk was no way to honor his mother’s memory. She had raised him as a single mother, whisking him away from an impoverished life in rural Appalachia.  Everything he had attained, he owed to her working her fingers to the bone to give him a chance at life.

“I’m
actually working on my next album,” Jordan told Andrea.

“Can’t wait!” Andrea said. “Play
in’ anything new for us tonight?”

“I just might,” he said with a grin. “Actu
ally, I’m recording a cover of
High on a Mountain
.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice softening.
Andrea pulled back and gave her honorary nephew a look of approval.

“Are you now?  You’re not the
Bluegrass type, though.”

Jordan shrugged.

“Your momma would be proud.”

“I hope wherever she is – up there – she’ll be singing along.”

High on a Mountain
was classic Bluegrass, and it had been his mother’s favorite song. Livy Lawless had sung him to bed with it on more than one occasion, and he thought it would be fitting to honor her with it.

“That’s not all I’m doing, Andrea,” he said. “We’re gonna go up to Scopes Mountain to shoot the music video.”

At this, Andrea’s facial expression changed.  A look of darkness crossed it, and this confused Jordan.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why wo
uld you want to go back?  Your mother took you away from there as a child for a reason.”

“I know, I know,” Jordan said.  “But, I’ve always wondered about that place.  About my roots.  I know she ran from something bad.  From my father…But I can’t shake it.  I feel like if I do this – go back to that mountain – I might get some closure on things.”

“You should really think hard about this,” Andrea warned him.  “Sometimes the past really needs to stay in the past.”

Jordan always had the sense that Andrea knew more about his mother’s past than he ever would, but anytime he pressed her on it, Andrea clammed up.

“Well, I gotta do somethin’ – because here I am playin’ for tips again!” Jordan kidded her.

“You’re worth, like, $20 million, kiddo,” she chided. “So if you dare go diggin’ into those poor songwriter’s tips, I will fry your hide like spicy chicken!”

Jordan let out a hardy laugh.

When starting out,
like the hundreds of other aspiring musicians in Nashville, he had played not only at the Bluebird – but everywhere – just for tips.

Jordan
had played up and down Broadway, and over at the Five Points bars, and in every dark corner of ‘Music City’ he could find that would have him.  Then his big break came, and in a whirlwind everything changed overnight.  He was out on the road as the opening act for the biggest names in Country and Western music, and then within two years he himself was the Big Name.

The Bluebird Café sat in a strip mall across from another
shopping mall with a Whole Foods Supermarket.  If you blinked while driving down the street, you would miss it.

A strip mall was an unlikely place for such a famous venue, but
the Bluebird was sacred to musicians, songwriters and singers. Only 100 seats were available, with mostly no cover charge and only a $7 minimum.  But top-level music execs showed up regularly to check out the talent, and celebrity superstars always returned out of heartfelt nostalgia.  No one ever felt he or she was too good for the place. The Bluebird sold out every night with a mostly supportive audience.  Patrons had to book seats a week in advance – but you
only
had a week in advance to book.  Tonight’s show had sold out online in 15 seconds.

Tonight’s
event was In-the-Round with ‘Jordan Lawless and Friends.’  Four mikes were set up in the center of the Bluebird, like a 4-way lug wrench, so each of the four musicians/singers/songwriters would face each other. In addition to Jordan, his own favorite songwriter Trent Eaves would be there, along with his high school buddy, songwriter Jay McDowell. Jay’s wife, songwriter Melinda McDowell, would round out the quartet.

At the end of the set, w
hen Jordan decided to sing
High on a Mountain
for his last song, Jay McDowell switched out his guitar for a banjo, and Trent and Melinda joined in, singing in harmony, with a clarity that almost brought tears to Jordan’s eyes. 

He wasn’t just thinking of his mother.  He was watching Jay and Melinda, a husband and wife musical team who had made their marriage work in such a crazy town that ripped couples apart all the time. Their voices and lives mingled with each other, never falling prey to the temptations of infidelity that came out in force whenever one or the other was on tour with either Jordan himself or other bands.

Jordan wasn’t just missing the last of his family; Jordan wanted his own family, and he seriously doubted that the price he had paid to make it thus far as a C&W superstar left any wiggle room for that.

Stardom had meant he suddenly had his pick of women, and at first he enjoyed that as any red-blooded man probably would. Fairly quickly, however, he realized that he couldn't really trust any of the beautiful women he was surrounded by.  They wanted him for his money and his fame, but he was sure that if his popularity ever slipped for a moment, they would move on. Maybe some men could be fine with that, but for Jordan the whole scene had gotten old real fast.

Chapter 3

Jordan felt perfectly comfortable driving on the windy, mountainous road, while Bob Clark – the man who had directed Jordan’s last two music videos – wasn’t
so relaxed. The highway was now presenting hairpin turns, and Bob was used to more predictable, city terrain.  Already he had felt his ears pop as the truck ascended, descended, and then ascended again, around endless twists, en route to Scopes Mountain.

The day had sent a smattering of rain and thunder but then cleared up. Jordan cruised along at 70 miles per hour – right at the speed limit – as he let the car drift from the inner lane to the outer lane and back in order to lessen the sharpness of the curves. With the sunroof cracked, he felt sunlight finally breaking through, warming his right shoulder, while the rest of him remained in the full shadow of the cab.

“I’ll be honest, Jordan,” Bob said. “I’m not sure how this is really going to go.  These people don’t like outsiders.”

“Technically, I’m not an outsider,” Jordan said. “At least, I hope they’ll see it that way assuming someone is still around who remembers my mother.”

Bob sighed. The open sunroof was causing some wind buffeting now, which was unpleasant on the ears.  So he cracked a window to relieve the air pressure.  He had to admit the view was starting to become impressive.

Jordan guessed they would hit Scopes Mountain at midlevel, since clearly they already were well above sea level.  The Appalachian Mountains could be deceiving.  Some of the time it felt like you were only driving through some hills, because even the highway was so high up
you didn’t realize the full height of where you were.

The
y reached their destination within the next 20 minutes – Scopes General Store where a local statey had offered to meet them. State Police Captain Jimmy Bucks had won backstage passes to one of Jordan’s concerts a few months back, and the two men actually hit it off, especially when Jordan found that he was stationed in Scopes County.

Jimmy was off-duty, in plain clothes, leaning against a Jeep when Jordan and Bob arrived.

“Got your hiking shoes on, I hope?” Jimmy said, as the two men got out of the truck.

“Yep – ready for a long day, blister-free hopefully,” Jordan said.

“Is this going to be some real hiking?  We can’t drive up?”

“We’ll drive up a ways, then kick it into four-wheel drive for about a mile in.  To get where I really want to show you, though, that’s only accessible on foot.”

“That’s going to make it difficult to bring in camera equipment,” Bob told Jordan.

"Now, Jordan," Jimmy said. "Are you absolutely sure about this.  I know this is where you were born, but this is not, shall we say, the friendliest place in Tennessee for outsiders."

"I've already tried to talk him out of this," Bob said. "I grew up on stories about this place.  My grandmother called it 'Shifter Mountain'.  She said the people living up here could turn into bobcats and mountain lions.  Said she once saw it for herself when she was a little girl."

"You didn't tell me
that
part of the story," Jordan said.

"I saw something up here pretty weird one night, myself," Jimmy said. "I pulled up behind a drunk driver on the highway — not quite on Scopes — and he was weaving in and out, crossing the line. There are no
streetlights around here on the highway, and it was mating season for deer.  So, I pull on my lights and got him to pull over before he killed himself.  Well, I ran the plates, and then just as I got out of the cruiser, I swear I saw a goddamn hawk fly out of the window of that car.  And when I walked over to the driver's side, nobody was there."

"Seriously?" Bob said.

"I wrote up a report saying the driver had run off, which made me look bad.  But not as bad as if I reported the truth, and everyone thought I was on drugs. I was new at the time, and the other stateys teased me about it.  Later, after I got promoted to Captain, I told some of the guys about the hawk.  Then some of the other troopers started opening up about some of the weird shit
they've
seen around here."

"You're not going to spook me, if that's what you're trying to do," Jordan told Jimmy.

"Hey, I'm here, aren't I?  Helping you out even though I think you're a fool to care at all about this armpit of a mountain.  If the shifters don't scare you, try this: You think moonshine and Meth is bad around these parts?  Nuh uh. Try ginseng."

"Ginseng?  Like, the stuff in my vitamins?" Jordan asked him.

"Yeah, totally legal, but it grows all over the Appalachians and the Chinese are buying it from America, paying top dollar.  So local crooks trespass on private and state-owned land, diggin' up the stuff, then selling it to the highest buyer.  Guys are shooting each other up over this stuff. Going to prison. 
Over friggin' ginseng
!  This is the kind of weird shit I have to deal with now, never mind rumors of skinwalkers."

"What the hell does ginseng do you for you anyway?" Bob asked.

"It's an aphrodisiac.  A stimulant.  It is all things to all people," Jimmy said.

“We’re not leaving until we see the holler you're talkin' about
,” Jordan said. “I’m thirsty, though – let me run in and grab a soda. Either of you want anything?”

Bob shook his had no, and Jimmy said he was fine.

Jordan walked into the store, opening a creaky screen door that didn’t shut all the way behind him.

“Mornin’ to you,” said an old man reading a local newspaper.  At the very least he was the clerk, but probably the owner. The man scrutinized Jordan for a second, not unfriendly-like.

Jordan walked around the store and grabbed a root beer from the fridge, bringing it up to the counter.

“Can’t say I’ve seen you around here before,” the
old man said to Jordan, putting his paper down, but seemingly being in no hurry to ring up the sale.

“Actually, I was born around here, but
haven’t been back since I was a kid,” Jordan said.

The old ma
n, who must have been in his 90s, took a hard look at Jordan.

"Who's your family?"

"Lawless."

“You don’t say.
Lawless.  I knew some folks named Lawless back in the day.  Most have passed away at this point, and some moved away.  Though most folks live and die here on Scopes Mountain.  Rare that they move away at all."

"Life must be pretty good up here, then, if folks want to stick
around rather than move off to the city."

"Hmm," the old man said. He peered at Jordan a little more suspiciously.

"The men rarely leave, although sometimes we have a woman or two that want out."

This statement struck Jordan as a little odd.

"Lawless you say..." the old man pondered. "Both your parents were from Scopes?"

"Yes, sir," Jordan replied.

"What brings you back now?”

“Well,” Jordan said, “a little bit of business and also maybe some personal reasons.”

"Well, welcome back, I guess," the old man said. "That'll be 99 cents."

The clerk eyeballed him a little longer
while he made change for the ten-dollar bill that Jordan handed him. As far as Jordan could tell, the man still didn’t actually recognize him as a celebrity, but he felt uneasy about the fact he had the distinct impression the old man recognized more about his family name than he let on.

He grabbed the
soda and walked back out to rejoin Bob and Jimmy.  As he pulled out the keys to his truck, he saw a clunker of a Chevy pull up to the store, kicking up dust with its balding tires. The driver parked a bit aways from Jordan,  then rolled down her window, then reached her hand out to open the door from the outside handle.

Jordan couldn’t help but smile.
He hadn't always driven nice cars himself, and he remembered having a beat-up door of his own that once-upon-a-time he couldn't afford to fix.

The young woman got out
of her car and walked toward the screen door of the general store. She was plump and pretty, but had circles under her eyes like she hadn’t slept well for quite some time.  The way she moved was feminine, but also tired.

Bob had gotten back into the truck, and Jimmy was waiting in his Jeep.  Jordan hesitated, though, suddenly feeling like
he was in no hurry.

“My old car,” Jordan said to the woman when she got closer, “I had to do exactly the same thing.  The inside handle didn’t work
, and I couldn’t afford the repair.”

Kay
looked startled when she realized that Jordan was talking to her.  When her eyes met his, she felt her heart skip – a little in fear, but also with a little bit of something else that she couldn’t quite figure.

Jordan gave her a quick once-
over, not in an obvious or rude way, but the way a man does when he notices an attractive female.  She wore flip-flops and had covered her curves with a straight and plain long denim skirt, along with a plain, boxy men's T-shirt. But she could only cover up her figure so much; Jordan could still appreciate it. Kay’s hair was pinned up haphazardly, which only made her appear that much more unpretentious.

She wore no makeup, but Jordan felt she didn’t need any.  Her skin was s
oft and her features quite appealing, despite the fact that the expression on her face told him she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

It had been a long time since he’d run into a genuine country girl – and this woman was the real deal.

“I’m sorry – were you talking to me?” she asked, hesitant.  This man was a stranger, and she wasn’t used to seeing strangers around here.

“Your car – it reminds me of my old car.  I drove that thing into the ground.  I had to open the door from the outside as well.”

She glanced over at the bright red, wide-bed pickup truck where Bob waited for Jordan.

“That your car now?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a grin. 

Kay suddenly felt uncomfortable under his gaze.  Whoever this man was, he was looking at her with an intensity she could not interpret. The fact was, Kay had never been truly admired by a man before, as she was at this very moment, and she could not recognize that before her was a man who saw only the best
of her.

“Well, it looks like you don’t have any
more car problems these days,” she said plainly. “Looks like you must be doing pretty well for yourself.”

"I do alright," he said.

Jordan unexpectedly found himself hoping that this woman
would
recognize him.  He felt a need to impress her, although he knew that was probably a bit dumb. She'd either forget about him altogether if he walked off now, or she would figure out who he was soon enough.  Right now, in these very few minutes during which he was just a stranger, he would have his only chance of gauging if maybe he appealed to her — just a little bit — just as himself.  For the moment, he was just a country boy driving a nice truck.  That said, it seemed he wasn't doing so well, being just a country boy.  He was smiling at her pretty broadly, and she had given no trace of being inclined to smile back at him.

This woman
would be the second person today he had run into who simply didn’t know who he was, celebrity or not.  Jordan realized on some level that he should appreciate such moments of anonymity.  But the problem was, this gorgeous woman seemed to be pretty unaffected by him. It wasn’t that he was getting a negative vibe; he was simply getting NO vibe.

That’s when he noticed her wedding ring.

Shit,
he thought.

Kay felt unsteady
on her feet.  She had to walk carefully and slowly.  She felt a little better since what had happened three weeks ago, but the stiffness in her joints remained after such a terrible beating.

And now even just standing there to talk to someone was difficult. She hadn't
ventured away from the cabin since that awful night, being too scared to show herself in public.  Cephas had been seriously injured by her gunshot, and so it seemed he was taking time to recover before coming back for revenge.

Kay
was loath to go see a doctor for herself.  No one on Scopes Mountain trusted modern medicine, mostly because they simply couldn't.  For the men of the mountain, being skinwalkers meant they had biological anomalies that would be easy to recognize by a medical professional, and that just couldn't be exposed to outsiders. And the women were punished for venturing off the mountain for any reason.

"You're not from around here," Kay said, matter-of-factly.

"No, Ma'am," Jordan answered.

Kay found herself unwilling to extract herself quickly from this conversation, even though she should. The man speaking to her was tall and ruggedly handsome, in a casual sort of way.  He wore jeans and a T-shirt, with a brown leather jacket.  A baseball cap covered a thick head of light brown hair.  A slight hint of crow's feet around his eyes made her guess that he was in his early 30s.

Paranoia reared its ugly head.