Country: a novel Part 11

"Maybe."

"Is Michael giving you a hard time?" She shook her head instantly, with a wistful look in her eyes.

"No, he's real nice to me. It's just...well, you know...he's practically engaged to that woman. She wants him to buy a house with her. It's almost like they're married. He says he doesn't want to stay with her, but he hasn't done anything about it yet."

"She wants a lot of things," Chase said knowingly. "But 'almost' doesn't put a ring on your finger or win horse races. I told you to be careful. But that doesn't mean you won't get him. I saw the way he looked at you after the concert. That boy is crazy about you. If he says he'll get out of his relations.h.i.+p, he will." Chase sounded convinced. "Have you heard from him since last weekend?" Her eyes lit up when he asked.

"Yeah, about five times an hour." She laughed, and Chase grinned at her.

"I'd say that's a nice start. You didn't sleep with him, did you?" She shook her head emphatically. She wouldn't have done that while still involved with Bobby Joe. She was a girl with principles, and Michael respected her for it. Chase was pleased with her answer. "Good. Keep it that way. It'll drive him crazy," he said, smiling broadly. Not having slept with Stephanie was doing that to him. All he wanted was to put his arms around her and make love to her. He was obsessed with her. Sandy laughed at what Chase told her, and a few minutes later they started rehearsal again, and this time she got it right.

They broke for the night around midnight. Bobby Joe had waited for her, and he'd been drinking beer all through rehearsal. He was fairly well lubricated when they walked from Chase's house back to her cottage in the garden, and he sprawled out on the couch.

"You sure m.u.f.fed that the first hundred times tonight," Bobby Joe said, gloating at her. He loved it when she screwed up. It always made him feel better, and he never missed a chance to point it out. She remembered what Chase had said about him earlier in the evening. That he was going nowhere fast. He was a good-looking boy with a mediocre talent in music that wouldn't take him far.

"I needed to get the melody right, and learn the words. It came out good the last time." She seemed pleased, and Chase had loved it.

"You're lucky he lets you sing backup. He only does that because of who you are. You'd never get a job anywhere if you had to do it on your own."

"What makes you say that?" Sandy asked him, as she stood very still and watched him. He had just gotten up to help himself to a beer in her fridge.

"Everybody knows it. You're cute, babe, but not long on talent."

"Why would you say something like that to me?" She was outraged, especially after Chase's pep talk that night. "Just to make me feel bad and hurt my feelings?"

"No, because it's true. The truth always hurts." He shrugged as he said it, went and got the beer, and put the bottle to his lips. And then he glanced at her with a wicked grin. "Come on, baby, let's go to bed. I'm tired from listening to you sing all night. Let's have some action." He was treating her like a cheap s.l.u.t, and suddenly added to everything else he had said, it was just too much. She hadn't been looking for a showdown with him, but she had no other choice.

"You actually think I'm going to sleep with you after you say things like that?"

"What's the matter? Can't stand the truth, that Chase only lets you sing for him because he feels sorry for you and promised your daddy?" Bobby Joe was always mean as a snake when he was drunk.

"I may be a s.h.i.+t singer," she said with her chin trembling, and her eyes blazing, "but I'm not some cheap trick you picked up in a bar. You can't insult me, and expect to wind up in my bed. Get your a.s.s out of my house, Bobby Joe." And she meant it. He wasn't impressed.

"Why? You think you're too fancy for me, because Chase has money and you live here? Get real, baby, you're no better than I am, no matter where you live. You don't impress me. You're just a hillbilly from the gutter, like me."

"No, I'm not. And it's not where I'll wind up one day, like you. I work my a.s.s off, while you sit on yours drinking. You're not going anywhere, Bobby Joe, but straight downhill. I'm going to be someone one day, on my own, not because of Chase. And you're going to be nothing. And you can't treat me like s.h.i.+t and say mean things to me anymore, because you're jealous. You're nothing but a pile of s.h.i.+t with a mean mouth. Now get out of my house."

"Come on, baby, let's go to bed." He stood up unsteadily and tried to paw her, and she gave him a shove. He fell back on the couch and sat there, laughing at her while she shook with rage.

"You've got three choices," she said through clenched teeth. "I call Chase or the police, or you get your a.s.s out of here under your own steam. Your choice. You're a mean little s.h.i.+t, and I'm finished. I don't need someone to treat me like this. I'd rather be alone."

"You can't make me leave," he said c.o.c.kily, and she looked him right in the eye with a deadly calm.

"Watch me. You've been badmouthing me since you started going out with me. I'm done. Get out." She said it clearly, as she picked up her phone and pressed 9-1-1 for the police. As she did, he lunged at her, grabbed the phone, and disconnected the call.

"Don't be stupid." He was angry by then. This wasn't a fun game anymore. "Let's go to bed. You can blow me." She could see that he was really drunk. He was unpleasant when he was sober, but a lot more so whenever he drank. And he had gone over the line.

"It's over. Go home. And don't come back here. You can talk to Chase about if he still wants you to open for him." Bobby Joe looked panicked at that. She had gotten him the job.

"Come on, Sandy," he pleaded with her. "You know I love you."

"No, you don't. You treat me like s.h.i.+t, because you're jealous. Go find someone else to treat mean. We're finished." He got up off the couch then and hesitated. He made a sloppy pa.s.s at her, trying to get amorous and pull her toward her bedroom, and she pushed him away. "I don't need garbage like you in my life."

"Go f.u.c.k yourself, Sandy!" he shouted at her as he walked to the door and yanked it open. "I don't need you either." He slammed the door behind him, and Sandy walked to her room and lay down on the bed. She knew she had done the right thing, and she wouldn't miss him. He had been awful to her, and Chase was right. She didn't deserve it. No one had a right to treat anyone like that, drunk or sober. He'd been doing it for a long time, and she'd let him. He'd never laid a hand on her, but had beaten her up with his words, and tore her down every chance he got, to make himself feel better. She wouldn't miss him.

She lay there for a long time, thinking about what he'd said, and she never looked at her phone again that night. She fell asleep on her bed, with her clothes on. And she never saw the text from Michael. And she forgot about her phone the next day when she went to see Chase.

- She told Chase about Bobby Joe the next morning, when she saw him sitting at the pool. He was reading the Sunday paper.

"I broke up with Bobby Joe last night," she said, sitting down on a chair next to him. She seemed okay, but a little tired. She'd been up late, and she'd barely slept after he left.

"Are you all right with it?" he asked with a look of concern, and she nodded.

"Yeah, I am. He's been treating me like dirt forever. I kept thinking it would get better, but it didn't. He was nice in the beginning, when he wanted a job, opening for you." She shrugged, and Chase smiled.

"I guess I need to start auditions for a new opening band. I was tired of him anyway. He plays the same old stuff every time. I'll have Charlie let him know." Charlie was not only the drummer, but he also hired the opening acts, with Chase's approval. He was leaving, but still dealing with the other band members until he left. "Bobby Joe's a nasty piece of work. I'm glad you're done with him. Time to move on." He didn't say a word about Michael, and neither did Sandy. And it didn't make any difference anyway, she reminded herself as she dove into the pool a few minutes later. She was free now. But he wasn't. At least Bobby Joe was gone. She was glad. He was a jerk. And she knew she had hung on to him longer than she should. She'd been afraid to let him go.

- Amanda and Michael visited three houses on the same street in Buckhead that Sat.u.r.day. Two of them were enormous, with extensive wings and grounds, and the last one had five bedrooms. All of them were serious family homes, and just looking at them with her made Michael nervous and confirmed everything he thought.

"So when are you two getting married, or are you already?" the realtor running the open house at the last home asked them with an Alabama drawl.

Amanda smiled at the question, and Michael felt sick as he wondered what she would answer. He didn't say a word, which was often his way of dealing with questions he didn't like. And he didn't like that one. He had told her he wasn't ready.

"We're just looking," Amanda said blandly, and smiled conspiratorially at Michael. She was being coy, and as they drove away, she was excited. "Oh my G.o.d, do you believe how gorgeous that house is?" She acted like she was ready to move in, with or without him, or if she had to drag him there by the hair.

"Are you insane?" he finally exploded. "Did you see the price? Do you know what I make? And I'm not putting all my dad's insurance into that house, or asking my mom to help. We'd need four kids to fill that house."

"It's a great investment," she said calmly. Her mantra.

"So is Buckingham Palace. I can't afford it. You should marry Prince Harry. And we don't need a house like that, or any house. We're not getting married."

"Not now. But one day. Right?" She gazed at him directly as she asked the question, and suddenly he thought of what he had said to Sandy only a week before. That he couldn't see himself married to her, or having children with her. Now or later. He had just never said it to her, and he'd only been sure about it for the past few months, when she'd started pressuring him about a house. At first he thought he wasn't ready. But now he knew she was the wrong girl, which was very different. He had never been sure of that before. Now he was. He pulled the car over and put it in park, and looked at her long and hard. And he spoke clearly and firmly when he finally did.

"No, Amanda. Not one day. Never. I can't. We'd be miserable together. We don't want the same things in life."

"Of course we do. You're just scared to buy a house. Everyone is when they buy their first house."

"I don't want to marry you," he said simply. "Ever. It's not right. You need someone more like you. I'm never going to be that person. You need a guy like your father." He was all about money, ambition, and power. Michael wasn't. He was more like his mother, oblivious to superficial values.

Amanda sat staring at him for a long moment, and set her lips in a thin line. "Take me home." He started to drive her back to her place, which she rarely went to, and then he felt like a monster when he saw she was crying. He pulled over again, and put his arms around her.

"I shouldn't have pushed you about the house. We can wait, Mike. I just wanted to get us started. I'm in no rush." She didn't want to lose him. He was a great catch, she had made her mind up about him three years before, and still felt the same way. She was convinced he had a great future ahead of him and would do well, especially with her behind him.

"Yes, you are in a rush," he said honestly. "And that's okay for you, but it isn't for me. I just realized recently that I don't want to marry you. I don't think it's right for either of us. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how."

"We don't have to get married for a long time," she negotiated with him, and he shook his head.

"No," he said firmly. "You need someone else. And so do I." She looked panicked then as she heard what he said.

"Is there someone else?" He could be honest with her, and he was glad he had gone no further with Sandy the week before, and had been truthful with her about Amanda.

"No, there isn't." He didn't add the words "not yet." She didn't need to hear them. And it was beside the point. All that mattered was that he knew he didn't want a life with her. He wasn't even sure he loved her. And he wasn't sure if Amanda even cared. She wanted a lifestyle, and an investment, more than the man who went with it. His mother had been right all along.

He drove her home then and stopped outside her building on Ches.h.i.+re Bridge Road. She got out slowly and looked at him through the window. "Why don't we think about this, Mike? You panicked. Let's give it some time." He already had. Three years. Long enough to know what he didn't want, and with whom. He shook his head as he looked at her, not knowing what else to say.

"I'll drop your stuff off this week" was all he could think of. Amanda looked shocked as he drove away. She let herself into her building then, ran upstairs to her apartment, and threw herself onto the bed. But she had to call her father and tell him what had happened.

"I always knew he was the wrong guy," her father said calmly. "No guts. No ambition." It was a harsh thing to say about Mike. He worked hard, had a good job, and was a nice boy. "Good riddance," her father said roughly, and Amanda felt sad as she hung up. She loved him, and thought he loved her too. She always believed they wanted the same things, but they didn't. And maybe her father was right, and Michael. They both said she needed a man like her father. And when she thought about it, she knew they were right. She wanted a guy who wanted one of those big houses in Buckhead, and would kill himself to get it for her. A man who wanted to stretch and grab the bra.s.s ring and win the prize. Amanda wanted all the prizes, but not necessarily the guy. It wasn't about love for her. It was about power. And that wasn't Michael.

- Sandy never saw the message Mike had sent her from the bar until late Sat.u.r.day, when she fished her phone out from between the couch cus.h.i.+ons where Bobby Joe had thrown it the night before. She answered it just saying that she was thinking about him too, and hoped he'd had fun the night before. But he didn't answer. When he saw her text, he was sitting in his apartment, thinking about Amanda and what had happened that day. He felt empty and alone every time he thought of Amanda. He wasn't sure how or why it had unraveled so quickly, but a three-year relations.h.i.+p had ended. It was something to think about, and he needed time to mourn it. He didn't want to just reach out to Sandy, or tell her what had happened, as though he could end one relations.h.i.+p and start another five minutes later. Hi...I'm free now...let's go play. He owed Amanda more respect than that, so he didn't respond to Sandy.

He packed Amanda's things in boxes-the clothes she'd left at his house, her books, her tennis and gym clothes, a sculpture they'd bought together. Three years of memorabilia that were at his place and not hers. It took him an hour to gather it all up, and another hour to pack it. Three years in two boxes. And he called his mother that night and told her. He sounded sad.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said to her son, and she meant it. Stephanie had never liked her, but he had, and that was enough. She was sorry for the disappointment and his aching heart. He sounded very unhappy and a little shocked.

"I don't know what happened. All of a sudden, I just had to tell her. I only figured it out a few weeks ago. She's been pus.h.i.+ng me to buy a house. I just didn't want to do that, but she kept pus.h.i.+ng. I nearly broke out in hives when we looked at that house." Stephanie smiled at what he said.

"One day you'll find the right person."

Amanda called Michael that night and sounded as sh.e.l.l-shocked as he was. But she didn't argue with him, or beg to get back together. In her heart of hearts, she knew he was right. She reminded him to put her skillets in with her other things. She had paid for them and wanted them back. And the new microwave she had just bought for his apartment. In the end, it came down to that. Frying pans and a microwave and a box of old stuff. She reduced it all to the merely practical. He wondered if she'd even miss him. He felt empty when he hung up. Three years of his life had just gone down the garbage disposal, and he'd flipped the switch. And he knew he should have done it long before.

He went for a run that night to try and clear his head. It helped a little. And he thought about Sandy when he got back. He wanted to call her, but he knew it was too soon. He needed time to put Amanda behind him and wipe the slate clean. And when he went to bed, he dreamed of Sandy. They were buying a big house, and Amanda was the real estate agent, and she kept pus.h.i.+ng. In the dream, he shouted at her, and then he and Sandy ran away, laughing, with Amanda shouting after them. The dream seemed clear to him when he woke up. Amanda was the saleswoman, trying to sell him a house he didn't want. And Sandy was the girl of his dreams.

Chapter 18.

In the end, Michael waited a week, and then decided to call Sandy. She had sent him a couple of texts, which he hadn't answered, and he felt guilty about it. It was a few days before the Fourth of July weekend. He had dropped off Amanda's things and hadn't heard from her. She had moved on, without sentiment or regrets. He was disappointed, but he wasn't devastated or heartbroken, which told him he'd done the right thing. He'd been thinking about Sandy a lot. She hadn't told him what had happened with Bobby Joe in her texts. And since she didn't hear from Michael in response, she a.s.sumed he was still with his girlfriend. She sounded surprised to hear from him, and was downtown shopping with a friend. But she was as easygoing as ever.

"Sorry I haven't answered. I've been a little tied up here," he said, feeling awkward at first.

"That's fine. I've been busy too." She had been sad not to hear from him, but she respected him for not chasing her at the same time, when she knew he had a girlfriend. They'd kissed at the airport, and he had told her he needed to make some decisions. She a.s.sumed he had decided to stay with Amanda. "How are you?"

"Fine." The Braves had been on a winning streak, which everyone in Atlanta was excited about, hoping to get to the playoffs and World Series.

"We're playing a big concert on the Fourth of July. Five big bands. Chase is the lead act, so we've been rehearsing day and night."

"Sounds intense," Michael said, thinking of the concert he'd been to when he'd first seen her. "How's the rest of your life?"

"The same. Well, almost. I broke up with Bobby Joe." That was a major piece of news to him. "He acted like a real a.s.shole. All the time, actually. But he got drunk one night while we were rehearsing, and he was such a jerk, it finally did it for me. Chase just hired a new opening act for the band. That'll really fry his sorry a.s.s," she said, laughing, and Michael was smiling.

"Yeah, I think so." He hesitated for an instant and then decided to tell her. "I broke up with Amanda. No new opening band, though." Sandy laughed.

"What happened?"

"Pretty much what we talked about. I knew I didn't want to marry her, and she backed me into a corner about buying a house with her, and I had to tell her. It's better this way."

"Why didn't you tell me you two broke up?" Sandy sounded surprised.

"I thought I should wait a little while, out of respect for both of you. But I missed you too much, so I called you today." He was smiling as he said it. They were both quiet for a minute. It changed things between them, and made things seem more serious than they had been when she went to Atlanta. They were both free now, and she was thinking about it and what it meant. So was he.

She decided to be brave first. "Do you want to come to the Fourth of July concert here?" Her heart was pounding as she asked him and waited for his answer. "You can stay at Chase's. He has a guest room." She didn't want him to think that she was inviting him straight into her bed. She wasn't. She had taken Chase's advice to heart.

He was thinking about it, but his answer came quickly. He didn't want her to change her mind.

"I'd love it. Are you sure Chase wouldn't mind?"

"No, he'll be fine." She sounded happy and excited, and so did he. He was going to come down two days before and spend the weekend with them. She told him that Nashville went all out for the Fourth with barbecues, picnics, and a parade, and their concert. There was another one the day before at Opryland. "Come ready to party," she told him, and he laughed. She was excited when she hung up, but tried to be calm about it, and she told Chase about it the day before Michael arrived.

"Can I use your guest room this weekend?" she asked casually when she saw him at rehearsal, and he looked surprised.

"Sure. Who's coming? Anyone I know?" He couldn't imagine who she wanted there. Once in a while she had a girlfriend come to visit who'd moved away, but they always stayed in the cottage with her. Why not this one?

"Michael Adams." She tried to sound nonchalant about it, and his eyes grew wide.

"Michael Adams, as in Stevie's son?" She nodded, and smiled. "Is he bringing his girlfriend?" he teased her, and she shook her head.

"They broke up." He smiled at that with a wicked look.

"My, my...isn't that interesting...and you and Bobby Joe broke up too...happy to have him," he said, and winked at her, and they both went back to work with the band.

He told Stephanie that night.

"I'm having a guest this weekend," he said benignly when he talked to her after rehearsal. He was tired, but excited about the concert on the Fourth. There was nothing he liked better than playing. He always said he was born to sing and play his guitar.

"Anyone special?" Stephanie asked, wondering if it was some big country music star. He knew them all, and there were a number of them playing at the concert on the Fourth.

"I think so. I think you will too. A young man by the name of Michael Adams. He's coming from Atlanta." It took a moment to sink in, and then she screamed.

"My Michael? How did that happen?" She had spoken to Michael two days before, and he'd said nothing about it. She was suddenly glad she hadn't decided to go to Nashville too. It would have been harder to explain to Michael about "Laura" a second time.

"Sandy invited him," Chase filled her in. "He's staying in my guest room, all very proper." She knew Michael and Amanda had broken up because he had called her about it, but she hadn't heard from him since. And he hadn't mentioned Sandy. But she was pleased.

"Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned." Stephanie sat on her bed and grinned. "That is very good news indeed. I wonder if he'll tell me." She suspected he would eventually, but not just yet.

"Well, act surprised if he does. I don't want him to think I'm spying on him."

"You have to tell me all about it," Stephanie said, sounding excited.

"Of course. I just wish you were coming too." He was wistful as he said it.

"So do I," she said, remembering his kisses. She was planning on going to a barbecue at Brad and Alyson's in Ross over the Fourth. Chase had invited her to Nashville, but she wasn't ready to go back. She still felt she had to make some decisions about her life first.