Country: a novel Part 6

He led her straight to his bedroom, down a long hall, with important paintings hanging all along the walls. And his bedroom was an enormous, simply decorated room overlooking the garden. She could hear George before she saw him. He was snoring louder than any man, lying on Chase's bed, with his head on the pillow, his eyes closed, and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. It was the portrait of bliss. He looked at both of them then, opening one eye with acute annoyance, picked up his head briefly, glanced at her, dropped his head back on the pillow with his eyes closed, and snored even louder, as though to admonish them for waking him at all.

"That's George," Chase said with a fatherly tone. George's face was one only a mother could love, and Stephanie couldn't help laughing.

"He's gorgeous." Chase could see that she meant it, and was delighted by her response.

"He's got really bad manners. And he's a rotten host. He hates it when I have people over. Frank loves it. George never comes downstairs when anyone's here. I took him to a hotel with me once, and the people in the rooms on either side complained all night because he snored so loud. The hotel never let me bring him back. He sounds like a 747 taking off." But Chase was crazy about him, and she could see it. "I wanted you to meet him."

"If this is some kind of test, he doesn't look impressed."

"No, he doesn't. That's standard behavior for him. If he didn't like you, he'd growl. He's fine. He's just snoring. I have to wake him in the morning, or he'd never get up. He's the laziest dog alive. Frank walks him around the garden on a leash, and George hates it. He'd rather stay in bed. And he eats enough for two men. I worry that he'll get fat." He already was, but Stephanie didn't say it. They watched the sleeping dog for a few minutes, and then Chase put an arm around her shoulders and walked her out of the room and toward the stairs. "Come on, I'll take you home." He looked happy to have introduced her to his dog.

"You must be exhausted. I can take a cab." She felt guilty making his night any longer than it had already been, after their intense work session.

"I'm fine. I'm used to this. And you're not taking a cab anywhere," he said sternly. He walked into the garage and opened the door to the Corvette for her to get in.

And on the way back to the hotel, he kept another promise. He drove her past the Parthenon in Centennial Park, so she could see it all lit up at night. It was even more beautiful than in the daytime, as he had said. And a few minutes later, they were back at her hotel. He got out to open the car door for her and looked down at her for a minute.

"I loved having you there tonight. Thanks for coming out to the house." He made it sound like she'd done him a favor, instead of the reverse.

"I loved it too. I wouldn't have missed it." She knew it was such an important part of his life, as was his music. "And I'm glad I got to meet Frank and George. Particularly George, even if he wasn't impressed."

"I'll discuss it with him in the morning. He really has to behave better when someone I really care about comes to visit. He hasn't had any experience with that," he said with a gentle glance into her eyes, as the doorman turned away discreetly. She didn't know what to answer. She was too touched to think of anything to say.

"Thank you," she whispered, as he put a finger under her chin, and tilted her face up to his. She thought he was going to kiss her, and she wanted him to, but she was scared.

"I meant what I said. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do, Stevie. This is just the beginning. And we have all the time in the world." She nodded, and her eyes filled with tears at how kind he was. He kissed her on the cheek then and walked her inside. He left her at the elevator, and she hugged him and thanked him again. She wasn't sure what she was thanking him for, dinner, the visit, letting her be in the studio, seeing his home, or the extraordinary human being he was. And as she walked into her room in a daze over everything she had seen and experienced that night, she realized it was everything, the remarkable combination of who he was. When she got into bed in her nightgown a few minutes later, she fell asleep in five minutes with an enormous feeling of peace and well-being. She had never been as comfortable with anyone in her life.

Chapter 11.

The morning after their late-night studio session, Chase called Stephanie at ten a.m. about the "surprise" he had mentioned the night before. He didn't explain what it was but told her to be ready to leave at eleven, and he wouldn't give her even a hint of what was in store. She couldn't even guess and had no idea what to expect.

"What should I wear?" She sounded perplexed.

"Oh...let's see...how about a ballgown? I'd love to see you in a s.e.xy evening dress." And then he chuckled. "Just kidding. Wear whatever you want, shorts, jeans, something comfortable."

"Running shoes? Hiking boots?"

"Anything goes. Barefoot if you like." In the end, she put on white denim shorts and a pink T-s.h.i.+rt, and wore her sandals, and she was in the lobby right on time. He pulled up in the Corvette, and as soon as she noticed the stir it was causing, she ran outside. There was already a crowd gathering around the car, when people realized it was Chase Taylor. She slipped between the fans, opened the door, and hopped into the car, and Chase waved at the onlookers as they sped off.

"Sorry. I came out as fast as I could, before one of the fans got into the car instead of me."

He laughed. He was used to it. But she wasn't yet, and people were even more aware of him here than they had been in Las Vegas. He was a huge star here and exactly why people came to Nashville, to see country music celebrities like him, and he was one of the biggest. It still amazed her that she was riding around Nashville in the Corvette with a big country music star. To her, now he was just Chase.

He drove onto the highway, heading in the direction of the airport, and pointed out Opryland to her a little while later, where everything had started, and she wondered where they were going as they drove by it. He took a turn right before the airport and pulled up in front of a hangar, where a small private jet was waiting. It was a Falcon, and the pilot, copilot, and stewardess were waiting outside expectantly, and smiled when they drove up, and Chase stopped the car and turned off the engine as Stephanie looked at him.

"We're flying somewhere?" She was surprised.

"Yes, we are. It's a long drive but a short flight from here, and it's something you have to see. An important piece of Tennessee folklore and history, but not exactly the Grand Canyon." The look in his eyes said he was teasing her as they boarded the plane. Even more than on his bus, she was in awe of the sheer luxury of the plane, and the fact that he had chartered it just for her. It was above and beyond anything she could have imagined, or would expect anyone to do for her. She didn't have the remotest idea where they were going.

It was noon when they took off, having avoided all the chaos of the airport and security. They just drove up, parked, and boarded the plane. The stewardess offered her coffee, tea, soft drinks, or champagne, and Stephanie had just finished a cup of coffee with croissants while chatting with Chase, when the pilot radioed to the tower in Memphis that they were coming in for a landing. They were a.s.signed a runway after circling for five minutes. Stephanie looked out the window and still couldn't guess why they had come here as they made a smooth landing, and taxied up to a private hangar similar to the one they had departed from in Nashville. An SUV with a driver was waiting for them.

"Come on, Chase, where are we going?" She was dying to know, as they got into the car and the driver took off.

"You'll see," Chase said mysteriously, thoroughly enjoying the secret. Stephanie had absolutely no way of guessing what he had in mind.

It was a short drive from the airport, and only when they turned down Elvis Presley Boulevard did Stephanie begin to suspect. They stopped in front of a large home with tall white columns that she had already noticed were typical of many fine homes in the south. Two white lions sat on brick pedestals out front, and the sign that said "Graceland" finally told her where she was. He had brought her to the famed home of Elvis Presley in Memphis, for the tour that was a must. She turned to Chase with a broad grin the moment she read the sign.

"You are so funny to do this. I never even thought of it!" She was delighted and intrigued to be there.

"You have to see it. I'd have driven you, but it's a three-and-a-half-hour drive, and we just didn't have time. So I thought we'd come by plane." She knew he had spent a fortune to get her there, and had been incredibly generous and thoughtful to think of it.

They took an audio tour of the downstairs, which included commentary by his daughter Lisa Marie, and sound clips of Elvis himself.

The upstairs was closed to the public, and Chase told her that he had heard they kept it private in deference to the family, although no one lived there anymore, and they didn't want fans gawking at the bathroom on the second floor where Elvis had died. So they were confined to the ground floor, where they saw Elvis's living room, music room, parents' bedroom, dining room, and kitchen, and on a floor below it, his TV/media room, pool room, and the famed Jungle Room.

The dominant color, particularly in his parents' bedroom, was white, with a deep purple velvet bedspread, and his mother's closet had been sealed with gla.s.s to show off some of her clothes. Elvis's bedroom, on the closed second floor, was not on the tour. But in his TV room, they saw the three televisions he used to watch at the same time. His bar and billiards room were on display. The staircase to the upper floor was white with mirrors, and there were stained-gla.s.s panels of brightly colored peac.o.c.ks. Parts of the house were gaudy, as Stephanie would have expected, and she was reminded on the tour that he had bought the house at twenty-two years of age.

After the main house, they visited the museum and trophy building, with his vast collection of gold and platinum records, his wedding tuxedo, and Priscilla's wedding dress. They quickly saw his father's office, and Elvis's shooting range and racquetball building, which had become home to some of his most extraordinary costumes, sequined and gold jumpsuits, and a stunning array of the outfits he was remembered for having performed in. It was an amazing collection of his clothes.

They saw thirty-three of his vehicles, including his famed pink Cadillac, a 1975 Ferrari, a 1956 Cadillac Eldorado convertible, a red MG, several Stutz Blackhawks, Harley-Davidson motorcycles, and more. And they finished the tour in the Meditation Garden where Elvis was buried, near his parents and grandmother, and from there, Chase and Stephanie walked back onto the street. It had been fascinating and a piece of folklore that Stephanie wouldn't have wanted to miss. It was an odd experience going there, and some of it was a tribute to bad taste, but it was the symbol of an era, and a personal view of a man who had made huge contributions to American popular culture and had been revered by generations. She was thrilled that they had come, and grateful to Chase for bringing her, and taking the time from his busy life to do so.

"I loved it," she said quietly to Chase as they walked back to the car. As always when visiting someone's home, once they were gone, one felt slightly in awe of moving in what had once been their footsteps and glimpsing their private lives, and yet Elvis and the family had wanted people to be there, keeping his memory alive. "Thank you for bringing me," she said as they drove back to the airport. And half an hour later they were back on the plane and in the air heading toward Nashville, where she got another glimpse of the Mississippi River. They ate sandwiches on the plane and were back at Chase's home in Brentwood by four-thirty. Chase had to do some more work in his office, so she lay next to the pool, and she thought about what they'd seen that day and since she arrived. Her favorite so far had been Andrew Jackson's home, The Hermitage, but she agreed with Chase that Graceland was a must. And it had been an ideal way to see it. Chase was doing so much to make her comfortable and happy, show her his city, and do everything possible to make her feel welcome and at home. Chase was a remarkable man.

He joined her at the pool at six o'clock, just before the band arrived. They had a quick dinner in the kitchen, and by seven they were back at work in the studio, changing arrangements and recording Sandy's voice, and then Chase's, as he sang two new songs. He still wasn't happy with the mix, and they made several corrections that night. He was a perfectionist about every detail, and Stephanie had new respect and insight into what it took to record an alb.u.m. They finished that night at two o'clock in the morning, and he drove her back to the hotel again. He looked tired, after another long day, partially because of her, since he had spent most of the day taking her to Graceland. She thanked him for it again when she got out of the car, and told him he didn't have to get out.

"I've got a lot of paperwork to do tomorrow, and some writing on that last song. I'm not happy with the lyrics. But you're welcome to spend the day at the house with me. You can lie by the pool while I work."

"I don't want to intrude," she said politely, hesitant to bother him while he worked.

"You're not. I love having you around." He smiled the smile that women swooned over. "Bring your bathing suit. We'll take it easy. I'll cook you dinner tomorrow night. I gave the boys the night off." It sounded very appealing, and she agreed. "Just come on over whenever you wake up. Call Wanda, she'll pick you up." Stephanie had her own car, but Chase wanted her driven. She promised to call his a.s.sistant, and went back to her hotel room after an amazing day. Everything about Nashville was fantastic so far, especially Chase.

She took him at his word and called Wanda the next day, who showed up in the vintage red Chevrolet truck at noon and drove her out to the house, offered her something to drink, and then disappeared discreetly. Stephanie changed into her bathing suit in a changing room and lay on a chaise longue next to the pool with some magazines and a book. Chase wandered out of the house at three o'clock. He looked relaxed in bare feet, a white T-s.h.i.+rt, and torn jeans, and sat down on the chair next to hers. She had been dozing in the sun after a swim. It was a hot day, and the iced tea that Wanda had given her was still sitting next to her.

"Hi." She smiled at him lazily. He had some sheet music in his arms, and a stack of printed e-mails and notes. "How's your work going?"

"Okay. I'm still stuck on those d.a.m.n lyrics, but I got a lot done today. Sometimes you just have to sit there and do it." But it was a nice way to work, at home, in a house as beautiful as his. Stephanie felt peaceful being there, and had enjoyed the silence all afternoon. He lay down in the chair next to her then and began scribbling some notes, and then turned to her with a look of frustration, and handed her the piece of paper he'd been writing on. "What would you add to that? I need two more lines for the refrain. I'm no writer, I'm a musician. I hate having to do both."

She closed her eyes and thought about it for a long moment, then took the pencil from him and scribbled something, and handed it back to him.

"I'm no writer either. How does that sound?" She looked hesitant. He read it, nodded, and looked at her with a broad grin.

"You're better than you think. That's good. Very good. It works." He sang it a capella with the rest of the refrain, and it sounded good to her too. "You got the beat just right. It's all about the beat-you can't have an extra syllable hanging out there. And I like the words. You're hired," he said, as he set the paper down, pulled off his T-s.h.i.+rt, took off his jeans with a swimsuit under them, and dove into the pool. He had a long lean athletic body, and he surfaced at the other end after swimming the length of the pool, and then swam back to her. "I like it when you're here, Stevie. This is nice. I don't feel like I have to entertain you, but I like knowing you're around somewhere. You're easy to be with. And you write good lyrics." He grinned at her.

"Thank you. I like being here too." They sat side by side at the pool, each of them reading after that until the end of the afternoon. Wanda called out to him from the house when she left for the day, and it was pleasant knowing that he didn't have to work in the studio that night and could do things at his own pace and relax.

They sat at the pool until almost seven o'clock, and then he asked her if she was hungry. He had promised to cook dinner for her, and they went to look at what was in the fridge. He had a daily housekeeper who took care of the house and shopped for groceries for him, but he didn't like having staff there at night, unless he was working and needed help serving food.

They decided on steaks and a big salad, and he had just started heating the grill when they saw Bobby Joe walk through the garden to the little gingerbread house at the other end, where Sandy lived. She had a separate entrance, but Bobby Joe knew the code and often came through the main gate.

"That d.a.m.n kid. I keep telling him to go the other way and he never does." They saw him with Sandy a few minutes later, and she waved. Stephanie went outside to call across the garden to her, and she could see that Bobby Joe was scowling and looking unhappy about something, but Sandy looked happy, blew Stevie a kiss, waved goodbye, and then went behind her house to get her car.

"Bobby Joe's not looking too happy," Stephanie commented while he cooked their steaks.

"He never does. I keep telling Sandy, he's jealous of her. She's going to go a long, long way and be a big star, and he knows it, and he's not. He's good enough, but he doesn't have what it takes. He'll always try to make her feel bad for that. It'll never work. He'll just keep grinding at her, and b.i.t.c.hing and sulking, and punis.h.i.+ng her, until she gets tired of it. She'll figure it out. He's not a bad kid, just kind of mediocre and a jerk. She can do better than that. She needs someone who's proud of her and makes her feel good about herself. That's what we all need," he said, smiling at Stephanie as she finished tossing the salad, and he put their steaks on two plates.

"It sounds easy, but that's harder to find than you think." Bill had often been critical of her too, and she didn't like it. And she hated the kind of snide cutting comments that Fred and Jean made to and about each other. It was so easy to take cheap shots.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, as they sat down at the big round table in his kitchen. He had put out placemats and linen napkins, which he admitted he only bothered to do when he had guests. "I never had that problem with Tamra. She wasn't one for subtle comments and put-downs. She just hit me on the side of the head, or took a swing at me. She was more direct." He laughed as he said it, and Stephanie could just imagine what she'd been like. A wild country girl with a hot temper and loose fists. It seemed like a poor match with his gentle, patient ways, but that was probably why it had worked for as long as it did. "She went after me with a frying pan once. She was very down market." He chuckled. "I've never hit a woman in my life, and she took full advantage of it." Stephanie was sure she did, and then looked worried.

"Do you think Bobby Joe hits Sandy?" He had seemed pretty angry a few minutes before, and once on the bus, when he wanted to go to the casino and she didn't and had to work.

"No, I don't," Chase said, and appeared relaxed. "I'd kill him if he did, and put him in prison after that. He just hurts her with what he says. He's always p.i.s.sed off. She'll get tired of it eventually. We all do." The steaks were delicious, and she told him so, and he was pleased. "I like to cook. I don't get much time for it, but I can do anything I want in this kitchen. It's got some pretty fancy stuff. Most of the time I just make ribs or steak. I'm a southern boy." He grinned at her. "I make pretty good grits too, but you have to be southern to like them. You can't feed a Yankee girl on grits," he teased her, and she laughed.

"I should try them while I'm here."

"You won't like 'em. Most Yankees don't. They're a southern thing." She forgot how southern he was at times, but she liked that about him, good manners and respect for women, and a certain old-fas.h.i.+oned courtliness despite the long hair and tattoos, which she was getting to like too. They went with his look, and it worked on him. He was so good looking, he could get away with it, and even not shaving for several days, which made him even s.e.xier.

He offered her an Eskimo bar for dessert, and they sat talking in his kitchen about the work he had to do that week, and the concert they were playing that weekend.

"I'm going to see Michael in Atlanta tomorrow," she told Chase. "I called him this morning, and he's free tomorrow night. Unfortunately, I have to invite Amanda too. They're a package deal."

"Why don't you invite him to the concert this weekend? I'd love to meet him and his southern belle."

"She's a piece of work," Stephanie said, looking unhappy. Amanda had been involved with Michael for three years, and was beginning to look like she might be there to stay. He had met her when he first moved to Atlanta, and hadn't dated anyone else since. She was the same age as he was. Stephanie and Louise thought she was manipulative, always trying to work Michael toward her goal of marriage, although she was always sickeningly polite, and seemed insincere to them.

"Maybe he'll meet someone else." Chase was optimistic.

"I don't think so," she said, worried. "He's a very loyal guy. He never looks at other girls. He's been with her since he was twenty-two, too young to settle down. She's got a prize and she knows it. She's not going to let him go," Stephanie said.

"You settled down when you were very young," Chase pointed out to her, and he was right.

"Yeah, but I'm a girl, and his father was twenty-six." That was only a year older than Michael was now, which scared her even more.

"Well, ask him to the concert. I want to meet your boy. Hopefully, you'll meet mine too, one day." He had thought of dropping in to see him at work the day before when they went to Memphis, but they didn't have time since he had to get back to work himself.

"I hope I will," Stephanie said kindly, and promised to ask Michael to come to the concert when she saw him the next day.

"How long will you be in Atlanta?" he asked, seeming worried.

"Just one night. He's too busy to have me hang around. The Braves keep him running all over the place. He never gets home to San Francisco anymore, except for Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"That's the way it works when they grow up," Chase said philosophically. "I'm going to miss you," he added. "What am I going to do when you go back to California?" She wasn't sure what she was going to do either. She was having such a good time with him. But they had done pretty well so far. They had managed to turn a single VIP comp concert ticket into a nine-day adventure, and she hadn't left for San Francisco yet, and wasn't sure when she would. She was thinking about stopping to see Louise in New York on the way back, as long as she was this far east. She hadn't made up her mind yet, or talked to Louise about it, who might be too busy for a visit anyway. Louise worked hard at her job too.

"I've been thinking the same thing, about when I go back," she admitted, with a wistful look.

"Then don't leave, Stevie," he said as he put an arm around her, and then circled her with the other arm and held her close. She didn't pull away or resist. She felt safe and comfortable in his arms and had gotten used to him day by day.

"I have to," but she couldn't remember why, as she said it.

"No, you don't," he argued softly, his face very close to hers. "You can do anything you want...like stay here."

"And what would I do here?" she asked in a whisper. She had no life here, except in relation to him, although she loved being there and everything they did.

"You could write lyrics for me," he answered, "or we'll figure out something." And before she could answer him again, he kissed her gently on the lips, and she felt as though her head were spinning. His lips were as gentle as b.u.t.terfly wings, and yet his kiss was strong and deep, and she was breathless when he gently pulled away and looked down at her, with the most loving look in his eyes she'd ever seen. "I'm crazy about you, Stevie," he said softly. "I don't want you to leave. I will miss you every day until you get there, as soon as you leave. This has never happened to me before."

"Me neither," she said, and he kissed her again, and this time it was filled with more pa.s.sion on both sides, not just tenderness. He was hungry for her but didn't want to scare her. He knew how new this was to her. But she didn't feel frightened in his arms.

"I don't want you to go," he said again.

"We'll have to figure this out," she said vaguely, but she didn't see how. She had a life and house and friends and history in San Francisco, and a home that her children expected to come home to for holidays and family events. And he had a life and career in Nashville that was a major enterprise and industry and couldn't be ignored. They weren't kids with a movable life, and they lived across the country, in entirely different worlds. She reminded herself too that they hardly knew each other, and she couldn't throw her whole life out the window after ten days, but he wasn't asking her to. He was telling her how much he cared about her and wished she could stay, which was enough for now. It didn't scare her, but she didn't see how they could resolve it.

They kissed again as they left the kitchen, and they watched a movie together, lying on his king-size bed, with Frank and George on either side of them. George snored so loudly while he was sleeping, they had to turn up the volume on the movie so they could hear it, and they both laughed. She even loved his dogs. Most of his girlfriends had hated his dogs, and said they should be yard dogs, and Tamra had been allergic to them, so he really did have to keep them outside until she left. But Stephanie loved the fact that he had dogs.

He didn't try to make love to her that night. He just lay next to her with an arm around her, holding her close, and they kissed from time to time. It was sweet and innocent. They were in no rush, although she could feel how powerful his body was, and sense his pa.s.sion when he kissed her, but he never pushed her farther than she wanted to go, nor lost control of himself. He was a wise and gentle man, which made her feel completely safe.

"There's no room for me in your bed anyway," she teased him, pointing at the dogs, when they talked about not rus.h.i.+ng into making love. It was a big commitment that neither of them wanted to make lightly, until they were sure of what they felt. It was still very new, and they both agreed it was smarter to wait awhile. "The boys take up the whole bed," she said, as Frank stretched his long legs in his sleep, pus.h.i.+ng her closer to Chase, and George snored even louder.

"I think we can work something out. I'll talk to the boys about it," Chase a.s.sured her. "Maybe we can negotiate time-shares on the bed." They both laughed, and after the movie, they lay there and kissed for a while. He was dying to feel her body naked on his, and the wait to discover it was tantalizing, but they agreed it would only make things better once they decided they were ready. "I hope our kids are as sensible as we are, before starting relations.h.i.+ps," Chase said, laughing.

"I doubt it," Stephanie commented. "I don't think that happens till you're our age."

"It's never happened to me before," he admitted. He had been impulsive about his s.e.xual and amorous entanglements in the past, which had always gotten him into trouble. This time they were both being smart.

And with regret they got off his bed and went downstairs. He drove her back to the hotel, and they lingered in his car, kissing, before she got out. He had told her where to stay in Atlanta, which was a better hotel than the one she usually stayed at. And she promised to call him when she got there. It was a four-hour drive from Nashville, and she was planning to walk around, do some shopping, maybe go to a museum, and meet up with her son after work, with Amanda, for dinner. And she was going to return to Nashville the next day.

"We'll go out to dinner when you come back. There are some great restaurants here." He was dedicating all his spare time to her-he wanted to spend as much time as he could with her before she left Nashville. "Have fun in Atlanta," he said, as he kissed her for a last time and looked into her eyes. "Should I tell you again how much I'm going to miss you?" She smiled at him. It was nice to hear.

"I'll call you tomorrow," she said, then ran into the hotel, waved from the door, and hurried upstairs to her room. She still had to pack for her overnight stay in Atlanta. She was leaving the rest of her things at her room at the Hermitage Hotel, which seemed simpler for one night.

Chase called her on her cell phone just as she was about to go to sleep. She answered it and could hear a roaring engine before she heard his voice, then realized it was George snoring, when Chase said h.e.l.lo and she started laughing. "Do you have any idea what it sounds like with George lying next to you?" Chase laughed too, told her to sleep tight, and they hung up. She fell asleep thinking about him and how nice it had been lying in his arms. She hadn't been kissed like that in a long time.

Chapter 12.