Country (20 page)

“Ready to come home, sweetheart?” her mother asked her, and there was a brief silence at the other end. For a minute, Stephanie thought the line had gone dead.

“Actually…that's
why I called you, Mom. Everyone's going to the South of France next week, and I got invited to Corsica, and St. Tropez. Could I, do you think…would it be okay if I stay another month? I promise I'll come home at the end of July, and spend August with you.” Stephanie was disappointed to hear it, but she didn't have any fabulous plans to offer Charlotte, the weather was always bad in San Francisco in the summer, cold, foggy, and windy, and she knew that Charlotte would have nothing to do when she got home. And it was hard to compete with Corsica and St. Tropez.

“I guess so,” Stephanie said quietly. It made her sorry she had come home from Nashville. With none of the kids home in July, she could have stayed there with Chase. But her children never planned ahead, and even when they did, they changed plans at the last minute, as Charlotte wanted to do now. “Okay.” She agreed to what Charlotte was asking, and reminded her that she had to give up her room in the apartment she had been assigned the following week. They were student apartments provided by the university. She had five roommates, and Charlotte had to vacate her room.

“I'm going to leave for St. Tropez before then. Thank you, Mom!” She sounded ecstatic that she didn't have to come home. After they hung up, Stephanie lay down on her bed, wondering what to do next. She wanted to empty Bill's closets, but she wasn't ready to do it on her first day back. She had the whole month of July to do it now. She lay there and closed her eyes, thinking of Chase, wishing she were with him in Nashville. The house seemed emptier than ever now that she knew Charlotte wasn't coming home.

After Sandy's visit, Michael felt like everything had changed. When Amanda came home from Houston, exhausted after the weekend, she found Michael remote and strange. He wanted to talk to her, but thought he should give her a chance to catch her breath.

She didn't say anything about how quiet he was for the first few days, and thought he was busy at work or in a bad mood. He was trying to plan what to say, as nicely as he could.

“What's up?” she finally asked him on Friday night, when they went out to dinner, and were going to meet up with friends. “Bad week at work?”

“No, just busy.” He didn't meet her eyes.

“You've been acting weird all week. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” But he had verbalized things to Sandy that he had never admitted to himself, that he couldn't see himself spending the rest of his life with Amanda, marrying her, or having kids. They were just too different, and her career ambitions no longer seemed to mesh with his. It sounded corny, but he wanted a wife or woman more like his mother. Amanda thought of everything in terms of the investment, of time, energy, or money, rather than the people involved. She wasn't a nurturing person. She was a money-making machine in a dress. And she kept talking about what they could do with their two combined incomes, rather than how much she loved him. Listening to her now turned Michael off. And he hated to admit it to her, but he was done. All that remained was to tell her. The hardest part.

She had been talking to him about the house she wanted to buy with him all night during dinner, and she could see that he had tuned out. He and Sandy had been texting each other all week, and he had called her when she got home, right before Amanda got back. He felt awkward calling Sandy now, until he worked things out with Amanda, but texting seemed okay. The subtle shadings of modern technology. And sending her an e-mail would definitely be too much. He didn't want to make promises or issue invitations until he was free. And Amanda still wanted to buy a house with him, and expected to marry him one day. They weren't engaged, but in her mind, they might as well have been. All the same expectations were there. Amanda was too ambitious, demanding, and grown up. Sandy seemed like an irresistible little elf. He kept thinking of her in the pink cotton dress and ballet flats when she left. She looked like a beautiful little girl, but at the same time she was a woman, and he was overwhelmed with desire for her. It was all he could think of every night when he went to bed with Amanda, and the haunting visions of Sandy just wouldn't go away. He was afraid that Amanda would guess before he had a chance to clean things up. She had noticed something off about him, but had no idea what.

“So what do you think, Mike? Should we go house hunting this weekend?” Amanda was like a dog with a bone. “I looked online, and there are three open houses in Buckhead at really reasonable prices. I think we should take a look.” Buckhead was a beautiful, very substantial part of town. But not where Michael wanted to live. It was where older people who made a lot of money bought homes.

“I don't feel ready to buy a house,” he managed to blurt out, and she gave him a startled look.

“You don't?” She had just given him the perfect opening for what he wanted to say, but he was scared. And knew he had to say it anyway. In fairness to them all.

“That's such a big commitment,” he said, about a house in Buckhead. “What if I lose my job, or you do? How would we handle the mortgage?” Even without Sandy, he was worried about it.

“My dad says he would help us.” And then she narrowed her eyes and looked at him. “Are you having second thoughts about us?” That had never even occurred to her before, but she sensed it now. He always seemed so steady and on track, and now he was sidling around, like a nervous horse. She'd been talking to him about a house for six months, and had never picked up any skittishness before.

“Look, we're both twenty-five years old. What's the rush? I like my apartment. You live in a nice place. Why do we have to buy a house?”

“It's a great investment. My dad says we're just wasting money with rent. He said he'll help us with the down payment, and you have the insurance money from your dad, which is just sitting there. Why not put it into a house?” She had it all figured out, and assumed a lot. Michael had thought of buying a house with the insurance money too, but more modestly, and on his own. And he knew his mother didn't like the idea of his buying real estate with Amanda. She had asked him what would happen if their relationship didn't work out. If they owned a house together, it would be complicated and more like a divorce.

“I think we're both too young.” He sounded hesitant as he said it, thinking of Sandy and the weekend before. He had no idea what to do about her yet, and the prospect of looking at houses with Amanda only made his anxiety worse.

“I'm not too young to buy a house,” Amanda said with determination. “And you're not either. You're just scared,” she said, hoping to embarrass him into it, but he surprised her and agreed.

“Yes, I am. You make a lot more money than I do. What if I can't hold up my end?” Given the houses she wanted to look at, and the area, it was going to be a stretch for him, a big one. She wanted a serious house, and her daddy said she could have it. But more than that, she wanted Mike to go with it. Michael felt like her father was buying him as well as the house. It made him feel
claustrophobic.

“Let's just see if there's anything we want,” she said firmly.

“I don't know if I can afford it,” he said, feeling as though he were shouting into cotton. She didn't want to hear him, and after he paid for their dinner, they left the restaurant and went to meet up with friends at Strip.

Amanda noticed that he never said another word for the rest of the night, and drank a little too much. He wasn't falling off his bar stool, but he was vague and distracted. But she was confident she would ultimately convince him about the house. And if she couldn't, her father would for sure. She could hardly wait to look that weekend.

Michael texted Sandy from the bar that night, while no one was watching. Amanda was busy talking to their friends. He wrote to Sandy that he was thinking about her. She had been answering promptly all week when he texted her, and sent back funny little quips that made him smile, or sent smiley faces. But this time, when he needed to hear from her, she didn't answer. It made him feel lonelier than ever, standing right next to Amanda. And all he knew was that he didn't want to be railroaded into a house he didn't want to buy, or forced to stay with a woman he had only recently discovered wasn't for him. And the one who was, was barely more than a child, just eighteen, and had a boyfriend too.

Sandy was rehearsing with the band that night. Chase had written some new songs that he wanted to try out. She was only singing backup with Delilah, but she was distracted and couldn't get it right. It was unusual for her, but this time she couldn't remember the words. And Bobby Joe was sitting on the sidelines and smirking at her. Without a word, he managed to convey just how stupid and inept she was by rolling his eyes.

Chase came over and said something to her during a break. “Is Bobby Joe distracting you?” He had seen him grinning derisively at her, and Sandy looked away, after she made the same mistake four times.

“No,” she said, embarrassed and apologetic. “I don't know why I can't get it right.” The words were simple to remember. “Just dumb, I guess,” she said under her breath, as Chase spun around and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“What did you just say?” he asked, looking intently at her. “If that little asshole makes you feel like that about yourself, get rid of him, Sandy. He's never going anywhere, except a bar on West End Avenue, or some shoestore with live music. You're going to be a star one day, and not because of me. You've got everything it takes, he doesn't. He should be playing a washboard somewhere. So don't let me hear you saying how dumb you are, Sandy Johnson, or I'm going to kick your ass.” She smiled when he said it.

“Sorry, Chase.” He nodded with a serious expression, and then glanced at her. She seemed troubled.

“Does this have anything to do with last weekend in Atlanta?” He lowered his voice to ask her. She hesitated and then nodded. He was like a father to her, and she always told him the truth, even more than she had to her own dad.

“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 relationship, 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 muffed 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 slut, 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 shit 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 ass 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 ass 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 shit and say mean things to me anymore, because you're jealous. You're nothing but a pile of shit 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 ass out of here under your own steam. Your choice. You're a mean little shit, 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 cockily, 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.