Commitment (101 page)

“Ho
ly shit,” he said out loud now.
“I can’t remember what city we’re in.”

As if on cue, the pilot announced their arrival in Nashville, and Shawn
yawned. Dirty South.
The south was always more raucous than most places
—the groupies down here
dressed and acted like strippers
,
hanging around the hotel and near the under
ground entrances to the venues.
It made him tired thinking about i
t.
He yawned again.

“What’s on the agenda today?”
he asked Brendan who was just beginning to relax as the jet slowed.

“Radio, industry press.
And your mother-in-law’s in town because she has something at Vanderbilt, so you’re having dinner with her.”

Shawn sat up.
“Good.
That’s
something
to look forward to.
For a change.”

Lorna was waiting for him in the restaurant when he
arrived later that evening.
She was
wearing a cream pantsuit, and looking like ever
y bit the university professor.
He almost didn’t recognize her.
She stood as he
came toward her
and held out both her hands, presenting him a cheek and kissin
g his own, lookin
every bit as happy to
see him as he was to see her.
The restaurant was a barbecue joint that Brendan had suggested because it had been written up in national press as one of the area’s best, and because it was just the kind of unpretentious place where they wouldn’t be bothered.

“You’re going to get sauce all over that outfit,” Shawn said s
preading his napkin on his lap.
“You know that right?”

Lorna laughed. “Who cares? I’m ready to throw down.
I am
starving
.
”

“Then let’s get to it.”

Shawn scanned the menu and quickly settled on a special that had samples of
just about
every kind of barbecued meat
—
kielbasa, beef
ribs, pulled pork, and chicken.
Along with the side of cornbread and baked beans, he would
be good to go for hours.
W
hen they’d placed their
orders, including
a pitcher of beer, Lorna leaned forward and patted Shawn on the side of the face affectionately
, the way she always did when she saw him after a long time
.

“You look good,” she said.
“A little tired, but good.”

“I’m a lot tired,” he said.

“Well, you could alway
s take some time off,” she said breezily.

Shawn laughed.
“I did that, remember?”

“Oh Shawn, t
hat doesn’t count,” Lorna said.
“You we
re fighting for your life then.
It was hardly restful.”

“Yeah . . . true.”

“Anyway, just a thought.
Tell
me what’s going on.
How’s work?”

“It’s going.
I see Riley this weekend, so . . .” he trailed off.

Lorna smiled.
“That’s funny.”

“What is?”

“I as
ked you about work and you said:
I see Riley this weekend
.”

“
I don’t like being away from her,
”
he shrugged.
“
But I have a CD to promote.
” Shawn took a sip of his water. 

“Of course.
And business commitments are important to keep.”

“This summer Riley’s coming with me for the European and As
ian legs of the tour,” he said.

He sounded defensive even to his own ears
, answering an objection she hadn’t even voiced
.
In fact, Lorna was probably
more understanding of
his having to be away from Riley than he was.

She
shrugged. “Good.
She’s always wanted to go to Asia.”

“You could come too,” he offered.

“I write my best stuff
in the summer,” Lorna demurred.
“But thank you.”

“So what’re you up to in Nashville?”

“Lecture series at Vanderbilt.”

The waitress brought over their cornbread, so they were distracted for a few minutes breaking off chunks of the warm, grainy dough.

“I actually got a couple of questions about you,” Lorna
continued.
“And I shot them down right away.
And in merciless fashion, I might add.
”

“You must b
e sick of that right about now.
Talking about me.”

“No.
I just want to permit you to speak for yourself, that’s all.
Tell your own
story
. Don’t forget my offer.
To do a guest
lecture
at the college.”

“I didn’t forget.”

“Good.”

The food was
better than
rumored, and Shawn ate well past
the point of
satiating
his hunger, wanting to sample every meat that was placed on the massive cast iron skil
let in the center of the table.
He and Lorna talked about a lot of things, but not nearly as much about R
iley as he would have expected.
They’d fallen right back into the comfortable, easy rhythm they’d developed when he’d spent those weeks under her roof last year.
H
e’d missed it
; this effortless conversation.

They talked a lot about a certain young senator from Illinois who might make history if his bid for the presidency was
successful.
They both thought it was a long-shot, and were amused because Riley
was convinced that it was not and planne
d to volunteer for his campaign.

When the meal was over, Lorna called for the tab and waved away his attempts to pay.

“I’m expensing it,” she explained, impatiently.

“Lemme at least take you back to your hotel,” Shawn said.
“I have a driver outside.”

“Works for me.
I’d planned on
walking
the ten blocks
but after that meal I’m not sure I can make it to the curb.”

As she climbed out of the SUV at her hotel, Lorna turned one last time.

“Kiss Riley for me.
You’ll see her again before I do.”

“I will.”

“And get some rest,” she shook a finger at him and was gone.

He felt her absence immediately
and leaned ba
ck into the plush leather seat.
He never rode in the backseat, but had only done so tonight bec
ause Lorna was riding with him.
Now occupying the expansive space by himself, he felt more than alon
e
.
Shawn pulled out his mobile and
called home
, calculating quickly that
at this time, Riley would probably be
watching her
favorit
e
cable
news program, feet up on the
four-thousand-
dollar coffee table that she had declared a “colossal waste” of money.

“Hey baby,” she picked up right away, soundin
g as though her mouth was full.
“Where are you?”

“Just left dinner with Lorna.”

“Good.
How was she?”

“She looked good.”

“
And
you?
How’re
you
?”

“A’ight.”

There was a brief silence.
“You don’t sound i
t.
Everything okay?”

Shawn took a deep breath.
“Just missing home, I guess.”

“I know.
I miss you to
o,” Riley said her voice lower.
“We’ll see each other this weekend though.”

“Yeah.”

“But you want to co
me home, don’t you?” she asked.
“Not just see me, but come home?
”

Yes
, that was what he wanted. His own place, his own bed.
The smells, the sounds, the rhythms of his life that he had become accustomed to when he’d
had no choice but
to slow down.
He wanted to know what Riley’s meetings had been today,
and how they’d gone.
He wanted to know whether she wore her hair up or down when she left home that morning, whether the
entrance to Central Park that was opposite their building had been reopened, and whether the pigeons that lived in the turrets had been removed as the management company
had promised
. 

All of these things
—
admittedly little things
—
were
the landscape of his life.
And he didn’t
like being
away from them anymore.
Not for this much time.

“I’
m just tired,” he said finally.
“Tomorrow
I’ll be a’ight
.”

“So you’re there for how long?” Riley asked.

“I have a show tomorrow night, and then we lea
ve the next morning for Memphis
.
”

“I want you to try to get some sleep, then,” Riley said. “Some good, restful sleep, okay?”

“I'll try,” Shawn said.

What he didn't say was that sleep was much harder to summon without her next to him; he’d been spoiled for any way to drift off other than to the sensation of
her
fingers, lightly
caressing
the back of his neck.

g

The next morning was back-to-back meetings and appearances. He hit four radio stations before
ten
a.m.
and before
two
p.m. had
three
photo-ops
and
a high school anti-drug rally.
The high school was Brendan’s idea because he had the
notion
that Shawn needed to rehabilitate his image among the parents of school-aged fans because of the whole Keisha mess. 

Unfortunately, high school crowds were hard to control and he was
mobbed getting out of the SUV.
It took a half hour to clear the kids, and then another
fifteen minutes
to get him into the auditorium.
It was only when he was headed to the next gig that he realized a pocket had been ripped from the rear of his jeans and his shirt torn at the sleeve.

“How much time
have I got?” he asked Brendan.
“I need to change.”

“You have  . . .” Brendan glanced at his watch, “. . . forty-five minutes.
But don’t take that long.
”

“Any chance I can cancel?”

“Nope.
Not only does it make you look bad, it ma
kes me look bad,” Brendan said.
“And I’m not about to look bad.” 

He was answering email on his Blackberry and didn’t even look up.

“Remind me of what it is again?”

“Shawn,
Brendan looked up, exasperated.
“
For the hundredth time, i
t’s a
fifteen-minute segment
with a local television station.”

“
Shit
, man.
I can’t keep all this
crap
straight.
That’s what your ass is here for.”

Brendan shook his head but said nothing.

He refused t
o run when he got to the hotel.
H
e would take his time changing.
So what if he was late
for
the interview?
This was Nashville
. Country music was king here.
No
one gave a rat’s ass about him.
Hell, he doubted the s
how tonight was even sold out.
He’d asked Brendan for the numbers about six times and every time there
was an excuse he didn’t get it.
That was probably Brendan’s way of protecting his
ego
before his performance
which would be cool, if he gave a crap right now.