New Beginnings (32 page)

“Phil?” Drake asked. “That’s the guy who was here last night. We talked for a bit. He said he was putting a roof over Cassidy’s head, but I never imagined she was living in a place like that.”

J.T, shrugged. “I guess it’s what she wants. She told me that place was the closest thing to a home she’s ever had. Said Phil and his wife are like family to her.”

Drake suddenly wished he’d made more of an effort to make her feel at home in the penthouse they’d shared. He knew it wasn’t her style, but he hadn’t even thought about selling until after she moved out. When he couldn’t stand living with her ghost any longer, he put the place on the market and bought a mansion in Brentwood.

“If that’s true, then why the hell aren’t they helping her to make her life better? They have to know she doesn’t belong in a place like that.”

“She told me she loves bein’ there. It gives her an opportunity to help people.”

“The addicts?” Drake asked, tried to keep the disdain out of his voice. Given his experience with his missing brother, he had no time or tolerance for people who chose to throw their lives away getting high. “How the hell does she think she can help them?”

“She said a lot of them are just lookin’ for a friend. Someone who’ll listen to their story and not judge them.”

“You and I both know it’s not safe for her to be there.” When he thought about what could happen to her, living amidst those derelicts… “Question is, how are you gonna convince her of that?”

“Me?” J.T. asked, flattening his palm against his chest. “What makes you think she’s gonna listen to me? I’ve already tried to offer my help. I told you, she’s not willin’ to take it.”

“Well she sure as hell isn’t gonna accept my help,” Drake said, considering his options. “She won’t accept money from either one of us, so we’re gonna have to help her without her knowing we’re helping her.”

J.T. smiled. “I thought you didn’t care about her anymore?”

“I don’t.” He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, but he wasn’t ready to drop the pretense. “But that doesn’t mean I wanna see her homeless either.”

“Okay,” J.T said, rubbing his hands together. “What do you suggest?”

“I’m gonna see about getting her back in to some of the A-list spots. That’ll pay more money, and hopefully it’ll be enough for her to at least get a decent room somewhere.”

“It’s a start,” J.T, said. “You think your friends will be willin’ to take her on after you blacklisted her?”

He didn’t know how he was going to explain his change of heart to them when he didn’t understand it himself. But he loved that girl enough to want to make her his wife once upon a time, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her risking her life when he could do something to help. “I’ll make them listen.”

“If anyone can, you can,” J.T. said, taking a drink of his beer.

“How many nights a week is she working here?”

“Just one right now. I’ve got my regular act for the weekend, and I’m tryin’ out a couple of acts my brother-in-law has his eye on for their record label.”

J.T.’s brother-in-law, Evan Spencer, was a friend of Drake’s. Titan Records had been close to offering Cassidy a deal until Drake informed Evan that she’d had a relapse and was using again. No way would a label like Titan sink millions in to an artist who was a loose cannon.

“There’s no way you could give her another night or two?” Drake asked, knowing he was asking a lot of his friend. He liked the idea of Cassidy working at Jimmy’s bar. It was safer than most because J.T. hired the best security people money could buy to keep the patrons in line and protect the artists performing there. Thanks to J.T.’s older brother’s connections on the police force, many were off-duty and former cops who were experts at handling rowdy drunks.

“I wish I could, man. But I’ve got a full line up as it is.”

“Fair enough,” Drake said, thinking through his options. He stood up and reached into his pocket to put some money on the table for the lunch he hadn’t touch.

“Don’t even think about it,” J.T. said, holding his hand up. “Your money’s no good here.”

He tossed a fifty on the table and grinned. “A tip for the cute little waitress then.” Extending his hand, he said, “Thanks for filling me in on Cassidy’s situation, man. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re a good guy,” J.T. said, smiling. “I knew you’d do the right thing.”

***

Cassidy walked in to the sitting room of the center with her vacuum cleaner in tow when she spotted one of the residents, Bill, sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine. “I heard you were back,” she said, smiling. “It’s good to see you.”

“I guess you heard about my relapse, huh?” He didn’t spare her a glance as he said, “Once an addict, always an addict, right?”

She knew he was suffering from depression and some other form of mental illness he hadn’t disclosed during their group sessions, but she always tried to encourage him to maintain a positive attitude. Phil had done that for her when she showed up on their doorstep begging for help. She felt the least she could do was pay it forward. “You just have to take it one day at a time, Bill,” she said, sitting down on the chair next to him. “Just because you had one set-back, that doesn’t erase weeks of being clean.”

“Sure it does,” he said, tossing the magazine on the scarred coffee table.

The furniture was second-hand, donations from members of the community that Goodwill refused to accept.

Clasping her hands in front of her, Cassidy asked, “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“What’s the use?” He shrugged. “It’s not like it’ll change anything.”

“You don’t have to talk to me, but I hope you’ll let Phil help you.” She knew better than to try and overstep her bounds. She wasn’t a trained therapist, just a friend should any of the residents feel like talking to someone other than Phil.

“He can’t help me,” he said, lacing his hands behind his head. “No one can. I’m a lost cause.” He smiled, showing chipped, yellowing teeth. “Hell, my old man’s been tellin’ me that my whole life.”

“Just because he said it, doesn’t make it so.” Cassidy still cringed when she thought about some of the messages she’d received growing up.

“How the hell do ya manage to stay positive livin’ in this hole?”

She shrugged. “It beats the streets.” She knew that’s where she would be without Phil and his wife. She had no skills and had barely graduated high school. The only hope she had of building a decent life for herself was her voice, and since Drake had cast her aside, the odds of that happening seemed slim, at best.

Nashville was the mecca of country music. If she couldn’t make it here, she knew she wouldn’t be able to make it. Period. There were days she was tempted to throw her hands in the air and give in to the despair, but today wasn’t one of those days. She’d earned a positive reaction from the crowd at Jimmy’s last night and that always helped get her through at least a few days.

“Barely,” he muttered, kicking his scuffed boots up on the wobbly table. “Some days I wonder why the hell I bother gettin’ out of bed at all. It’s not like anyone’s gonna hire an ex-convict with a drug problem. I’ve filled out job applications at every dive in this city. Hell, not even those places are willin’ to hire me.”

Cassidy knew what that felt like. She wasn’t allowed to disclose the shelter’s address on job applications or resumes because of the privacy issue. With no fixed address, employers weren’t willing to take a chance on her. Not that she had been able to find anything she was qualified to do and still allowed her to continue singing at night.

“Have you thought about trying to get into one of those retraining programs that help people find jobs? Maybe you could learn a trade.”

“I ain’t got the brains for that.”

Cassidy hated to hear people get down on themselves. No matter how bleak things seemed, she refused to believe it couldn’t get better. “You can turn your life around, Bill. It’s never too late to make different choices.”

He snorted. “At least when I was high, I didn’t have to sit around all day feelin’ bad ’cause I was such a screw up. I got to escape it all for a while.”

She knew how appealing it could be to escape your problems. She’d spent too many days blissfully unaware of the chaos all around her. “You know that’s only a temporary solution. When you come down, you still have to face your problems.”

He grinned. “That’s why I made sure I was never without a fix for long.”

Cassidy heaved a sigh as she stood up. She loved living and working at the center because it was so rewarding to see residents embrace their second chance at life, but there were also residents like Bill, who’d already given up hope of a better life.

“Hey,” he said. “I heard you’ve got a hell of a voice. What’re you doin’ in a dump like this?” He looked her up and down. “With a face like that and that sweet little body, you should be makin’ records, not hangin’ out here with us losers.”

She was used to the men in the center coming on to her, which is why she wished the bedroom where she slept had a lock. Unfortunately, that wasn’t permitted because of the center’s open-door policy. Phil and his wife reserved the right to search the rooms when they suspected residents may be using.

“I’m just waiting for my big break,” she said, forcing a smile as she reached for the vacuum cleaner. “We’ve got nothing without hope, right?”

Making her way in to the hall with the heavy vacuum in tow, Cassidy nearly ran in to Phil. “Oh, sorry about that.”

“No problem,” he said, smiling. He shoved his hands in to the pockets of his pressed chinos. “I was hoping to find you. Do you have a gig tonight?”

“I wish.” She was only getting two or three gigs a week. On a good month, she was able to put gas in her car, pay for the insurance, and have a little left over to buy the occasional take-out meal when she was working late.

“Do you think you could keep an eye on things around here tonight? Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but Susan and I are celebrating our wedding anniversary and I’d really like to be able to take her out for a nice dinner.”

Phil and Susan lived in a nice little apartment above the center with their son, who was away at school, and Cassidy knew they devoted so much of themselves to their residents. She was happy to be able to do something nice for them for a change. “You guys go. Have a great time. I’ve got everything under control here.”

“You sure?” he asked, looking uneasy. “I know some of the residents can get a little rowdy at times. Susan wasn’t too sure about leaving you alone with them.”

At the moment, most of the residents consisted of men, but Cassidy wasn’t concerned for her safety. Many of the men had been here for several months and she’d forged friendships with them. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll be fine.”

Drake walked in to Jimmy’s later that night after a productive day of pounding the pavement, lining up decent gigs for Cassidy. He’d called J.T. to tell him the good news and when he found out his friend was tending bar again, he decided to stop by for a drink.

“How’d it go?” J.T. asked, handing him a glass of his favorite brand of vodka.

“Good,” Drake said, taking a deep swallow. “Real good. At this rate, she should be able to afford a decent apartment by next month.”

“Glad to hear it,” J.T. said, smiling. “I had my reservations, tellin’ you about Cassidy’s situation, but I’m glad I did. You really came through for her.”

The last thing Drake wanted was praise. He knew he was responsible for her current situation and felt the least he could do was make things right. No one should have to live the way she was. “Turns out revenge wasn’t as sweet as I thought it would be.”

J.T. chuckled. “It rarely is, my friend.”

The hours slipped by as Drake made small talk with friends and acquaintances who approached him, wanting to know which artists he was working with. He talked up his artists as he always did, but his mind was elsewhere. He wondered how Cassidy would respond when she started getting offers from bars and clubs that wouldn’t give her the time of day weeks ago. Would she realize he was behind the offers? If she did, would her stubborn pride force her decline? He had no way of knowing and that was driving him crazy.

It was almost one o’clock in the morning by the time he was making his way toward the door. He waved to J.T., but his friend beckoned him toward the bar.

By the time Drake got closer he could see that J.T.’s tanned face looked ashen.

“Um yeah, he’s right here. I’ll put him on,” J.T. said, handing Drake the cordless phone.

“Who is it?” Drake mouthed.

“Just take the call, man.” J.T. poured himself a scotch and tossed it back, lending to Drake’s uneasiness.

“This is Drake,” he said into the receiver.

“Thank God,” a man breathed.

Holding the phone away from his ear, he gave J.T. a quizzical look before asking, “Who the hell is this?”

“Drake, it’s Phil. We met last night. I’m a friend of Cassidy’s, remember?”

Curiosity gave way to full blown fear when Drake saw J.T. throw back another drink.” Yeah, I remember. What the hell’s goin’ on? Why’d you want to talk to me?”

“I called J.T. hopin’ he may be able to help me find you. I’m at the hospital with Cassidy.”

Dread turned his stomach as he cursed the vodka he’d consumed. “Is she okay?”

The other man heaved a sigh. “I’m afraid not. I don’t know how to tell you this, but…”

The silence was killing Drake as he claimed a stool at the bar. “Just tell me.”

“It’s not good.”

“Jesus Christ,” Drake shouted, slamming his fist down on the bar. “Just tell me what the hell’s goin’ on with her!”

“She was beaten badly. She has a head injury, severe internal injuries, and a collapsed lung. The chances of her making it are…”

Drake dropped the phone as the room started spinning. The gorgeous, vivacious woman he’d held in his arms just last night was lying in some hospital bed about to take her last breath?
No. Hell, no!
He refused to accept that.

J.T. picked up the phone. “Thanks for callin’, Phil. We’ll be prayin’ for her. Please keep us posted, okay?”