Wild Card: Boys of Fall (2 page)

“It’s been a rough few months for us, baby girl. I know that. But we’re turning a corner tonight. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“No more sneaking into my room in the middle of the night. I’m not going anywhere. Not for a long time.”

All the heavy feelings and fears of the past few months slowly started to fade away. For weeks following the heart attack, she’d watched her dad closely, too terrified to take her eyes off of him. She had been there the night her dad had grabbed his chest, hitting the floor unconscious, as she called 9-1-1 and screamed for Oakley and Joel, their ranch hands. The memory of that horrifying event wouldn’t leave her.

It woke her up night after night, restless and frightened. She would toss and turn for hours, knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep again until she tiptoed down the hall to determine that he was still breathing.

Luckily her dad snored, so more often than not she didn’t even have to walk all the way to his room. On the nights when nothing but silence met her ears, she would hold her breath, her heart racing with every step as she played out her worst fear.

Losing him.

“I didn’t know you knew about that.”

“It’s an old farmhouse. Floorboards squeak something terrible.”

“Wait. If you heard me coming, why were you usually snoring?”

Dad chuckled. “Thought I’d save you the trip.”

“But sometimes you
weren’t
snoring.”

“Those were the times I was really sleeping.”

They both laughed. Dad frequently saw the things she thought she’d hidden. And as always, he knew how to make everything better.

“I still gotta walk you down the aisle and spoil a couple dozen grandkids.”

“A couple dozen? You better have at least eight illegitimate kids tucked away somewhere if that’s your plan.”

Her father chuckled. “I love you, Lori. And I’m proud of the woman you’ve become. You’re so much like your mama.”

Lorelie had never known her mother—not personally, anyway. Her mom died the day she was born. Her father had taken on the role of both parents, raising her with love and understanding, treating her as if she were his greatest gift. He often spoke of her mother, drawing pictures of the woman in Lorelie’s mind until sometimes it felt as if she
had
known her.

She gave in and let the tears fall, her dance with Dad morphing into a swaying hug that neither of them was anxious to let end.

As the song faded, Dad pulled away with a grin, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “The party’s a hit. So stop flitting around worrying and go have fun with your friends.”

Lorelie was reminded of Glen’s description of her earlier. Her father walked backed to rejoin his cronies in the corner and she glanced toward the stage.

Glen tipped his hat to her and winked.

“Thank you,” she mouthed as he and Wade switched places once more, picking up the pace with a rousing version of “Dixieland Delight” that had everyone out in the middle of the room, stomping, swinging and singing along. She was floored when Glen picked up a fiddle midway through the song and brought the house down.

As the music played, Lorelie was drawn into a huge circle of her friends, laughing and dancing with Paige, Charlene, Randi, Tucker, Carter and the whole gang.

The night couldn’t have been more perfect. And as people began to leave, the party coming to an end, she knew her dad was right.

It was time to turn a corner.

T
oby
: Where are you?

Glen: Almost to Texas

Toby: Texas? Thought you went back to Nashville

Glen: I did. To pack a bag

Toby: Didn’t mean for you to leave town

Glen: Needed a break

Toby: Probably a good idea. Take some time. Get your head screwed on straight. I’ll be in touch

T
hree months
later

“Well, this is one hell of a surprise.”

Wade reached out to shake Glen’s hand as he stood up from his barstool at Pitchers.

Wade wasn’t the only one surprised by Glen’s impromptu return to Quinn. Glen was pretty shocked himself. It certainly wasn’t a trip he’d intended to make, but after the nightmare that was the past three days, this was the only place he could think to take refuge, lick his wounds and figure out where the hell he’d gone so wrong with his life.

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

Wade gave him a funny look. “So…?”

Glen grimaced. “I was just sitting on my couch the other night, thinking to myself ‘you know what would be great? An impromptu trip to Texas in late January.’ Who
wouldn’t
want to be in Texas in winter?”

His sarcastic tone clued his friend into the fact this visit wasn’t purely a social one.

“Shit,” Wade said as he claimed the stool next to Glen’s. “What happened?”

“Trent Maxwell happened.”

Wade nodded. They had discussed Glen’s current job before, so Wade was perfectly aware of his issues with the arrogant lead singer. Glen had spent the past two years touring with Nashville’s biggest rising star. While most musicians would give their left nut for such a great gig, Glen was miserable.

Trent was—hands down—the biggest son of a bitch on the planet. Cocky, with more ego than musical ability, he strutted around like God’s gift to the world. He was insufferable, annoying… Jesus, the list could go on and on.

“What did the asshole do?”

“Talentless little prick,” Glen muttered.

Wade groaned again as a light went on. “Let me reword my question. What did
you
do?”

Glen blew out a frustrated breath as he picked at the label on his bottle of beer. “I beat the shit out of him.”

“Fuck.” Wade raised his hand to the bartender. “Hey, Sadie. Can we have a couple of whiskeys over here?”

Sadie walked over with two glasses and filled them. “Good to see you, Wade. Charlene doing okay?”

“Yeah. Busy at the store. I’ll tell her you said hi.” Wade’s new bride ran the local feed and seed with another gal Glen had met the last time he was here. Couldn’t recall her name, but he remembered she was friendly with a sweet smile. Actually, most of the folks he’d met at the party back in October had been really nice. Accustomed to city life, Wade had been instantly struck by the fact that everyone in Quinn seemed to not only know everyone else, they appeared to like each other.

Part of him thought that was cool. And another part of him figured that kind of
Cheers
-like, everybody-knows-your-name lifestyle would drive him insane. There was a lot to be said for anonymity. He didn’t want to have to deal with anyone else’s shit. Which was good, since he was currently rolling around in enough of his own.

Sadie smiled. “Tell her we’re still on for margaritas on Sunday too.”

“Will do.” When she started to put the bottle away, Wade waved a hand. “No. You might as well leave that right here.”

She gave Wade a quizzical look, but didn’t question him about why they were planning on putting a dent in a bottle of whiskey at one p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. In Glen’s opinion, that meant she was a damn good bartender. The fewer questions the better right now. He sure as hell didn’t want it getting out that he was the reason Trent Maxwell had cancelled his last two concerts. Hard to sing with two loose teeth, a split lip and a black eye. Their manager had told the media Trent had laryngitis, and then hid him away from the public.

Sadie put the bottle of Jack Daniel’s in front of them on the bar. “Have at it.”

Wade lifted the glass and downed it in one long drink. “Okay. So give me the details. Thought your fighting days were well behind you.”

“Before three nights ago, I hadn’t gotten into a fistfight since that night you and I took on those three drunk rednecks in that bar in Santa Fe.”

Wade chuckled. “Jesus. That was a hell of a night. Thought Marty was going to let us rot in that Podunk jail cell.”

Glen grinned at the memory of their band manager’s ire when he’d come to bail out his band. “Figure he probably would have, if we hadn’t had that sold-out show to play in Tucson.”

“You get fired?” Wade asked, turning the conversation back to what had brought Glen to Quinn.

“Not yet.”

Wade seemed surprised by that. “Any news stations pick it up?”

Glen shook his head. “Nope. It appears the record label did a good job covering it up. Either no one knows about it or they paid a pretty penny to hush it up.”

“That’s lucky.”

Glen nodded, waiting for the inevitable question.

Why?

“Not sure it has to do with luck so much as they’re trying to save face. This gig used to be a hell of a lot easier. I’m getting too old for this shit, man.”

“You’re only thirty-eight.”

“And I’ve been on the road since I was sixteen. Twenty-two years. I’m worn out. Things have changed a lot. Nothing about touring with Trent is like
our
time together on the road.”

Wade refilled his glass and tapped it against Glen’s still untouched one. “Is this where we relive our glory days while bitching and moaning about the younger generation?”

Glen laughed. “
You’re
the younger generation to me, dammit. I’ve got nearly a decade on you.”

“That’s true, old man.”

Glen rolled his eyes at the nickname.

Wade and the other guys in the band had always called Glen that. It used to piss him off. Now it was starting to feel way too accurate.

Wade’s eyebrows rose when Glen didn’t get riled about the name the way he used to. “Wow. You
are
in a funk. You’re only eight years older than me, Glen.”

“Feels like a lot more. Like I’m aging in dog years.”

Wade chuckled at the joke, and then hit him with the question. “So let’s have it. What happened? What made you beat up Trent this time when you’ve managed to swallow down his crap for two years?”

“When we used to tour together, it was fun. You know, five guys traveling around the country in a bus, laughing and joking and drinking together. We’d kill it on stage, then party our asses off until dawn. We were there because we loved the music, loved the life.”

“And with Trent?”

“It’s fucking brutal. Most you and me ever did was drink whiskey and smoke a little weed. These guys are into snorting coke, popping pills. Trent is the worst.”

“That’s not exactly new information, Glen. You’ve been saying that since the beginning. And you’ve been dealing with it.”

“He’s the biggest name in town. I’m getting paid a shit ton of money to ‘deal with it’. Somewhere along the line, I became his fucking babysitter. Our manager looks to me to keep him in line and not let him go too wild. Problem is, it gets hard to stomach his attitude after a while.”

“I know you; you don’t just snap without provocation. What did he do?”

“After the show Saturday night, Trent’s bodyguards showed up with several fans who had backstage passes. Me and the rest of the guys were just sitting around, drinking some beer. The usual groupies were there, but I wasn’t into the party. Had a wicked headache and I was considering bailing early, but Trent was in rare form, stoned out of his mind. Figured I’d better stick around a while to keep an eye on him. Just in case, you know?”

“Damn. You
are
the babysitter.”

Glen grimaced. “Music’s blaring, people are dancing and making out—you know how it is. And I’m watching Trent with these fans. Two of the girls couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old. They were giggling, excited about meeting the big fucking star. Next thing I know, Trent’s offering them booze and pills. One of the girls said no, but the other didn’t. Little bit of time goes by and suddenly Trent is leading the drugged-up girl back to his dressing room. Her friend was trying to keep her from going, trying to convince her to leave instead.”

Wade sighed. “I guess I know what happened next.”

“I walked across the room and stopped Trent, said the girls needed to leave. Pompous little jerkoff was blitzed out of his mind. Told me I could fuck the other girl or fuck off.”

“Famous last words of a fool,” Wade muttered.

“I swear to God, it felt like slow motion. Like I was in an episode of that old
Batman
show. Started with a right to his eye, followed by a left to his jaw.”

“
Bam! Whap!
” Wade joked.

“
Kapow!
” Glen had been feeling like hell since he started this trip halfway across the country. Within minutes, Wade had him laughing, and the weight that had been pressing on his chest lifted a little. “It was just about that comical. After the second punch, Trent’s head flew back, his eyes rolled so far up all I could see was white. He hit the floor like a bag of potatoes.”

Wade eyed him. “I don’t see any bruises, so I can only assume no one had Trent’s back.”

“Nope. Told you. The guy’s not very well liked. One of the bodyguards just laughed, which pissed Trent off. He was trying to get up. and I’d actually clenched my fist to put him back down, when the two
girls
hopped in on the action, started kicking Trent, calling him all kinds of nasty names.”

“No way! Jesus. I wish I’d been there to see that.” Wade’s enjoyment of the story continued to help Glen find humor in a situation that—until that moment—had just felt like a damn bad night.

“Trent curled into the fetal position with his arms over his face, because even as stupid as the jackass is, he knows his looks are all that really matter. Of course, I’d already done a fair amount of damage there, so I don’t know what he thought he was preserving. One of the girls rammed the toe of her high heel into his ass while the other one kicked his shins. I considered adding my boot to the action, but kicking a guy while he’s down isn’t exactly honorable. Even if he deserves it.”

“Not sure I would have taken the high road.”

Glen knew Wade would have, but he appreciated his friend’s support. “The bodyguards were still chuckling, letting the girls blow off some steam. I know it sounds like it was a long, drawn-out thing, but in truth, the whole episode only lasted a minute or so. I punched him, the girls kicked him, the rest of the band started cheering the girls on. Whole thing ended when one of the girls got Trent right in the balls and he started crying.”

Wade winced. “Shit.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s when even the bodyguards realized things had gotten out of hand. That, and the fact a few of the groupies had pulled out phones. Place went on freaking lockdown. Phones collected, shit deleted fast and furious. The girls were taken to God knows where. I figure our manager, Toby, must’ve used that
Men in Black
memory-eraser thing on ’em because there hasn’t been a peep on social media about it.”

Wade snorted. “Pretty sure he gave them a lot of money to keep their mouths shut.”

“Yeah. Worked out good for them in the end. They got paid to kick Trent in the balls.” Glen picked up his whiskey and downed it, welcoming the heat of the liquor as it slid down his throat. “I wouldn’t have minded some payout for my piece of that action.”

His friend grinned and slapped him on the back. “You know, I sort of like this superhero look on you. Glen Rodgers, champion of backstage groupies everywhere. Might see if Charlene can whip up a costume for you. Something with a long denim cape.”

“Let me just go ahead and shut that idea down there.”

“I’m being serious.” Wade raised his hand at Glen’s narrowed eyes. “Not about the cape, you jackass. But the rest. You’ve always been so easygoing. Live and let live. I like this new leaf you’ve turned over. Nice to see you caring about something.”

Glen wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He didn’t think of himself as heartless, but when he considered his past, he could see why Wade viewed him as a bit cavalier, maybe even uncaring. He dropped out of high school and ran away from home at sixteen after a falling-out with his dad. He’d never looked back. Just cut all ties with his family so he could do what he wanted. Liked to brag about how he didn’t live by anyone’s rules but his own. It had been a young man’s arrogance.

“So what now?”

Glen shrugged. “Toby suggested that I get away for a little while until the dust settles.”

Wade looked surprised. “So you’re really
not
fired?”

He shook his head. “No. The label knows that all Trent has in his corner is good looks and showmanship. It’s the band that’s making the music work.”

“It’s
you
making it work,” Wade said. Glen tried to brush off the compliment, but Wade continued, “You’re one of the best musicians in the world, Glen. Yet you’re always content to play second fiddle—to me, to Trent.”

“I don’t like the spotlight, Wade, you know that. I’d rather somebody else shoulder that burden, so I can just play. The music is the only thing that’s ever mattered to me. Would have made my life a lot easier if you’d stuck with pure country instead hooking up with that Oblivion guy and changing your sound.”

“You could have come with me.”

Glen sighed. He could have. But he preferred the traditional, old country style. At the time, he hadn’t been sure he’d be a good fit with the changes Wade was planning to make. Plus the record label had offered him a small fortune to play with Trent. Wade had encouraged him to move on, even though it was tough as hell for them to split up. Glen figured Wade was about as close to a brother as he’d ever get. “Yeah. I know.”

“Toby is a good manager. You’re lucky to have him. He’ll get all this crap sorted out soon enough.”

Wade was right. Toby was a great manager. He was the one who’d landed him the gig with Trent along with a hefty salary.