Lowdown and Lush Page 3

  “Well, I know he’s trouble, but I can’t resist. He’s staying in Dallas and I’m taking the semester off to record an album.”

  “No!” Leanne turns from the sink to face me. “Taking off from work? You’re kidding, right?”

  “Am I a fool?” I put my head down on the table for a moment. Then I feel Leanne’s soft hand in my hair. When I look up, she’s sitting next to me, a concerned expression hovering over her pretty features.

  “You’re not a fool, but I do worry about you. I know how you feel about him.”

  I sigh and run my index finger along the checkered tablecloth. “I’m in so deep, Leanne. He’s different with me, you know? He’s not snarky and mean. He’s sweet and considerate. He pays attention to what I say and what I want. As much as I love my parents, I don’t think they’ve ever asked what I want once in my whole life. I’ve spent twenty-four years being who they told me to be, doing what they wanted me to do. I know they love me, but I’m not sure they know me at all. With Michael, it feels like he knows me—or at least like he wants to.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she answers. “Of course he wants to know you. You’re beautiful—inside and out. He’d be a giant fool if he didn’t want to know you, and I’ve never thought Mike Owens was a fool. But he’s damaged, Jenny. I don’t know what’s happened, but there’s something dark in there that he’s not ready to let go of. It makes me worried for you.”

  She pauses, and I see an internal battle play out across her face.

  “Out with it Leanne. What aren’t you telling me?”

  She sighs before she presses her lips into a thin line and walks to a drawer across the room, opening it and pulling out a magazine.

  “I know you hate when I read these things, but Ronny brought it home to show me. He’s as worried about you as I am. We both love Mike, but we’re not blind to who he is.”

  She places the magazine on the table in front of me then goes to the sink and turns on the water, keeping her back to me as I look at the cover. In eight and a half by eleven living color is a photo of Michael, his hair mussed, his button-up shirt open to the waist. On his lap is a brunette with her legs straddling him on the chair where he sits. Her hands are flattened against his chest as she shoves her tongue down his throat. He has one hand under her short skirt, palming her ass.

  As if this weren’t bad enough, another woman leans down behind his chair, licking his neck, her breasts about to fall out of her lowcut v-neck top. Michael’s other hand is wrapped in her long red hair, pulling he against him hard.

  My gut roils, and I struggle to control the stinging behind my eyes. I gaze at the date on the cover of the tabloid—two weeks ago. We were between gigs and I was home for my mother’s birthday for part of the week. The headline reads, Lush Guitarist Hits Texas Hard With Drug-fueled Orgies and Country Music Concerts.

  My hand shakes as I open the pages and flip until I reach the article itself. A series of pictures nearly as filthy as the cover photo are accompanied by one paragraph of text.

  Former Lush guitar star Mike Owens has been spotted in Texas several times this summer, and seems intent on proving that he still lives the rock and roll life. Owens has been playing guitar for up and coming country singer Jenny Turner, but the two are obviously just professional, as Owens spends most nights at local bars drinking and partying until dawn. “He’s definitely single,” one playmate told Ex Daily in an interview. “He’s all about good times.”

  Here at Ex, we wonder how long it’ll be before party boy Owens takes things too far and ends up like former bandmate Walsh Clark, who has been battling alcoholism for the last two years.

  I look up and Leanne is sitting across from me again. She puts her hand on top of mine, her eyes full of concern.

  I clear my throat. “I know who he is, Leanne. You can’t shock me out of my feelings.” And I do know who he is. I know what he does, but this is the first time I’ve ever had to see it. It’s an entirely different level of hell. I feel like someone’s driven a sharp stick into my center. But, I’ve got some pride left, and I won’t let Leanne see just how badly this hurts me. No matter what he’s done up to this point, I’m the one who will be spending the next four months with him, in his house, his work, his life. That must count for something.

  I sit up straighter and go back to shelling the peas. “I’m not stupid. But what kind of Christian would I be if I didn’t believe people can change? This is my chance to follow my heart for once, and it’s his chance to let go of the darkness. If he won’t, then it’ll hurt, but I’ll survive. I have to take this chance. I just want it too much—the music and him. I can’t walk away without trying.”

  Leanne knows me well enough to leave it, so she goes back to fixing dinner and we chat about Marsha, a waitress at the Bronco, and Colin. They knew each other in high school in Oklahoma, and when Colin showed up here in town and ran into her, the sparks flew fast and furious. They’ve been avoiding each other ever since, but we can all tell something’s going on. By the time we’ve speculated on every possible scenario, the dinner is ready, the ranch hands are wandering in, and it’s time for me to go face my biggest hurdle—telling my parents that I’m moving to Dallas with Michael Owens for four months..

  “YOUR FATHER will never allow this, Jenny Lynn Turner,” my mother chastises as she washes the dishes after dinner.

  My father is the preacher at the Baptist church. He had to stay late tonight for youth choir, so it was just my mother and me at dinner.

  “Mama. It’s not Daddy’s decision. I’m an adult.”

  “You are an unmarried young woman. We allowed it over the summer because we thought it would get it out of your system and you had Tammy with you as a chaperone. But this? No. It’s out of the question.”

  I try to smother my smirk as I think about Tammy as a chaperone. My mother doesn’t know that Tammy was pregnant out of wedlock before we ever even started the tour and that she laughed for fifteen minutes when she found out that Michael and I would have separate hotel rooms on the tour. “Jesus,” Tammy said. “Why in the world would you do that? Does Mike think he needs one room for the ménages and one for the BDSM?”

  I’ll never understand how Tammy charmed my parents so thoroughly from meeting them only once, but they think she’s as wholesome as they come. I just don’t have the heart to set them straight.

  “Mama, the decision’s been made. I’ve taken a leave from work, and Michael has set the arrangements for recording the album. He has studio space rented and technicians coming in from Portland. Colin is going to play bass and Walsh and Tammy will come out as soon as the baby is born so he can add the drum tracks. It’s a done deal. Michael is spending a lot of money on this and I’m going to give it a shot. I’ll never know what might come of it unless I try.”

  “Oh, Jenny,” my mother sighs. “You are going to be the death of your daddy. We did not raise you to behave this way. If you love music, you can sing in the choir at church like you always have. Or maybe your daddy can find a sister church in Dallas that you could go to on Sundays to sing at a bigger congregation…” She stops talking, a thought obviously forming in her mind. “Where exactly will you be staying while you’re doing this recording? Surely you won’t be commuting from here to Dallas every day?”

  I take a deep breath, thinking it might be my last. I’ve enjoyed life. It’ll be a shame for it to end so soon.

  “Michael’s bought a house, Mama. A loft, actually. You should see it. It’s ten thousand square feet and has these two-story-high ceilings over the living room. There’s even a whole patio up on the roof—”

  “And what,” my mother gasps out, “does Mike Owens buying a warehouse in Dallas have to do with where you’ll be living?”

  “I’m going to stay with him.” There. I said it.

  My mother stumbles across the kitchen and drops into a chair at the kitchen table. “Oh my sweet Lord,” she wails. Her hand flies to her mouth and her eyes grow glassy. “Dear Father in Heaven
. What have I ever done to deserve this? Where have I gone wrong? Oh mercy, save me, Jesus. Save my baby. Show her the error of her ways.” My mother launches into an endless stream of random prayer.

  I’m sitting next to her, rubbing her back, and trying to get her to calm down when who should walk in but my father. Perfect.

  “Jenny Lynn!” he says sharply as he sets his briefcase down on the kitchen counter. “What in heaven’s name is the matter with your mother? Leticia? What’s happened?”

  My mother stops mid-prayer, two shiny tears rolling down her face. “Oh Daniel, you have to stop her.” She looks at me, her expression one of sheer horror. “She’s going to damn herself to Hell.”

  “What?” he says impatiently. “Will you please speak English, Lettie? I’m tired and I’d like my dinner. I don’t want to have to play Twenty Questions with you right now.”

  I realize that, since this is all about me, I should be involved in the conversation. “It’s okay, Mama,” I tell her as I stand and face my father.

  Daniel Turner is a formidable man. He’s six feet tall and imposing. He wears the same severe, dark suits and plain, white dress shirts he’s worn for as long as I can remember, keeps his hair military short, and has a voice that can be heard in the next county. Truth be told, I’ve always been scared of my father, and now is no exception, but I keep reminding myself that I’m not doing anything wrong. No matter what I feel about Michael, the fact is he’s never touched me and probably never will. I’m sure I’ll be just as virginal when I get back in December as I am today.

  “I’m moving to Dallas for the fall, Daddy,” I say as I move across the kitchen and deposit a dirty coffee cup in the kitchen sink. Everything at my parents’ house still has to be washed by hand. My father says that a dishwasher would only leave my mother with idle hands, and we all know what those are. I find it harder to love him when he says things like that.

  “What do you mean you’re moving to Dallas?” he asks, distracted by removing his dinner plate from the fridge, where my mother stored it until he got home.

  “I’ve taken a leave of absence from the school district and I’m going to Dallas to record an album. Michael has set it all up for me. He has a recording studio, sound engineers, Walsh and Colin committed, so I’m going to move up there and work on my music for a few months.”

  “Oh you are, are you?” he says, the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable. “I don’t recall giving you permission to do that.” He huffs out a bitter laugh.

  “Daddy.” I stand up straighter and try to get my voice to stop shaking. “I’m an adult. I don’t need your permission.”

  “Really? And how exactly are you going to pay for this little adventure—since you’ve had the foresight to take a leave from your job and all.” He shoots me a look of triumph, obviously thinking he’s backed me into a corner.

  “Actually, Michael is paying for my living expenses while I’m there.” I swallow. Hard.

  My father’s face is impassive, but his neck has turned a vibrant shade of dark red, and I know he’s mere inches from exploding.

  “Jenny Lynn, do not do something you’ll later regret. I’ll remind you that the Lord has made me the spiritual leader of this family. You have an obligation to obey me, and all the decisions I make are for your own good. I am watching out for your salvation.”

  “Daddy, no matter what you might think, I am not going to Dallas to do anything wrong. I’m going to record an album with my producer, who also happens to be a fabulous musician and the owner of a brand-new record company. He’s a kind man who cares about his artists, so he’s paying my expenses and giving me a place to live while I’m there.”

  My father shakes his head for a moment. My mother continues to sob at the kitchen table. Then, instead of exploding like I expected, he looks up at me, his eyes sad.

  “If you do this, Jenny—if you go to Dallas with that man, let him pay for your food and your clothing and your home—you’re no better than a whore. I won’t have a whore in my family.”

  My mother gasps, and I feel my chest collapse into my gut. “Daddy. Please,” I whisper.

  “Daniel, no,” my mother cries out. “Not my baby.”

  “Just go,” he says as he turns his back to me. “And don’t come back.”

  I stand still for a moment. I knew this would end badly, but I didn’t anticipate this. I feel the sting of tears coming on, but I won’t cry in front of him. No matter what he does or says, I won’t cry in front of him.

  “You can’t mean this, Daddy. I’ve always been a good girl. Done everything you’ve ever asked of me. And no matter what you might think is going on here, I am not involved with Michael that way. He’s my friend and my boss, and that’s all this is about.”

  My father continues to prepare his dinner plate, placing it in the oven and turning on the warmer. He doesn’t look at me and he doesn’t respond.

  “Daniel, please,” my mother begs through her tears, her voice shaking and desperate. “Can’t we give her compassion?”

  “Daddy?” I try again, my voice perilously close to cracking.

  He still won’t even look at me. I stare at him, dumbfounded, for what feels like minutes. Finally, I hear him say softly but firmly, “You need to leave, Jenny Lynn.”

  The blood drains from my heart and I go cold. Everywhere. The reverend isn’t famous for his compromising, just the opposite in fact. I know when I’ve lost. And I’ve just lost it all.

  I lean down and kiss my mother on the cheek. She grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly as she stands.

  “I love you, Mama,” I say as I move to the back door. Before I open it, I face my father’s back. “I’m sorry you feel the way you do, Daddy, but I’m going to do this because it’s part of who I am. I don’t believe for one moment that God would have given me this talent if he didn’t want me to do everything I possibly could with it.”

  “No. No!” My mother is frantic now, wringing her hands and looking wildly between my father and me. “You can’t let her leave like this, Daniel. No!” she screams. Daddy never turns around. As I leave, I can hear my mother’s pleas all the way to the street.

  When I get to the car, I lay my head on steering wheel and sob like I’ve never sobbed before in my life.

  Mike

  IT’S ALMOST ten o’clock at night when I get the phone call. I’m sitting in a luxury suite at the Hyatt Dallas, and unlike most of the nights I was on tour, I’m alone. Somehow knowing that Jenny isn’t upstairs or down the hall frees me from the need to bury myself in someone else.

  I’m zoned out in front of some action movie with Bruce Willis when my cell phone starts chirping away. I pick it up off the nightstand and see that it’s Jenny. I get a little rush as her pretty face lights up my screen.

  “Hey, Sunshine,” I say after I push answer.

  “Um, hi.” Her voice washes over the distance like it’s coming through a tunnel or a pool of water.

  My heart rate kicks up and warning sirens go off in my head. “What’s the matter?” I demand. I don’t mean to come across as harsh, but I’ve never heard her voice sound like this. Ever. I have horrible scenarios going through my head—she’s hurt, someone she loves is hurt, some guy put his hands on her without her permission. I don’t know what the hell it could be, but I’m ready to go into rescue mode immediately.

  I hear her sniffle. Shit. I have no experience with this crap. I know I’ll do something stupid. Just wait and watch.

  “Sunshine? You’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll try to fix it.”

  “I’m all right. I am. It’s just, um… I’m wondering if I can come back to Dallas sooner than I planned.”

  I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “Of course you can. Why would you even ask that? But I thought you wanted to spend the last two weeks with your parents and see your brother when he visits?”

  “I did, but that’s not going to work out after all, and I just can’t sit here in my house all alone for two
whole weeks. I thought maybe I’d come up there and we could just start putting the songs together. You know, practice some more or something?”

  Now that I realize she’s not in any kind of serious trouble, I’m able to calm down and think. What the hell does she mean by, “that’s not going to work out”?

  “Jenny? You’re welcome to come up here tonight if that’s what you want. We can start working on the songs. We can take a trip. We can do whatever you want. My time is all yours for the next few months—in and out of the recording studio. But I think you’d better tell me what’s happened since you left here this morning.”

  She sighs, and I hear another sniffle. “Well, it all started off fine. I stopped in to the superintendent’s office and filled out the leave paperwork. They approved the leave—”

  “But something went wrong, so keep talking,” I command.

  “You’re bossy,” she complains, sounding like she’s feeling better.

  “You have no idea,” I tell her in a smarmy voice.

  “Gross,” she answers.

  I’m silent, waiting for her to quit deflecting and get down to business.

  “Then I went to see my parents.”

  Now I know exactly what happened. I should have figured. I’ve met the good reverend and his wife once, but I didn’t get a warm, friendly reception. I thought that, since they’d been pretty chill about this summer’s tour, they’d be okay with this too. I’m getting the strong feeling that that wasn’t the case.

  “And I’m guessing they didn’t take the news about the next few months very well.”

  “They disowned me, Michael. My daddy…he told me not to ever come back. He said…” As her voice fades, I feel a rage welling up in me like nothing I’ve ever felt. At least not since a few weeks after Loretta died.

  “He. Said. What?” I grind out.

  “He said I’m no better than a…a whore. That if I took your money and lived in your house, then that’s what I am, and he can’t have a whore in his family.”