Loving Dallas(34)

Again my sister sighs. I contemplate sending her an inhaler.

“I think you could be more up front about your feelings for her sometimes instead of pushing her away. I think whatever happened between the two of you was complicated and that it left a mark on you. You tend to go overboard sometimes trying to keep people from getting too close. That can be hurtful, you know?”

“I see. So what do you think I should do about it? Send her some flowers with a card that says, ‘Sorry for being such a dick’?”

My sister laughs at me as if I’m kidding. I am not kidding.

“I think you should apologize in a more meaningful way. One that says more than just sorry but lets her know that you’re going to try and do better in the future.”

“Right. I’ll see if I can get that iced on a cake.”

“You sound tired still. Get some sleep, Dallas.” With that my sister pretty much hangs up on me.

I should sleep some more. The show will run late tonight. But there’s a song in my head, one Robyn inspired, so mostly I write. When I come to a lyric I can’t make fit, I pick up my guitar and try to play through it.

“Patience isn’t enough,” Papa used to say when I’d get tired of a song I couldn’t master. He’d hand me my guitar time and time again after I’d set it aside. “Persistence is just as important. It’s what sets you apart from the quitters.”

I’d huff and puff and pout, but I’d take the guitar and try until I got it.

“Life is what you make, boy,” he’d tell me. “You get back what you put in. You quit on life and it will quit on you right back.”

I don’t go back to sleep until I’ve finished the song.





20 | Robyn

BY THE TIME WE REACH CHARLOTTE, I HAVE COOLED DOWN CONSIDERABLY. Both from my humiliating encounter with Jase Wade and my anger at Dallas.

Katie talks me through it as we follow behind the convoy, reminding me that it’s sweet that Dallas cares, though he could certainly demonstrate that concern in more appropriate ways. But then he wouldn’t be Dallas. After a hot shower and a good night’s sleep in the hotel, I decide it’s a new day and I’m not going to let my past cast a shadow on it.

At least that’s the Kool-Aid I’m drinking until I see him.

Dallas is in the middle of sound check when we arrive at the amphitheater. He’s wearing a Midnight Bay trucker hat and his black T-shirt fits just snug enough to make me jealous of how close it is to those muscles.

He’s performing a new song, one I haven’t heard before. “Tough All Over” must be the title because it’s repeated several times in the chorus. I catch a line about how she can throw anything at him she wants, a kiss, a hug, even a right hook. If she wants to cry, he’ll be her shoulder. ’Cause he’s tough all over.

I’m frozen where I stand, setting the Midnight Bay free sample boxes around the stage for the drink girls to distribute.

I have twenty dollars in my pocket that says that song is about me. And deep down, I have always been a Dallas Lark fangirl.

A few of the women who are working for the venue stop what they’re doing to listen, too.

This is Dallas in his element. Strong. Seductive. Charismatic and hot as asphalt on a sunny day.

Damn him. Damn him to hell in his tight jeans and his cocky country boy swagger.

Look away, Robyn, my subconscious warns me. But I can’t. He’s up there in all his glory and I have the ideal view.

When the tempo ramps up and he launches into a cover of a song called “Take It Out on Me,” I practically have to wipe the drool from my chin. It’s not until a few of the workers step over and ask for his autograph and he quits playing to sign their stuff that I manage to tear myself away.

Katie hangs back with a knowing look.

“Not a word, Katie-O. Not a word,” I command as I walk by with my now-empty boxes.

She laughs. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I could hear your thoughts.”

She nods. “Uh-huh. And I could hear yours. You, my friend, are a naughty, naughty girl.” She shoves me lightly as we walk over to the VIP area.

“Yolo,” I say, using the phrase we both make fun of that means You Only Live Once.

“So true,” Katie says, pretending to ponder the sentiment deeply. “So very true.”

I don’t know if it’s how well the meet-and-greets go, or just how much fun Charlotte folks are, but I’m in a fantastic mood when the show ends. I’m not even as tired as I normally am after running around for hours. So when Katie and Drew ask me if I’m up for grabbing a drink at a college bar nearby, I say yes.

It becomes abundantly clear about half an hour in that I am very much a third wheel, but as long as they don’t mind, neither do I. I knew they were hanging out a lot when we were on the road, but I didn’t realize how serious it was until I saw them dancing.

Talk about sexual tension. Hot damn.

Drew is quiet. He pretty much hides behind his camera for the most part. I don’t know much about him except that he’s from Portugal, a retired athlete in his thirties turned photographer, but when I see the way he moves with Katie on the dance floor I am seeing the guy in a whole new light.

When the bump-and-grind makes me blush, I finally have to look away.