Same time next week, p.33
Same Time Next Week, page 33
“I’ll do my best. If she’ll let me.”
Roberto clapped him on the shoulder, letting out a garbled chuckle. “She may not let you do very much. Push her. It’ll be good for her.”
Jackson laughed along, nodding his head, reaching for the handle of her suitcase. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir. And when she gets mad at me, I’ll tell her…”
“I didn’t say a word…”
He walked away, his hands up, mumbling and laughing to himself. Jackson wrestled the suitcase out of the door and dropped it into the trunk of Shelby’s car. Right behind him, the door opened and Shelby came out. Roberto and Evelyn followed.
“Drive the speed limit, now. None of this going ninety miles an hour, like when you drove down here. And call me when you get to Orlando. And let me know when you’re coming back.”
Shelby turned when she reached the car, dumped her purse in the driver’s seat and opened her arms. “Mom… hug me and go back in the house before you start crying.”
Jackson looked on, amused as Evelyn and then Roberto and then Evelyn again hugged Shelby, showering her with kisses and strokes to her hair until she got flustered and ducked into the car. He took his cue to slide into the passenger seat next to her. He’d just closed the car door when she turned the key in the ignition, yelled, “Bye!” out of her window and began to back out of the driveway.
“Ye gods. It was like I was leaving for college or something.”
Jackson laughed. “They love you. I think they’re great.”
Shelby rolled her eyes, ran a hand through her hair, and adjusted her sunglasses. And then smiled. “They’re pretty great, huh? I love them back.”
Jackson reached toward the CD player and pressed play. “What do you have in here?”
“The Greats,” Shelby answered, wistful as the smooth, silky voice of Frank Sinatra poured from the speakers, seeping into the air. “This is real music to me. Passionate and big. Instrumental. It’s one of the things Lucas and I had in common.”
“And now you and I do. This is the stuff that makes it even possible for me to do what I do. I owe my career to some of these guys."
Jackson turned the music down, settling into his seat. The drive would be an easy one. He had Shelby by his side and a few weeks of peace before he would have to think about Rod and the band and work and a tour. It felt good to be going home. To Orlando.
“Jackson…” Shelby stared ahead, watching the road, but behind her shades, her eyes blinked rapidly. She swallowed over and over.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why does something always have to be wrong?”
“Well, you called my name and then you look all… like something’s wrong. What?”
She huffed like he was supposed to be able to read her mind and had failed to do so. "I love you, okay? That’s it.”
He stared at her profile for a few seconds before a flippant “I knew that,” fell out.
“Well. Good.” Shelby exhaled, her shoulders dropping the tension; her chest relaxing, her fingers loosening in their white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. “Now I know it, too.”
Jackson directed his attention ahead of them at the road and began to smile, bobbing his head to the music. After a few minutes, Shelby let one of her hands drop from the steering wheel and land in his lap. He grabbed it up like it was a prize, wound his fingers between hers and clutched the jumble of hands to his chest.
“Love you too, you know.”
“Yeah.” Shelby smiled and nodded. “I knew that.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Are you… in love with me?”
Shelby inhaled, deeply. He waited. He knew what was coming… he wanted to hear the words.
“More than you might ever know, Jackson.” She shook her head, lost in her thoughts, not even realizing how much she’d given him. “More than you’ll ever know.”
EPILOGUE
The following year, late Spring
Jackson
He stood at the front of the room, arms crossed, a thumb working his bottom lip. Deep in thought, he barely heard the question until Rod repeated it.
“Jackson? Whatcha thinkin’? We did every song. No big mistakes. Sounds good. Feels epic. But you’re the boss. Are we ready?”
Jackson paced from one end of the room to the other in front of the makeshift stage. He’d taken a leap with this job. A huge one. He had no idea what he was doing, no idea what a music idrector was even supposed to do. Or be. Rod had given him full reign and all of his trust and a year later, there was an album with his songs on it and in a few weeks they'd be leaving on a world tour that he’d put together. Things were falling into place and if Jackson hadn’t have been so calculated, planning every step, every move, every note, he’d have been scared shitless.
Hell, he was still scared shitless. But they were ready.
He pulled his thumb from the corner of his mouth, lifted his eyes to the four band members staring at him, waiting for an answer.
“Well,” he said, approaching his music stand, slapping the pages together in a jumbled stack and then climbing down from the platform. “I think it’s time for a drink. Let’s go celebrate.”
Shelby
“Swank-y!”
The loud voice and low wolf whistle behind her was as familiar to her as her own voice, but Shelby was still surprised to hear it. Her first customer on the first day of Grand Opening Week at Shelby’s was none other than Jackson and his merry band of musicians—Rod, Duke, Sam and Cole. Jackson had brought them all, in lieu of tour rehearsal to have a drink at Shelby’s bar. This was a big deal, she realized. Jackson was all about work.
“Welcome to Shelby’s. I’m Shelby!”
Jackson laughed as she came around the shiny, waist high bar. She slid her arms around him, tipped her head up and let Jackson’s lips drop onto hers. She savored the kiss with a hum from deep inside her while she kissed him back. When they finally pulled away from each other, she waved to the other guys standing in the middle of the bar and gawking at every little thing.
“I’m so proud of you, honey. It looks great in here."
He kicked a toe against the gleaming wood floor, roved an eye over to the tall tables and chairs littering one section and the lounge-like area at the opposite end, lined with comfortable, plush couches and chairs. A fireplace with hearth seating separated the two spaces. In the winter, Shelby imagined people would sprawl around it, soaking in the heat of the fireplace on either side, perched on pillows with their glasses of wine or port, shots of whiskey or bottles of beer while waitresses made their way around with baskets of pretzels and trays of hors d'oeuvres.
Shelby’s was her dream. Everything she loved about the place that sparked her vision and everything she’d wished it had been, she poured into her own creation. Building the bar, creating the menu, designing the décor and the drinks and the ambiance did wonders for absolving the long standing guilt she’d held over… everything. Her relationship with Lucas that was so wrong but in some ways, so right. His death and her hand in it. The settlement, the confrontation with Melina, but most especially how Jackson made her stand up and fight for herself. All of it gave her strength–strength she’d poured into every floorboard, every tile, every beer tap and every bottle of top shelf alcohol lining the wall of the bar.
She’d made it. And she was proud of herself.
“What’s a Lucas?” Rod was studying the selection of Spirits, his finger running down the list.
“Scotch,” Shelby answered. “Top shelf.”
The band had crowded around a table, laughing and telling jokes to and about one another. More than one joke centered on Jackson, but he laughed along and took it in stride. Shelby kept leaving the table because she was working, welcoming each guest as the hostess, making her rounds to see that everyone was taken care of. The background music to the dull roar of conversations going on around them varied from jazz to classic rock to big band to pop.
Shelby put on Evil Side of Me and watched Rod beam with pride during the entire three and a half minutes it played.
“Might have created a monster,” Jackson said, when Shelby reclaimed her seat next to him.
“How so?”
“You play Rod Phillips in here. Rod Phillips likes to hear Rod Phillips. You’ll never get rid of him, now.”
The table erupted in laughter, high fives slapping all around.
“If Rod Phillips brings me customers, I’ll play Rod Phillips all day.”
“So will it be weird for you to run this place?” Rod asked, downing his second Lucas of the night. “I mean, a barkeep is pretty much a nocturnal job. Like ours. It’s not unusual for us to be getting out of work when people are just waking up. You know that from dating Jackson, here.”
“It’s something we’ve always had in common.” She smiled, glancing over at him, sliding a hand across his lap. “Did Jackson ever tell you how we met?”
“Nope, never heard it.”
“Well, it’s the story of how a pop star got caught leering at an innocent fellow shopper suffering from insomnia. She was looking for a little distraction, not this dirty old man, staring at her ass from behind an endcap–"
“Oh, here we go.” Jackson rolled his eyes, holding up his hands in defense against the already building laughter. A waitress stopped by to drop a basket of pretzels and a tray of nachos in the middle of the table, gather the empties and take orders for refills.
Shelby nodded at her, laughing along with everyone else, enjoying the happy moment and knowing that were many more to come.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
There are so many without whom this book would not have come to fruition. Sushi, Vix, The Totally Awesome Group of Totally Awesome Writers, the NF girls and everyone who pestered me to put this work out. Many thanks to you all!
Thanks also goes to V Marz for the cover design, Candy for her Beta talents and Jamie K for her editing services! Your assistance and expertise are greatly appreciated.
As always I am grateful for the support from my “seasoned” readers who keep me going with incessant requests for new material and I issue a warm welcome to my new readers and a thank you for picking up this novel. I hope you enjoyed it and that you'll be back for more.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As the daughter of a serviceman, I am formerly from all over the place; however I have lived in the grandest city in the south, Atlanta, since early 2003. I'm a northwestern girl at heart but I think I've finally got this southern thing down... the tea is sweet and the fish come with grits!
I'm a lover of technology, a fan of Brunch and am seriously addicted to coffee. I am hardly ever serious and ridiculously sarcastic. I devour books (and Skittles) and blog my reviews and thoughts on writing at http://TheSweetEscape.net.
I have been writing for most of my life but began seriously pursuing a writing career in 2009. More than four years later, my dream of becoming a published author has come true!
For more information about me or my writing, I'm a click away! Find me online at:
Website
Amazon Author page
OTHER TITLES BY THIS AUTHOR
ANONYMOUS, a Short Story
Brunch at Ruby’s
DL White, Same Time Next Week
