Southern Seduction (140 page)

“Hello?” he answered, his voice thick with sleep.

“Damn, I’m striking out. I’ll call you back later, man, since you’re sleeping.” He grumbled out a reply and hung up. Finally, I called Donnie.

“Hey, Bobby! How’s everything going in Redneck Country?” he chirped into the phone. That guy had more energy than several people combined. It must be a drummer thing.

“It’s okay. Dad has good days and bad. I wrote a new song for him and I’m working on one for my girl. You guys are going to—” I informed but was interrupted.

“Hold up. Your girl? Since when does Asshole Acey have a girl? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He was laughing hysterically into the phone, annoying the shit out of me.

“Fuck off, Donnie Dickhead. We wouldn’t be a band without the songs
I
wrote about
her
. She’s beautiful and perfect. Once she gets rid of her husband, I’ll make her mine.”

Now he was roaring with laughter. Shit, he might even be crying because he was laughing so hysterically right now. Calmly, I waited for his inconsiderate ass to shut up.

“Are you through?” I asked finally.

“Hell no,” he chuckled. “You went out to Redneck Country and found some chick with a husband. Are you listening to yourself, man? Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you made love to her and that she’s really your cousin.” He burst into another fit, and I refrained from hanging up on him.

“Well, now that you’ve made me feel like a big douchebag hick, let me finish my story. I’m here with my fucking muse and the song ideas won’t stop. I’ll work on some, and in a couple of months before we go on tour again, we’ll hit the studio to record this shit. Oh, I also hired her to help me with Dad. She’s staying with us and things are great with my girl-who’s-not-my-cousin who I made love to many, many times.”

He’d finally calmed down and his tone grew serious.

“Are you okay, Bobby? How are you holding up with your dad’s health? I know you texted us and told us he wasn’t doing chemo. Do they know how long he has?”

His sudden solemnity made me nauseated. My mind instantly thought about the bottle of Xanax in my bag. But the thought of possibly disrespecting June again overshadowed my need.

“I’m okay. Last night, playing that song for him… It really hit me. I got fucked up and said some terrible things to June. She forgave me, but I still feel like shit. It’s just that I know that he’s only got a couple of months at the very most. Since my mother deprived me of seeing him my entire teenage and adult life, I feel sickened that I’m going to lose him so soon after—” I choked out a sob, dropping the phone on the bed.

Burying my face in my hands, I thought really hard this time about the pills. The door opened and someone approached, picking up my phone with one hand and putting an arm around my shoulder with the other.

“Hi, I’m June. I’m sorry but Bobby can’t talk right now. Can I have him call you back?” She was silent a moment while Donnie said some things to her. “Donnie, you are a naughty man, ain’t ya? I bet Bobby might want to tan your hide for tryin’ to move in on his girl,” she teased in her adorable accent. I wiped my eyes with the palms of my hands and took the phone back from her.

“Donnie, you’re such a fucking asshole. What did you say to her?”

He was laughing so hard that I could barely contain my laughter and joined him. “I told her,
Bobby
, that a sweet Southern girl like her could use a little bad boy education from yours truly because clearly you’ve lost your edge.”

June

Mr. Sinclair, my attorney, informed me the divorce should be a quick and painless one since we didn’t own any property together or have any children. It was long overdue and I was more than ready for it to be over with. When I came back from Momma’s and walked in on Bobby’s conversation, I was heartbroken. It was devastating to see how hard he was taking his dad’s dying. After he hung up with Donnie, who was actually quite hilarious, his spirits had lifted.

“Hey, June Bug.” He was smiling up at me, his eyes still red from crying.

“Hey, Bobby.” I leaned over since I was still standing and kissed his lips. He took it as invitation and pulled me down into his lap.

“What do you say we try to get Dad out of the house today? He’s been in good spirits today. I thought maybe he might like to go somewhere.”

“Sounds great, Bobby. We can go to the diner for dinner. He loves that place. I know he’d probably like to see his friends.”

Getting out of his lap, I walked into the hallway to go tell Mr. Acer our plans. When I heard retching, I hurried into his bathroom. He was on his knees emptying his stomach into the toilet.

“Sutton, are you okay?” I stroked his back as he continued to vomit, shaking his head no. “I’m going to run and get you some ginger ale. I’ll be right back.” Hurrying from the bathroom, I slammed right into Bobby’s chest. I would have fallen on my ass had he not steadied me by grabbing my elbows.

“What’s wrong?” he asked me, alarmed.

“His stomach seems to be upset. Grab him a cold washcloth and put it on his neck while I get him something to settle his stomach.” He obeyed my order, hurrying to the cabinet below the sink.

When I came back with the soda and a handful of saltines, I found him sitting on the tub, rubbing his dad’s back.

“Sutton, please sip on this and try to get some crackers in you. You’ll feel better if you can do that.”

He nodded and shakily reached for the soda. His skin was a pale shade of grey, and I hid a shudder. Right now, he looked like death warmed over.

“Bobby, stay with him. I’m going to go get a bucket from the garage and put it by the bed. He should be lying down and resting. If he can stand to move, try to get him back to the bed.”

Blinking back tears, he snapped into action as he helped Mr. Acer stand up. I hurried to the garage and found a bucket, returning quickly. Bobby had Mr. Acer tucked into the bed by the time I got back. He had crawled into the bed next to his dad, and my heart shattered at how sad they both looked.

“Hey, Bobby, I’m going to go put some laundry in the wash and pick up a bit. I’ll start some chicken noodle soup for supper. Why don’t you stay in here and keep him company?”

He nodded without looking up at me.

For the next hour, I wiped down every surface in that house. I tried not to go all OCD, but it was hard not to because I didn’t know what to do with myself. The soup was simmering on the stove, so I decided to go check in on them. When I opened the door, tears filled my eyes. Both men had fallen asleep and Bobby’s arm was slung across his dad’s chest. Mr. Acer’s hand had a grip around Bobby’s wrist.

Spying the camera on the table, I turned off the flash as not to wake them and took several snapshots. I took some close-ups of their hands and faces. Zooming out, I took several photos of them lying there curled up together. Bobby looked very much like the twelve-year-old boy I remembered.

Setting the camera back down, I snuck back into the kitchen to check on the soup. Just when I was about to go wake Bobby, he dragged himself into the kitchen and sat down at the table. His hair was disheveled and he looked haggard. For the first time, I noticed bags forming underneath his eyes.

Placing the lid back on the soup, I walked over to him and put my arms around his neck, kissing his head. Silent sobs racked his body as I held him. I whispered quiet assurances into his hair as he cried.

Bobby

I couldn’t believe I had another breakdown in front of June. She was amazingly supportive and I couldn’t imagine doing this without her. When I finally stopped crying, she kissed my head once more and went back over to the dinner she was cooking.

“Need any help?” My voice sounded cracked and gravelly.

She just turned and smiled brightly at me. “Nope, I’ve got it. Would you like me to make you a drink?” My heart squeezed at her words. She knew I handled my sadness last night with a “drink,” and it was her way of telling me that she would understand if I needed one right now.

Trying to be strong for her, I shook my head. “Nah, babe. I think I’ll just grab a Pepsi from the refrigerator.”

She grinned, once again lighting up the room. That smile poured life into my heart, and I stood, stalking over to her. I took her cheeks into my hands and crashed my lips to hers, tasting her roughly. Her arms snaked around my neck as she let me lead how far this was going.

After a couple of minutes of heated kissing, I broke away. “If I don’t stop now, June, we’ll be having cold soup for dinner.” I pulled away from her and my dick practically whined in protest.
Down, boy.
Her pouty lip did nothing to help the current situation and I chuckled. “Woman, I’ll take care of you later. Don’t you worry.”

Dad was feeling much better after soup in bed and was joking like he hadn’t been sick all day.

“Tell me, son. How did you get into music?” His eyes twinkled, and I wanted nothing more than to feed him this little morsel of my past he’d missed.

“Well, it’s kind of funny. Mom made me join the band in ninth grade. I was a little quiet, and not many of my friends from middle school were in any of my classes. It seemed that hiding out in the back of the class would be a good way to pass the time. There were a lot of geeky kids in the class, and I was angry with Mom for forcing me to join.

“Some guy with shaggy hair and sagging pants sauntered in and plopped down in the chair beside me. His mouth was full of metal, but he was wearing a Pearl Jam t-shirt, so I deemed him as cool. He asked me what I played, and I flinched when I told him the tuba. After laughing his ass off and royally pissing me off, he admitted that he also played the tuba. Bastard.

“We got to talking about bands that we liked in common and I learned he was in a garage band. He said they were looking for a guitarist. I lied and told him I knew how to play. After he told me his name was Chaz, he asked me to come over after school and jam with them. I agreed and begged Mom to buy me a guitar once I got home. It took some convincing and promising to do every chore under the sun, but she took me to a pawn shop where we purchased my first guitar, an old Fender.

“I show up at Chaz’s house and met Manny and Donnie. They set up and started jamming. Not wanting to look like an idiot, I strummed and picked like I knew what was going on. After the song, Donnie laughed his ass off, telling me that I was ‘the worst fucking guitar player’ and asking when could I start. I guess it was more about our dynamic than skill at the time.

“Donnie actually taught me how to play, and pretty quickly I was able to duplicate any guitar solo from our favorite bands. The band was originally named CMD Boys, but when they added me, we changed it to The Aces, playing off my last name and the fact that we lived in Vegas. The guys and I have been tight ever since.”

Dad chuckled while June sat cross-legged and doe-eyed at the end of the bed. Both were eating up my story.

“It sounds like you really love those guys,” she observed. Her voice was far off, like having friends who you love was a completely foreign concept.

“I do. You’ll love them too when you meet them.”

She smiled and hopped off the bed. “Picture time!” Grabbing the camera, she turned it on and snapped a photo before we had even posed.