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“It’s just up the street. Let me grab my bag, and I’ll meet you out front,” I told them, trying to convince myself this was a good idea.
As soon as the last word tumbled from my mouth, my stomach clenched, and a wave of fear rocked me to my core.
“What have I done?” I mumbled as I grabbed my purse from my small locker in the backroom.
The reality of being alone with them, in my tiny apartment, having to rehash all that shit from back when I was a teen, scared me silly.
I didn’t want to do it, didn’t want any part of it, especially not on a Sunday afternoon… my Sunday afternoon.
I stopped in the ladies room to freshen up a bit, but when I looked in the mirror, I realized there was little I could do other than maybe removing the mascara from under my eyes and adding some lip gloss. Or I could simply disappear out the back door, so I didn’t have to face any of them.
Apology or not, they probably wanted to know why I’d choked all those years ago, and why I hadn’t sung since then… well, except for Dusty’s funeral.
I washed my hands, dried them on paper towels, and left, knowing damn well that I had loved singing at the funeral… loved it more than I wanted to admit, even to myself… and I told myself everything!!
The whole thing frightened me. It brought up such mixed emotions that I could hardly breathe and walk at the same time.
Still, I made my way through the restaurant, smiling at folks as I went, as if everything was rosy bright with my world… which it very much was not.
Just breathe… in… out… in… out…
When I opened the front door to the restaurant and felt the warm sun on my skin, then spotted all three of my past heartthrobs and would-be band members admiring Dusty’s bright-red Eldorado, I suddenly flashed on anotherperfectly scandalousidea.
Rascal 4
“Should we take it for a spin?” Connie asked, coming up behind us, surprising the shit out of me. After listening to what Luke had to say about their earlier conversation, I assumed this pretty buggy might as well have a boot on one of its wheels.
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, turning to see her standing not more than a couple of feet behind me, grinning like she’d just come up with one of herperfectly scandalousideas.
I’d never forgotten those scandalous ideas of hers. They’d always been over the top, and nine out of ten times would lead us into trouble.
I hoped this was one of those times. Getting into trouble with Connie Manors, after all this time, seemed like aperfectway to spend our day.
Her entire demeanor had changed, and it seemed as though our old Connie, that fun, daring Connie, had returned. I didn’t exactly know how to handle the change, but this was the Connie I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. This was the Connie I saw on that video and had inspired me to gather up my two best friends and start on this path to return to our old hometown of Cricket, California.
Connie had always been a spitfire of a girl. Miranda Lambert’s song, “Hell on Heels,” could’ve been Connie’s theme song. Up until that fuck up on the American Idol stage, which threw all of us a curveball, we’d thought she was invincible.
“I think it’s time… it’s past time.” She pulled the keys out of her purse. “Who wants to drive?”
The words couldn’t spill out of me fast enough. “I do!”
She tossed me the keys to a car I’d been dreaming about driving since I was a kid.
I could hardly believe it. My hands shook from the anticipation of the much-dreamt-about event. I unlocked the doors, and we piled into the plush comfort of a classic Cadillac Eldorado with cushioned, white-leather seats, and enough leg room for a linebacker for an NFL team.
Five minutes later, I had the top down and covered with the white-leather canopy that snapped into place. The car looked stunning, and it caused my eyes to water just knowing I was the captain of this baby.
My day kept getting better and better.
I’d always admired Dusty’s cars, and this one with the plush leather seats… wide, comfy bucket seats in the front, and a wide bench seat in the back… had always been my favorite. The look and feel of the car was something to behold. I even had posters of cars like this taped up on my walls and on my ceiling when I was a kid, to remind me that I would eventually own one someday.
I’d never gotten the opportunity to drive one of his cars. Even though my dad and Dusty were best friends, despite their age difference, we’d moved before he would ever trust me behind the wheel, so this was more thrilling than I wanted to admit aloud.
And to have Connie sitting next to me, after all this time and everything that had gone down, was more than I’d ever thought possible.
Still, my fucking heart raced, and my hands continued to shake, as if Dusty himself were sitting next to me instead of Connie, judging my driving.
The fact that he’d left a classic Eldorado to Connie said a lot, probably more than she could ever understand. Rusty’s cars were like his babies. He probably took better care of them than he did his own family, and that was saying a lot.
