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Everyone laughed, including Billy. “Well, heck, I love you, too!”
A man who Mimi recognized as Keith Calloway, Fatback Bubba’s manager, came out onto the stage from the sidelines. He whispered something in Billy’s ear, then made a quick exit.
“I’m afraid my time is up,” Billy said. “I gotta get my beauty sleep so I can play for the good folks of Pensacola tomorrow night, but before I leave I want to give a big shout out to this little lady down here.” He pointed to Mimi. Everyone turned to look at her. “I hear she’s in charge of this shindig. From what I can see, she’d done a mighty fine job, too. I’ll tell you what, they don’t make mayors as pretty as that where I come from.”
There were a few catcalls from the audience. Zeke playfully made a show of raising his hand over his holstered gun. “Hey, that’s my wife you’re whistling at!”
The audience laughed again, then began crying out for an encore. They chanted Billy-Billy over and over until he relented and began to play again. He finished the song and ran off the stage, waving to the audience, who went crazy, stomping their feet and clapping. Mimi felt a little sorry for Harry Tuba. Did he really want to go on after this?
She glanced at her watch. It was nine-thirty. The festival was officially over in thirty minutes. In about an hour this place would be a ghost town. That’s when the hard work of cleaning up and making sure everything got closed down correctly would begin.
Zeke led her off the dance floor, guiding her toward the ticket booth. “We should go check up on Rusty and make sure everything is secured. Then you need to eat.”
Suddenly his entire body went frozen, causing her to collide against his hard back.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Why’d we stop?”
She followed his cold gaze all the way to an older man, standing just a few feet away. He was tall, almost as tall as Zeke, with dark hair overlaid with a generous helping of gray. His eyes were blue but, other than that, it was liking seeing a glimpse into the future. Mimi instinctively tightened the grasp on her husband’s hand.
“Hello, son.” The man looked nervous. As well he should be.
*~*~*
It had been eighteen years since Zeke last laid eyes on this man. He’d aged, of course, but he’d know Sam Grant anywhere.
“What are you doing here?” Zeke demanded. His voice came out more neutral than he’d expect under the circumstances.
“I didn’t mean for you to see me,” Sam said. His gaze skittered wildly between Zeke and Mimi, like he wasn’t sure what to do.
“I just…I thought since it was festival day, I’d come by and take a look. Walk around the place. This used to be my home, you know. I just wanted…” He shrugged and looked away.
Zeke had waited twenty-four years for this moment. Eighteen years ago, Sam Grant had been so drunk he’d hadn’t even known his own name. But he wasn’t drunk now. His eyes were clearer than the gulf on a hot summer afternoon. He’d remember everything now. Every word Zeke had ever planned to say to him, he’d remember it until it twisted in his gut and made him want to puke. The words were on the tip of Zeke’s tongue. Nasty, vicious stuff that he’d rehearsed over and over in his head, because he knew eventually this day would come. He wanted to say it all. Right now.
But nothing came out.
All that bottled up anger he’d suppressed for years seemed to flow out of his body somehow. It made no sense to him, but in this moment, all he felt was disgust. Sam might not be drunk. Not right now, but he would be again soon. A skunk was a skunk. Eventually, he’d stink things up again. It was just a matter of time.
Mimi squeezed Zeke’s hand. “I’m Mimi,” she said. “Zeke’s wife.”
Sam nodded, like he already knew. He looked grateful that Mimi had acknowledged him.
“You can’t be here right now,” Zeke said.
“I know…I don’t want to cause trouble,” Sam said. “But, I’ve tried to reach out to you every way I know how. Just let me say my peace and I won’t bother you again. I’m an alcoholic, Zeke. You know that better than anyone. And I’ve messed up. Badly. Not just with you and Allie, but with everyone who’s ever been in my life. I’ve been sober now for almost three years.”
“So what do you want? A medal?”
“I want to tell you I’m sorry. That I’m so sorry.”
“Okay. Great. You can check that off your twelve steps now.”
“Mimi!” A familiar laugh made the blood in Zeke’s veins freeze over.
Allie.
She and Tom were walking toward him, hand in hand. She seemed oblivious to the man standing just a few feet away from her. She reached out and hugged Mimi. “That was unbelievable! Okay, tell me now. How on earth did you get Billy Brenton to come play here?”
Mimi looked uncertain of what to do. She hugged Allie back and laughed skittishly. “I think you should ask Zeke that question.”
