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“Oh, sure. Sorry.” She sat back on her stool, eyeing him. “Sure you’re okay?”
“Pretty certain. Your ex slept with your sister?”
“Yep.”
“Fuck. That the same ex you were telling me about the other night?”
She winced. “Nope. But it does get worse.”
“How can it be worse than having two exes who cheated on you? One of whom did it with your sister?”
“She’s marrying the first cheating ex on Saturday.”
“Oh, fuck.”
Butch stared down at his girl.
No, not your girl.
She was trying to put on a brave face, but he understood how devastating that must have been.
“I’m so sorry, baby girl. You have to know you’re better off without either of those dicks.”
“Oh, I know. And if they hadn’t done that, I might not have had the gumption to pack up my stuff, leave my mom a note, and hightail it out of there to Nashville.”
“That’s where you’ve been living?”
“Yeah, I had some friends in college who lived in Nashville. I’ve always wanted to be a singer. Like, make a living from it. Singing was the only way I had of escaping when I was younger. It was my happy place. For a while, I worked crappy jobs during the week and sung during the weekends. I spent years doing that, but I was happy. I was free. Then, I met Axel.”
“The other cheating ex?” he asked. What was wrong with these men?
Idiots.
“Yeah. He’s the biggest jerk in Nashville. Maybe the whole of Tennessee. He had this band. The Randy Ponies. Stupid name. But they had a good sound, and they were looking for another vocalist, someone who blended well with Axel. I went to an audition and, to my shock, they chose me. We got close, started dating, and moved in together. I don’t know . . . maybe I was just grateful for his attention that I overlooked all the bad things. The way he’d talk down to me. How everything was my fault. His comments on my weight and looks.”
“Fucking bastard.” His fury grew. Had no one treated this girl properly? Shown her how a real man took care of his woman?
Not your job.
“Yeah, he was. But the saddest thing is that I stayed with him because I thought that was what I deserved. I had self-esteem issues before getting into the relationship with Axel. And he made things so much worse. But I should have had the guts to tell him to fuck off. To leave. Only problem was . . . the band was his, and though I was the better vocalist, they stayed loyal to him. The apartment we lived in was in his name. The car was his. It all belonged to him.”
“Fucking asshole. He kicked you out?”
“Yep. One day I came home to find him fucking this girl that had been hanging around the band a lot lately. I didn’t think anything of it before that. I stupidly trusted him. But then he told me that none of it was working out. Not our relationship. Not my place in the band. That they needed a different sort of look if they were going to get anywhere. I mean, I agreed. We needed a better name and decent management. Axel was in charge of both of those things. But he decided that the band’s problem was me.”
“Oh, baby.”
“So not only was Missy replacing me in their relationship, but she also took my spot in the band. His betrayal stung. But not being part of the band . . . that truly hurt. I liked the other guys, and while I understood that he was their friend first, I thought we had become close. She can’t harmonize for shit, though. I went to listen to them once. Just to punish myself and to see what made her better than me. She and Axel sounded awful together and it made me feel so good. I know that makes me sound petty. Sorry.”
“You’ve got no reason to apologize. He’s a shitty human being.”
“He really was.” She finished her second drink. He wondered if she’d even noticed Ronny bringing it. “Now, you have my whole sob story.”
Hmm, he wondered if that was all of it. Still, he didn’t want her to look sad any longer. He wanted her smile to return. He studied her for a long moment, taking in the long-sleeved black blouse and tight leather-look pants.
Damn.
Stop checking her out.
“You can sing, huh? I saw the guitar in your room. You compose as well?”
“Yep. I’m the real deal.” She grinned back as he signaled for another drink for her. He was done, he had to drive.
“Gonna write a song about me?” he asked.
“About the hero who prevented me from having to go to my bitchy sister and cheating ex-boyfriend’s wedding alone? You bet I am. Besides, you’ve got a hot ass. That always goes down well in a song. And it’s easy to rhyme. Bass, pass, grass, tass.”
