She’s My Kind Of Rain (Rawlings Ranch #1)

Chapter 14

14

SAWYER - JUNE 21, 2004

I flip my phone shut, take a seat on the bench near me, and let out the breath I feel I’ve been holding in since my phone call started, noting the weight in Ms. Holloway’s voice when she complimented the song I had sung.

What was it about this song that seemed to affect people so deeply? I chose it to be different, to stand out. Seems that goal was accomplished, but maybe not entirely how I meant for it to be.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rhett approach.

“Well, what did the rep say?” He sits down on the bench beside me.

“She said hi,” I answer bluntly, not meaning to sound pissed off, but slightly jealous that she mentioned him. Also, why had she mentioned him?

“She gave ol’ Benny Southers her card so she could fuckin’ say hi?” Disbelief and anger cover his face.

“Oh, no, she told me to tell you hi.” I decide I’m acting like an unjustly scorned woman, so I wipe my attitude away as fast as it came, and continue, “We have a meeting set up once Mr. Montgomery returns from a trip. She said I need a demo CD or to play another live set around the time of his return, otherwise I’ll just have to play for the two of them alone.”

“Sawyer, thats fucking fantastic!” Rhett’s tone and gaze hold a layer of confusion in them, though, as he asks, “But, why do ya look like someone kicked your dog?”

“I don’t know. See, the other night when I sang, that girl I told you about, she seemed like the song had broken her soul. Today, Ms. Holloway complimented the song, but it almost sounded like she was sad or something. And then once she’d said it, it’s like she wanted to get off the phone as soon as possible.” I think for a moment of her tone changing from happy to something that felt more like sorrow, something I can’t yet pinpoint, and sympathy for whatever it is washes over me. “The song is about love, but now two women seem affected in a bad way by it. I never really thought of the way a song can hit someone differently than intended. I don’t know why, but I think I sort of feel bad about it.”

“Ah, I see. Well, like ya said man, everyone can feel the words to a song differently. Shit, that feelin’ could change daily based on what they are goin’ through.” He sends out a sound of consideration. “Like, hell, I love a good ol’ love song, but if I’m in a bad mood, I’m like ‘fuck this sappy asshole, he doesn’t know what he’s even talkin’ about.’ Sometimes love songs ain’t even about lovin’ someone at all, sometimes they’re about a love they wish they had or had once. So, don’t feel bad for makin’ them feel somethin’. I’d be more concerned if ya hadn’t.”

“I think we’re wearing down that rough and tumble cowboy persona that you are always pretending to have, Rhett,” I jest. “So, how do you know Miss Holloway?”

“So, uh, funny story. That little errand I said I had to run the other day landed me in one of those right place right time moments. I went into The Westmore, honestly lookin’ for Nancy. I realized I never done asked her if she knew who any of the local reps were, and if so, where they hung out.” He looks at his wrist watch, then back up to me. “Turns out when I walked near the bar some dipshit thought it would be nice to hit on Miss Daisy and her friend.” His tone changes for a split second at the mention of Daisy’s friend. “Listen, I’m all for gettin’ the attention of the ladies, but the guy was an ass and the dumbshit disrespected his cowboy hat almost as badly as he disrespected them.” Irritation now rings in his tone.

“Ah shit, Rhett, so I owe you an even bigger thank you for this, hey? You’re the only reason she was even at The Red Fern, aren’t you?” Just then, disappointment shows back up. “Wait, did she leave her card as a favor to you?”

His expression is much softer now than when he thought of the apparent asshole from the other bar. “Glad ya think I have that much pull, but no. I told her she’d like the music and people far better at The Red Fern. I never told her your slot, who I knew there, or nothin’. I’m the reason she made it to the bar, but your talent’s what got ya that card. Don’t you ever question that.” A grin forms on his face. “Her friend seemed to think I had an agenda, and they knew, without a doubt, that someone I cared about would perform at some point that night, but Miss Holloway made the notion that ya were my friend all on her own.”

I smile, satisfaction consuming me. Thankful that it was not a favor that landed me anything beyond the rep being at the right place to hear me.

I look into my friend’s eyes, amazed at how he always puts others before himself and what little he asks for in return. “Thanks, Rhett, really. For everything.”

“Hey, now, you’re the one with the talent, I’m just the good lookin’ one with the ideas,” he jokes. “Better get our asses back to work. What do ya think about breakin’ some more hearts this weekend?”

I think of the girl at The Red Fern. The likelihood of running into her is so small, I’d consider it impossible, but a guy can dream, right? “Maybe this time around, I could mend some.”