Anger mixed with fear creates an adrenaline surge that pulses through his body. He grips her arm, squeezing tight. “Don’t you dare threaten me. Here’s a news flash for you, Naomi. I don’t like you either. Then again, no one here does. If anyone’s going down, it’ll be you.”
He storms out of the office and hurries back to the safety of his blue bar. How much does Naomi know about his past? She called him Rhett and mentioned Georgia. And at the meeting yesterday, she said his friend from Atlanta had booked two rooms for the weekend and was staying for the party on Sunday. She was blowing hot air. Or was she? Who is that fisherman from Atlanta? Mack Lambert. Why is that name so familiar?”
Everett’s adrenaline level tanks, and he begins to quiver all over. Naomi is scheming something. He’s certain of it. Is she trying to get him fired? If so, why? What has he done to piss her off? Or is she just a vindictive bitch looking for trouble wherever she can find it? Regardless, Everett needs to tell Presley everything. He can’t risk her finding out the truth about Carla and Louie from someone else. And he doesn’t want their relationship to be based on lies. But he’ll have to wait until after the party. Presley can’t afford the distraction. For now, he should keep his distance.
He makes it through the rest of the day without seeing Naomi or Presley. Business is slow as usual. He spends the afternoon perfecting his signature cocktails for the party. Despite leaving work early, the library has already closed when he gets there. He’s desperate for an email from his mom. A nagging feeling tells him something is wrong in her world. He hates to admit it, but not having a cell phone is becoming a problem.
Cecily, who also spent the afternoon experimenting, has sent him home with a to-go bag of sample finger foods for the party. But he’s too worried about his mom to have any appetite. He removes his guitar from the closet and works on his new piece, a song about the challenges of being a recovering alcoholic. Everett can always count on music to calm his nerves and tonight is no different. When he hears his groupies calling for Music Man, he opens his window and performs his new song, “Just Say No.” The crowd goes wild for it.
He performs for over an hour, the usual oldies that energize the crowd. It’s Thursday night and they’re ready to party. He’s absorbed in his music, and when he hears clapping nearby, he’s surprised to see Presley in her window.
He sets his guitar inside his apartment and makes his way over to her. “How long have you been sitting here?”
She smiles up at him. “About twenty minutes.”
He rubs his one-day stubble. “I didn’t see you.”
“I noticed. You were totally into your music.”
He squeezes in beside her on the windowsill. With their bodies close, he can smell the flowery scent of her perfume. He’d like nothing more than to take her inside and make love to her all night long. But he’d vowed to keep his distance until after the party. They sit in silence for a long while.
She nudges him with her elbow. “You’re awfully quiet. Is something bothering you?”
He fakes a yawn. “I’m just tired.”
“Why don’t you ever talk about yourself, Everett? You know all about me, but I know virtually nothing about you. Except that you’re from Georgia.”
The hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. “How do you know that?”
She gives him a playful shove. “The license plate on your truck, silly.”
Damn. So, she noticed the plate after all.
She leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you’re from Atlanta. I have a bunch of college friends from Atlanta. You might know some of them.”
“I’m actually from North Dakota. Over the summer, I flew to Atlanta to see a buddy of mine. When I decided to stay on the East Coast, I bought that truck from one of his friends. I haven’t gotten around to transferring the tags yet.”
She pulls away from him, her gray eyes dark and full of suspicion. “What else are you hiding, Everett?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorting through some personal problems. I have some things I need to tell you, but I’d like to get through the party on Sunday first.”
Irritation crosses her face. “I don’t understand. Why wait until after the party?”
“Because you might not like what you hear. And I don’t want you to be distracted from your job.”
“We can work through anything, Everett, as long as you’re truthful with me.”
He pushes off the window to his feet. “The party ends at eight on Sunday. By the time we clean up, we’ll get out of there by nine thirty or ten. We’ll bring home some food, if there’s anything left, and camp out on Big Blue. I’ll tell you everything then.”
“Promise?”
Leaning over to kiss her cheek, he whispers in her ear, “I promise.”
Back in his apartment, he stretches out on his air mattress. He’d rather snuggle up to Presley in her comfortable bed. But he feels somewhat relieved now that she knows he’s struggling with some issues. She won’t be blindsided when he comes clean with her on Sunday night.
Promptly at nine on Friday morning, Everett places the call to Wade Newman from the landline in Billy’s Bar. While he waits for him to pick up, Everett says a silent prayer Wade doesn’t notice the Virginia area code.
On the third ring, he answers,
