“I’m not sure I can,” I tell him honestly.
“Well, try.” He shrugs. “She’s young and she made a presentation that impressed me. She mentioned integrating social media into the tour promo and I’m not stupid. I know the guy with the Instagram and the Tweeter and all that shit is the one getting the most attention.”
I’m pretty sure it’s Twitter, but I’m with him there. Robyn handled that shit for the band when we first started out, then Dixie took over. I hate doing it now. I suck at it, too, which Mandy constantly reminds me. If it weren’t for her nagging, I’d skip it altogether.
“So then nothing happened with you and Robyn? Ever?”
He finishes his water and shakes his head. “Other than her raking my ass over the coals because she thought I’d hired her for her body? Nope. And like I told her, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed. But that wasn’t my intention and it never made it there.” There’s a slight twinge of disappointment in his voice that makes me want to take another shot at him. “Funny thing,” he says, gesturing to the bartender to refill my shot glass. “Once you showed up, she hardly noticed me anymore. And no offense, kid, but I’m a hell of a lot better looking than you.”
I almost laugh. Almost.
“Yeah, well, she obviously got over it. Tonight she said we couldn’t do this anymore and that there was someone else.”
“Maybe she was lying.”
I don’t even pause to consider that. “Robyn doesn’t lie. She’s the most honest person I know.”
“Did you ask who it was?”
“I kind of bailed before we made it that far. Or before I broke every stick of furniture in her apartment in a blind rage.”
Wade rubs his jaw, then stares at me so hard I almost ask if he’s trying to get my number. But then he leans back and winks at the brunette watching him from across the room. “Well, maybe she wasn’t lying then. Maybe you just didn’t give her a chance to tell you the entire truth.”
“I don’t know if it even matters. What matters is that she ended it.”
Right? Fuck. Now I’m confused.
“Look.” Wade clears his throat and turns to nod at the brunette. “I’ve got another situation to handle, so I’m going to make this quick. Listen close.”
I take my second shot of bourbon and nod.
“When I was seventeen, I was nobody. A farmer’s kid being groomed to take over a farm that had been in my family for decades. I went to a bonfire after graduation, thinking I’d get drunk and blow off some steam. Drink to the privileged motherfuckers going off to college while I shoveled cow shit.”
Well, this is an unexpected trip down memory lane. I signal for another shot, twirling my finger so the bartender will keep them coming. Once Wade leaves with his barfly, I’ll be drinking alone and it will be twice as pathetic.
“But you didn’t, obviously.”
“No, I did. But at that bonfire, I played a few songs on my guitar just for the hell of it. Then I went to put it back in my truck and caught some rich preppy asshole assaulting the prom queen.”
Jesus.
“So I bashed the asshole over the head with my guitar and knocked his sorry ass out cold.”
“Nice.” I nod in appreciation. Sounded about like what I would’ve done.
“Yeah, well. Turns out Aubrey Evers—she was the prom queen—had left the party because she’d heard a song I’d sung and it had made her feel something. Something that made her want to get out of our small town and see the world. My song, some words I strung together out of nowhere, you know? Fuck, that messed me up good, knowing I’d affected her like that. I didn’t think she’d even known I’d existed in high school.”