Davis Read online

  It was the main reason I had moved to Savannah in the first place; to get away from constant reminders of him. I had chosen Savannah because of the good memories I had here during spring break a couple of years ago. But living here was difficult, with no family and friends nearby.

  With a shrug, I headed up to the bar to unload my tray and put in my drink orders into the small kiosk. Dalton, the evening bartender, was talking up a pretty blonde who had a bad habit of playing with her hair. I had seen her in the bar before. She seemed to have her eye on Dalton. I figured she had a 50/50 chance of scoring with him. He was building quite the reputation, I thought.

  But she would need some good luck, I thought with a smirk. That one was a confirmed bachelor, never spending more than one night with a woman and then moving on. He was having too good a time to settle for just one, he told me once with a wink.

  And why not, I thought? Falling under the spell of one person sucked. Especially if that man wasn’t interested in settling down to just one woman, I thought with a grimace.

  Forcing those thoughts down, I headed to the bathroom, while I waited for my drink orders to be made.

  In the quiet of the back room, I made my way to the employee bathroom. As I washed my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror. My unsmiling face looked back at me. I really needed to smile more, I thought grumpily. No one wanted to be with a person that constantly had a frown on.

  I smiled widely, checking my teeth for any food stuck from my lunch earlier. They looked white and clean. Closing my mouth, I looked at my reflection. My eyes were a dark brown and looked almost black as they stared back at me. My Italian heritage was obvious as I scrutinized my skin, so white with my dark hair and eyebrows showing in stark relief.

  I looked down at the frosted tips of my long hair. I loved experimenting with my hair, trying new styles or adding different shades of color. Right now, I had added long blonde streaks at the ends of my hair. The style was unique, and I liked the way it turned out.

  My eyes were something else. I tended to wear dark eye makeup and eye liner, which probably didn’t help my brooding look, I thought. Maybe I should try something lighter like pink or a pale blue. Leaning in, I noticed a line forming beside my mouth. When I smiled into the mirror, it went away but when I frowned, there it was, showing up beside my mouth.

  Lovely, I thought. Ok Steph, maybe that’s your sign to try smiling more often, or suffer even more frown lines.

  Turning away from the mirror in disgust, I made my way back to the bar, and loaded my tray up with drinks, making my rounds.

  As the night continued, I was glad of the crowd. It helped to make the evening pass quicker.

  Finally, the bar was starting to become less crowded, people coupling up and walking out together. Ahh, another successful night for some, I thought. It was already almost 1am, and I was glad my shift was coming to an end.

  I just wanted to go home and take a shower. Working with drinks all night, it wasn’t uncommon to feel sticky after my shift. I looked down at the black shirt I had worn, and was happy to see no stains. Maybe that is why I gravitated towards the darker colors. Any spills often didn’t show.

  Working to clear off the quickly emptying tables, I was taking the glasses to Steve, the other bartender working, faster than he could keep up. He looked up, smiling at me in thanks. He was the manager at night, and I liked his easy going management style.

  Really, the group I worked with at Pops was great. All of us were hard workers, and it made working much more enjoyable when you worked alongside someone that was putting in as much effort as you were.

  I looked around the bar, and there were only about twelve customers left. It looked like I might be able to get out of here a little bit earlier than normal, and I was happy about that. Then smile, I reminded myself.

  I was in the far back wiping down tables when that song came on again. I had gotten to the point, I could figure out what song was going to play after the first few bars of music played.

  The sound of his gravelly voice sounded good and I listened to his words.

  It’s not right, unless it’s with you.

  I can’t stop, when it’s with you

  With you…With you….With you

  I only feel love, when it’s with you

  Why can’t you let me be…With you.

  I knew a lot of his songs, but this one, I hadn’t heard until one night weeks ago when it had come on late night radio. I liked listening to the late night radio, as they tended to play the newer songs. The station I listened to had an evening program dedicated to newer songs, from up and coming artists or songs from well-known artists featuring songs of theirs that were too new to be in the top forty charts yet.

  I had just moved into my apartment, and was up late cleaning cupboards in the kitchen, getting ready to lay down some contact paper so I could unpack the boxes of dishes I had brought.

  Something about the song had brought a chill to me, and I had listened so intently. Now, I didn’t want to hear it anymore.

  I knew Davis, and I knew how he wrote his songs. He wrote about real life, about his life, and this song told me he had found someone. Someone he might feel more for than the groupies he usually spent time with.

  My stomach clenched, and I tried my best to block out the song.

  I didn’t want to think of Davis. I had already spent way too much time thinking about him. It was time for me to move on already; past time, if I was honest with myself.

  I started from the back, cleaning off tables and then wiping them down, collecting any tips that might have been left behind. As I worked my way to the front of the bar, the place was practically empty.

  I emptied my tray of the last of the dirty glasses. Now, to lift all the chairs onto the table so the cleaners could mop, and then I could go home.

  Dalton started helping me and before too long, we were ready to lock up and leave. I looked around and couldn’t see blondie, the woman Dalton had been talking to earlier.

  “Damn, if I had been a betting woman, I would have thought blondie was going to be the flavor of the night for you,” I told Dalton teasingly.

  He smiled widely, making his attractive features even more attractive. “Nope,” he said grinning. “I am being a good boy tonight.”

  Laughing, I reminded him, “Well shoot, it’s only Friday night. You always get better pickings on Saturday anyways.”

  There was just Dalton, Steve and I left. Bailey always left an hour earlier than the rest of us, as she came in the earliest. I went to the back, pulling my purse from the locker, after washing my hands, and waved at Dalton and Steve as I left.

  I didn’t drive to work now that I had my own place because it was only a block away. That was the nice part of the apartment. The lousy part is it was above a restaurant. Certainly having a restaurant nearby could be convenient but living above a restaurant had its challenges.

  As I walked up the stairs, I could already smell the odor. I wrinkled my nose. It smelled like they had a busy night, I thought as I swung open my door. The odor was definitely stronger inside my apartment, and I walked around, turning on various wax melting pots I had put out throughout the entire apartment.

  Garlic, I thought sniffing the air, with maybe some onions thrown in. Normally, I loved eating garlic and onions. But since moving in, I had begun to hate that smell.

  I actually was fearful for my clothes. If my apartment smelled like this, then it had to be on my clothes, towels, bed sheets, blankets and any other fabric I owned.

  With no washing machine and dryer, it was unreasonable to do laundry every day, as it would mean I would be at the laundromat daily. Instead, I had purchased some plastic garment bags, zipping as many as my clothes as I could fit into those.

  When my mom came and visited me, she was stunned I was living in such a tiny space, with the air smelling the way it did, and the decrepit state of the apartment, but it was all I could afford. She, better than anyone, knew it was important to
me to make my way on my own.

  The landlord had been receptive when I asked if I could paint, at my expense, and redo the cabinets in the kitchen, again at my expense, and any other improvements I wanted. My mom had been scathing, saying to me, “Of course they were receptive! You do all the work and pay for all the materials and they will reap the benefits!”

  And I knew she was right, but now that college was over until mid-September, I needed to do something with my time. Sure, I had the job at Pops three nights a week and another part-time job writing articles for several magazines, but that took up such a small amount of time.

  Since I was new to the area, I didn’t know anyone. I probably could have befriended Bailey, but she had a new boyfriend, and I knew all her available time was spent with him. I wasn’t worried. I was sure to make friends when school started.

  Besides, I would reap the benefits of spending time remodeling, because I would live in a nicer apartment. I still had another year left at college, and then who knows after that. I could live here for years and years, I thought. Nothing said I had to move back home to Atlanta. I could live anywhere. That sentiment was why I left my old college, and moved to Savannah. My mom still was confused why I made the move now, when I was almost finished with college.

  Certainly living at home and attending a local college, I wasn’t forced to work as much as I had to do now. But it was time to get away from home, and move into my first place. Probably past time, I thought cynically.

  Stripping out of all my clothes, I stepped into the small confines of my shower, thankful for the good water pressure and the excess amounts of hot water. The water pelted my body, reinvigorating me.

  Like I needed to be reinvigorated at 2:30am, I thought cynically. But I knew it would be hours before I could sleep. It had always been this way with me; staying up all night, and sleeping during the day. In Savannah, that worked fine. Heck, anywhere in the south in July that worked well, as the humidity here in the summertime was hell.

  I had grown up in a small town south of Atlanta, so I was use to the humidity. Perhaps it was a little bit better in Savannah, due to the ocean, but not much.

  I always enrolled in classes that started at noon or later. So since leaving high school, my typical bed time was usually at dawn. Now that I lived above a restaurant that closed by ten every night, I didn’t have to worry about waking neighbors, and since moving here, I no longer had to worry about keeping quiet for my mom and her husband Gil, as I was finally able to live alone.

  I was used to the late hours now. Davis had been the same, always staying up late. In fact, when he was staying at home, he and I would spend that quiet time, when everyone in the house was asleep except for us, to talk about his music, or his latest song he was writing or whatever else we had going on in our lives.

  He had been the one that inspired me to work towards a degree in English, always complimenting me on my writing abilities. Before he moved to Nashville, he and I began writing songs together and hanging out. It was during one of our late night meetings that I realized I was falling in love with him.

  Since my mom married his dad, he had never lived in the house permanently when I was growing up. He only stayed there during holidays and occasionally other times as he lived on his own. It had been that way since I had known him. This last time he stayed with us, he had stayed for almost three weeks just before his big move to Nashville earlier this year.

  In all, he and I hadn’t spent all that much time together. He had a life of his own and I was too young to hang out with anyways. But during those weeks he stayed with us, I had come to know him. I knew he wasn’t perfect. He had a way of forgetting everyone else except for himself at times. But he eventually realized and made a concerted effort to remedy it by asking questions and taking interest in others.

  He had such a drive to succeed and his talent was outstanding, but more than anything, he had such a positive outlook and seemed to embrace life. Even if he was doing nothing more than folding laundry, he made it fun. His exuberance for life was one of the things I loved most about him.

  He certainly didn’t feel the same way about me. I knew that. He enjoyed his freedom too much to want to stick with just one woman. He never had serious girlfriends when I was growing up; never bringing home any girl to meet our parents.

  Now that his music career was taking off, he was meeting more women than ever. How many times had I been back stage at one of his concerts and seen the lineup of girls vying for his attention? He certainly wasn’t pushing them away. No, he was having too much fun. I could never let him know how I felt about him.

  And I was certain he hadn’t guessed how I felt either; at least, not until one night about three months ago. That’s when I high tailed it away from him and out of Atlanta.

  Sure, I waited weeks in the hopes he would call to talk about that night, and when I hadn’t heard a word from him, I had decided I needed to get away. His dad would talk non-stop about him, and I just couldn’t take the constant reminders of him. Clearly, he didn’t feel the same as I did, and that was reason enough to pack up my stuff and move away.

  I am sure our parents wouldn’t approve of my falling in love with Davis either, so I had to move on and away.

  CHAPTER 2-DAVIS

  As I shut the door to my hotel room, I leaned back against it, a sigh of relief escaping. I enjoyed my time alone, more so now than ever before. In the last month or so, since my song With You went into the top forty, my life had begun to change. Before, I always had someone with me, either by design or by choice. Lately, I preferred to be alone.

  I stepped away from the door, walking further into the room, and pulling off my shirt, dropping it on the floor, making my way to the A/C unit near the balcony door. Flipping the switch to on, I turned the fan up to high, looking forward to the cooling blast.

  I looked around the room, and realized this A/C unit would have a difficult time cooling this room. The room was large, dominated by a king size bed, but there was also a second room with a couch and two arm chairs and a mini fridge. I kicked off my shoes, looking on the walls for a thermostat.

  I finally located it and lowered the temperature down to 67 in the hopes that would get the A/C running. Heading over to the mini fridge, I found a bottle of water, opening the top and chugging half the bottle.

  I spotted my suitcase over by a closet, and contemplated taking a shower, but I didn’t feel like it. Instead, I sat on the bed, glancing over at the clock. 2:30am on Friday night. Late, by most people’s standards, but it was the time of the night I enjoyed the most.

  Adrenalin still pumping through me after tonight’s show, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, setting it on the end table, and put a couple pillows behind my back, leaning back against the headboard.

  I had to think a moment, trying to remember what city I was in? Virginia, I remembered. Ashland? Or was it Richmond? I shrugged. What did it matter? The day after tomorrow, I would be Greensboro, North Carolina for another show.

  I enjoyed performing live. It was seeing the crowd, their positive vibe creating excitement that I know could be heard when I sang. My fans in the crowd were like a dream come true for me. To perform in front of people that got my music, it is what every performer first dreams of. At least, it was for me.

  I could remember sitting up late at night with Steph, my stepsister, discussing my music, my hopes and dreams and all of my aspirations. Steph had always been a good sounding board.

  I smiled just thinking of her. She was a great listener, and would allow me to go on and on, and she would smile and respond and encourage. Oftentimes, I had to visibly stop myself from rambling, and start asking her questions about her hopes and dreams and aspirations.

  She wouldn’t ever volunteer them. I had to work at getting her to talk about herself, I remembered with a smile. Thank God I did, because what I discovered about her had impressed me. Hell, not only had it impressed me, but she had helped me to.

  I had no idea tha
t she loved writing. One night, I was visiting home and we had naturally gravitated together, after the house had gone to bed.

  I was having a difficult time with a song I had in my head, but couldn’t seem to get right when I tried to get it on paper. She had amazed me, I remembered fondly. She had an affinity with words, and was able to rearrange their order, and tweak it so that I was able to get onto paper exactly what I was looking for.

  After that, I remembered, I would search her out, in the late hours of the night.

  I missed her, I thought suddenly.

  I hadn’t talked to her in months. I had called home recently, many times, in the hopes Steph would answer but her mom Amanda answered last time, and I wanted to ask about Steph, but I didn’t. Maybe I just didn’t know what to say to her? The last time I saw her, we hadn’t left on the best of terms. And that was months ago, and I never took the time to discuss what had happened that night with Steph.

  She had gone to one of my shows, I remembered. I had gotten her tickets, and when I came out on stage, she was one of the first people I had seen in the audience. I hadn’t seen her in months, and I remember she had surprised me.

  Her hair had grown, and it was long and beautiful. She had dyed streaks of a burgundy red color down the long length of her hair, and had eye makeup on that complimented it. Her miniskirt and cropped top exposed so much skin, I was surprised.

  I guess I always saw her as this teenager, but that night, she looked like a woman. I quickly got over my surprise, breaking my gaze away from her so I could concentrate on the crowd and the set we had planned for that evening.

  But as I started singing that first song, I found my eyes drawn to her. As the night wore on, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her, looking at her way too often. The sight of her dancing in front of me, her hips swaying; I am sure I wasn’t the only one entranced.