“Mr. Simms, glad you could make it,” a woman with a clipboard said to me. “You’ll be playing on the stage erected at the back of the tent,” she said pointing toward the raised platform.
“I need to prepare,” I said, feeling sicker by the moment.
“There’s a room off the kitchen if you like. You’re scheduled to play in half an hour or so.”
She directed me to a small room that had probably been a mudroom. It had a bench where I sat and pulled out my guitar to tune it. As I plucked at each string and adjusted its tone, I had a flash of memory of Trina busting into my room while I was playing my guitar naked. She’d been pissed when she walked in, but when she saw me in the nude was the first time I’d ever seen her speechless. That had led to the first time we’d made love. I inhaled a breath as I thought about how much life we’d lived in our month-long fake marriage, and how down I was that unless I could get my shit together, I’d have failed in my quest. Now that a child was involved, I couldn’t fail. Which was why I was here, I reminded myself as that sick feeling turned over in my gut again.
“Mr. Simms? We’re ready for you. Do you think you could start with the National Anthem?”
Huh? “Ah…sure.”
“Great.” She led me to the platform. People in fancy suits and dresses mingled about.
“Ah, here he is,” Mr. Stark said from the platform. “I’m very pleased to have Ryder Simms to entertain you all in this fundraiser for Jay Wallace and his bid to run for mayor of Salvation.”
Oh, hell no! Fuck, fuck, fuck. I closed my eyes as I realized I wasn’t just betraying my own good sense, but also my sister. I skidded to a stop, ready to bolt. I couldn’t play for the man who was backing my sister’s opponent. And what a fucking moron I was not to realize Stark would pull something like this. What an asshole.
He looked at me and arched a brow with a knowing smirk on his face. The only salvation I had was that I’d finagled an extra five thousand from him. I guess that’s what my loyalty and pride were worth. Thirty thousand. Jesus, if Sinclair found out she’d skin me alive. And I’d deserve it. But my child deserved a safe home and a dad who could provide. So, swallowed my pride, and stepped on the platform.
I played the National Anthem, wondering if any of these people really understood patriotism. My guess was that they’d sell their loyalty in a minute, but then again, I just had done it myself.
Then I went through and played the set I’d prepared. My heart wasn’t in it, so I couldn’t say the gig went well, although people clapped and some sang along.
When I finished, I headed straight to Stark. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
Stark laughed. “An asshole that just paid you thirty thousand dollars for a thirty-minute set. That’s a thousand dollars a minute, Mr. Simms.”
“You didn’t give a shit about me. You just want to get back at my sister.”
He shrugged.
I leaned closer to him, plucking the check from his fingers. “That’s the reason you’ll never fit in this town no matter how much you buy, even if you buy the mayor.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because Salvation is a good town filled with good people. You’re not a good person.”
He flinched slightly, which along with the check, was my reward. Not that it would soothe the guilt and self-loathing that I’d sold my soul, but it was something.
I left the gig and immediately drove to Mr. Coffey’s house.
“Ryder, what are you doing here?” He said as he opened the door. He checked his watch. It was just before nine at night, which was probably too late to show up at someone’s house, but I wasn’t going to put this off any longer. Not with someone slimy like Stark involved.
“I’ve got twenty thousand dollars and a contract, right now, to invest in the Salvation Station.”
“What?” He let me into his home.
“Who is it, dear,” his wife asked from their living room.
“It’s Ryder. I’m going to take him to the den,” Mr. Coffey said.
“Is everything all right with the restaurant?”
“It’s fine,” he said motioning me to the extra bedroom that they used as a den.
“Can I make you coffee or something?” she asked us. I had a moment to wonder if Trina would ever be wifely like that. Probably not. The kitchen was definitely my domain, and I was fucking fine with that. I’d be happy to make coffee for her guests.
“We’re fine, dear.” He shut the door. “Now what are you up to?”