Ryder
I had a reputation of being a person who took the easy road. It was a valid descriptor of me. Not that I was lazy or avoided hard work. I didn’t mind work if it was something I enjoyed. I liked music and running the restaurant. And then there was Trina, who wasn’t an easy woman to get along with, but I definitely liked the challenge of her. But overall, if I wasn’t into something, I tended to avoid it, like house maintenance.
As I got to work on fixing up the house, my interest in creating a nice home grew. I wanted a safe place for my child and a comfortable home for Trina, if she’d ever give me another chance. One thing that became clear as Wyatt helped me with the porch was that I needed to hire help to make sure the structure was sound. That required money. So did securing a more stable financial future, once Mr. Coffey confirmed that Stark had made inquiries about buying Salvation Station.
When I went through my financial statements, I discovered that I was fine for a bachelor, but if I wanted a family, I needed to do more. I considered my options, such as asking my parents for help in investing in the restaurant, but they were nearing retirement.
My only option was to swallow my pride and accept Stark’s offer to play for him. I even twisted my reason up into a pretzel arguing that I’d be taking his money to thwart his effort to buy the Salvation Station. I also figured since most townsfolk didn’t like him, no one I knew or cared about would be there anyway, so no one would know.
Before I agreed to the gig, I started putting my ducks in order. I upped the price to thirty grand, asking for half up front, which he agreed to. I wasn’t sure how Stark stayed rich, as he accepted my demand without any negotiating. Then I went to a lawyer and asked her to draw up a contract regarding the Salvation Station. As soon as I had my money, I was going to make that place mine.
A few days later I showed up at Stark’s compound to play for a bunch of high society people. I liked music, but this gig would be my hardest, I was sure of it. I couldn’t get over the guilt that I was betraying not just Salvation but my own good sense as well.
The house used to belong to Carson Marchand, who’d built one of the first breweries in the state. That had since been relocated, but the large home remained. In fact, it had been vacant until Stark blew into town trying to take it over.
The home sat on some prime Nebraska farmland next to the river, but apparently Stark didn’t see any need to till the soil. Instead, a large tent was erected, with fancy lights hanging around it and caterers in white suits buzzed around.
“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 m
atter 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.