Follow You Down Read online

  Follow You Down

  Copyright © 2014 K.B. Webb

  Cover Design ©, Arijana Karčić Cover It! Designs

  Executive Editor, Virginia Cantrell, Hot Tree Editing

  Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  prelude

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  epilogue

  acknowledgements

  about k.b. webb

  To Keitha Danielle

  For being my heart, my soul, my best friend

  “We made a deal ages ago. Men, babies, it doesn’t matter. We’re soul mates.”

  —Sex and the City 2

  Growing up, my mother always used to say, “Dani, life’s hard; then you die.” My mother has never been an extremely poetic woman, but she’s always been right. Right now, hundreds of miles away from my family and the only life I’ve ever known, life is fucking hard.

  I hate myself for the mess I’ve made of my life and the ones around me. I’ve become the person I swore I never would be, a selfish, self-centered child. I’ve done things without thinking of the repercussions of my actions. Even worse, sometimes I thought of the repercussions, and still did terrible things; still did things that I knew would hurt others, but I didn’t care. I did what I wanted. All I cared about was what would make me happy; fuck everyone else.

  I have always believed in karma. I just never thought it would come back on me as hard and as hurtful as it has, but I guess it’s what I deserve. My karma came in the form of losing a man I thought loved me, a man who is very powerful and very much married. Apparently, the love we had could be easily thrown away when there was a multimillion-dollar business and a messy, public divorce at stake.

  As I sit in this overpriced apartment, looking at boxes stacked against the wall, I hate how this place makes me feel. This gorgeous, empty apartment, with a balcony that has a breathtaking river view, makes me feel dirty and cheap. This stunning apartment, with its granite counter tops, stained hardwood floors, and custom cabinets were bought with hush money. Money I received after I signed a lengthy non-disclosure agreement that stated I would never speak of the torrid affair I’d had with one of Dallas, Texas’ most powerful men. When I signed that agreement, I signed my one-way ticket to hell. Not just the fiery pit I will likely have a window view seat to, but the one I’m currently living in.

  Living in Monroe, Louisiana was not part of my plan, neither was bartending at a hole in the wall bar. All of this was a step down for me. Three months ago, I was dancing on the main stage at Temptations, the most exclusive strip club in Dallas, for businessmen, ball players, and musicians. Now, I would be working for tips serving drinks to rednecks and college kids.

  I don’t really need the money, but I can’t sit around this apartment all day. I need something to do. It was my mother’s idea for me to bartend. She is convinced that being around people will bring my spirits up. She’s wrong, but I won’t tell her that. She is trying so damn hard to help me through this shitty time in my life. She has never judged me for my actions. She is my rock, my best friend.

  Gail Hartley is the quintessential southern mother. Stay at home mom and wife, PTA member, and head of her social circle. She always has her blonde hair styled perfectly and wears pearls with every outfit. On the outside, she looks like the ideal Stepford Wife, but she couldn’t be more opposite if she tried. My picture perfect looking mother is a part time firearms instructor and teaches a self-defense class to victims of domestic violence. She can skin a deer and pluck a duck faster than any man I’ve met, and can cook them better than any chef. My mother is an amazing woman on every level. She also has a heart of gold. When I told her I had decided to put college on hold and work instead as a stripper, she never got mad. She just told me that she would love me no matter what and my life was my journey to map out; I had to make my own decisions. When my secret love affair blew up in my face, she never once said I told you so or tried to condemn me for my actions. Instead, she helped me pack up my house and did her best to help me mend my broken heart. After looking online for weeks, she found me an apartment in this small college town and helped me enroll in a few college courses. When she saw the sign at Ricky’s, stating they were looking for a new bartender, she basically demanded the owner, Geo, to give me the job. Even though I had basically no bartending experience, he agreed. That is the kind of person my mother is. She can pretty much convince anyone to go along with what she wants them to do, and do it with a smile on their face.

  My dad is the polar opposite of my mother. Mark Hartley is a hard-ass. A police officer for over twenty-five years, he has seen enough shit in his life to assume that everything I do is going to send me either to the morgue or the county jail. When he found out his only child had decided not to enroll in college and take her clothes off for money instead, he didn’t take it well. “I will be damned if my daughter is going to take off her fucking clothes for some seedy, rich yuppies just so they will throw money at her. Hell no, Dani Gail Hartley. You’ll have to take my gun and badge because I will shoot any motherfucker who looks at you, and then arrest his ass. Hell. No.” Obviously, Dad didn’t win. He never does. My mother calmed him down, even though he didn’t speak to me for over a month. When he finally did, he agreed that I was an adult and could make my own decisions. He still didn’t like what I did, but I was his daughter, so he would be supportive.

  Now, I am sitting alone wishing I was back in Texas with my quirky mother and hard-ass father instead of crying into my whisky on the rocks. But this is what I deserve. I tried to steal another woman’s husband. We had an ongoing affair for over a year, even though I knew he was her man, not mine. I acted like a possessive toddler, trying to take something that wasn’t mine, and now, I’m paying the price.

  Sometimes, life is fucking hard, so hard you wish you’d just die.

  “Does this shirt make me look fat?” It’s a Wednesday night and I’m getting dressed for my first shift at Ricky’s while talking with my mother on Skype. The shirt I am required to wear is a little tighter than I expected it to be. Even after taking scissors to the neckline, my boobs still feel like they’re suffocating.

  “Of course not, Dani Gail! You look adorable, and those shorts look great on you,” my mother chirps in. She is doing what she always does Wednesday evenings, polishing her silver while drinking whisky and Diet Coke. I miss her. Usually, I would be drinking and polishing silver right along with her while we waited for my dad to come home. But that isn’t my usual anymore. Now, my usual consists of eating out of to-go boxes and drinking alone. My usual is fucking depressing.

  “These shorts make my ass look even bigger than it already is, and Lord knows it doesn’t need help looking bigger.” I am blessed, as my mother would say, with an ass and hips that are on the curvier side. I inherited them from her side of the family.

  “Hey now,” I see her look up from the silver salad fork she is polishing and stare at the camera while she points the fork at me. “Don’t complain about your ass. God blessed you with that ass. Hell, Kim Kardashian pays good money for injections and implants just so her ass will look half as good as yours. Speaking of her, did you hear that she’s marr
ying that rapper; you know the one who made Taylor Swift cry?”

  I roll my eyes while pulling on my cowboy boots. My mother watches way too much entertainment TV. “Mom, everyone makes Taylor Swift cry.”

  She laughs and I can tell by the way her voice raises at the end, she is already a little drunk. “I guess you’re right. Can you imagine how terrible it would be if she dated that Beaver kid? Ugh, there would be terrible breakup songs everywhere. Lord help us.”

  Beaver kid? I’m full out laughing at her while tears spring up in my eyes. “Are you drunk right now, Gail?”

  She shoots her eyebrows up and shakes her empty glass. “I might be. Your father is getting lucky tonight!”

  I am not laughing anymore. “Sweet Christ, Mom, really? TMI! I don’t need to know that!”

  “Dani Gail, I have seen you dance naked to “Pour Some Sugar on Me”; we are past the point of TMI!”

  As disturbing as what she’s saying is, she’s right.

  “Mom, do you think our family’s a little dysfunctional?”

  “Of fucking course it is! Our dysfunctions are what bond us together. Every family has some dysfunctions; some just choose to work hard to hide them. But in this family, we parade them around for everyone to see. You know, like that old song, ’Dysfunction junction what’s your function?’ she sings the line horribly off key while using the wrong words.

  “Mom, the song says ‘conjunction junction’ and that is a kid’s song used to teach grammar, not justify our fucked up family. You really need to lay off the sauce because I have to go to work and you have at least three more hours until Dad z+ home. At this rate, you’re going to pass out before happy hour even officially starts.”

  “Dani, every hour of my life is happy hour, you know that!” She laughs at her own joke for a few moments before regaining her composure. “Have fun at your first night of work! Make friends and don’t drink and drive. If you need a ride home, just call me.”

  I sigh. She always says that to me before I leave to go anywhere. I wish it were as easy as just calling for a ride now, but it’s not.

  “Oh yeah, Mom, you’re hours away, of course I will call you when I get off work after midnight to come get me. That makes total sense.” My voice is laced with sarcasm, and I instantly regret it when I see her drunken smile turn into a very sober glare.

  “Now you listen here, Dani Gail, you could be in fucking Canada and need a ride home at midnight and I would come get you. I’m your mother; I’ll always come get you.” Her stern look turns into a sad smile.

  Moments like this, I really wish I had just stayed in Dallas, but I need a fresh start where no one knows who I am or the past I have. Unfortunately, getting a fresh start means leaving behind parts of my life that I desperately want to keep, like polishing silver with my mother.

  “I know, Mom. I’m just nervous about work tonight, and I miss you.”

  She sighs slightly and wipes away the tears I see coming from her eyes. “I miss you too, Dani. But I know you will do great tonight. Just don’t stress, be yourself, and call me when you wake up tomorrow. I love you, baby girl.”

  I smile at her and dry my eyes, trying not to ruin my mascara. “I love you too, Mamma. Tell Daddy I love him, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I wave at her as I shut off my laptop and close it. I take one last long look at myself in the mirror to inspect my outfit once again.

  My clothes still look too tight, but paired with my favorite red cowboy boots, I think the look works for me. I’m not wearing a lot of makeup, so my freckles are showing, and my bright, red hair is in a high ponytail. I grab my purse and head toward my front door, smiling as I pass the picture of my mother and me hanging in the hallway.

  I lock the door behind me, pulling it shut as I walk out.

  Well, here goes nothing.

  Wanna know something about bartending? It’s fucking hard, especially when I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I have to keep looking up recipes on my phone. I am seriously stressing out. Every time I ask someone what their order is, I am secretly praying they just ask for beer or whisky; the only two things I know about.

  Two of the waitresses take the time to try to help show me the ropes and where everything is, even helping make drinks when I start falling behind.

  The waitresses, Molly and Wynee, are obviously best friends, even though they appear to be polar opposites.

  Molly is gorgeous in the classic 50s pin up sort of way, curvy, pale skin, dark hair. She has the attention of every male in the bar but doesn’t know it, especially the cute guy sitting at one of her tables. I think Wynee said his name was Logan, and the guy sitting with him is her boyfriend, Justin. Wynee is what you could call unconventionally beautiful. Her hair is short and blond and she is covered in tattoos, but she totally pulls it off. She has an edgy attitude that perfectly matches her demeanor.

  “So, Geo just threw you to the wolves, huh?” I glance up from my third attempt at an amaretto sour and see Molly popping the top on a few beers and placing them on her tray.

  I laugh nervously, “I think he was under the impression that I’ve done this before. Obviously, he was fucking wrong.” I realize I have fucked up the drink I’m trying to make, and pour it down the sink. God only knows how much liquor I am wasting tonight.

  Molly must be able to see my agitation growing because she grabs a glass and makes the drink for me while giving instructions. Seriously, she should be the one bartending, not me.

  “Thank you. I seriously suck at this. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize; it’s really not your fault. Geo doesn’t believe in training. He wants to see if you can hang, so he throws you in head first. At least he didn’t make your first shift on a busy night. That would have been rough.”

  I glance around the bar where every stool has an ass on it and almost every table is full. I look back at her, raising my eyebrows. “So you’re telling me this isn’t busy?” I’m sure I look terrified because she laughs while shaking her head.

  “Seriously, don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it; I swear.”

  I don’t believe her at all, but I play along, not wanting to make this girl I barely know deal with my stress.

  I’m taking another customer’s order when I catch her staring at my boots. I just know she’s going to ask why the fuck I have red cowboy boots, everyone does. Honestly, I saw Ted wear a pair on How I Met Your Mother and decided I had to have some. Most people think they look ridiculous, but I love them.

  Molly smiles and nods. “Nice boots. You pull them off way better than Ted does.”

  I laugh, and for the first time since I started working tonight, I relax a little. “You just made a How I Met Your Mother joke! Seriously, can we be best friends?” Now, Molly is laughing too.

  I see Wynee standing behind Molly giving me the evil eye. “Back off, bitch, Molls here is my best friend.”

  My smile drops quickly. “Oh, sorry, I was just making a joke.”

  “Wynee!” Molly shoves her and laughs uncomfortably. “You’ll have to excuse her. She can be a raging bitch sometimes, but she was just kidding. Right, Wynee?”

  “I really was, Dani. Swear. You can have her. In all honestly, after twenty years, she’s starting to get on my nerves.” Wynee laughs and grabs two beers before rounding the bar.

  “Wow, y’all have been friends for twenty years?” I look at Molly with a surprised look on my face. Twenty years is a long time, especially since her and Wynee can’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three.

  “Yeah, since we were two. She’s a crazy bitch, but she’s my best friend.”

  Just then I hear an older guy whistle and say Molly’s name. She smiles apologetically and grabs her tray, heading toward the guy’s table.

  Over the next hour or so, I try my best to make the drinks customers ask for, but repeatedly I fail miserably. I watch Molly and Wynee move around the bar with ease, both stopping often to talk to Logan and Justin. From the way Logan is staring at
Molly, I’m assuming he’s her boyfriend. He’s cute, and when he smiles at Molly, his dimples show.

  Tiffany, the other waitress, hasn’t been as friendly as Molly and Wynee. She has returned almost every drink I’ve made tonight, even the ones I know were right, and has bitched about everything. She’s a pretty girl, but God, she is fucking annoying.

  “Can we get some service over here?” Two college age girls are sitting at the end of the bar, one of them waving me down. One is a bottle blonde wearing a pink tube top that barely covers her chest. The other is a dark-haired girl who obviously wears contacts, because no one’s eyes are purple. Neither looks very happy with me right now, and when I see them smile at Tiffany as she walks by, I know why. These are her friends, and they are about to fuck with me.

  “Hey, ladies, what can I get y’all?” I lay down a napkin in front of each of them and smile, praying they just want light beer.

  “Um, yeah, can I get a mojito and she will take a mango margarita on the rocks.”

  My smile wavers slightly, but I hold it together. “Sure, ladies, coming right up.” They both raise their eyebrows at me and laugh before facing each other.

  I walk a few feet away and start trying to figure out what the fuck goes in a mojito and a mango margarita. Fuck.

  “You have no clue what you’re doing, do you?” My thoughts are interrupted by a deep voice coming from the seat in front of me.

  I glance up, finally ready to let my aggression out and tell this guy to fuck off, when I’m met with a dazzling smile and dark blue eyes. This guy is gorgeous. Damn. He has on a worn out LSU ball cap and a tight green t-shirt. His skin has a tan to it that says he spends lots of time outside. His arms are crossed and flexed, and he’s leaning over the counter so his muscles are pushing against the fabric of his shirt. As much as I want to tell him to fuck off, I can’t. He doesn’t seem to have cruel intentions with his comment; he actually seems sincere, and slightly amused.