Lady A does some of the best songs about broken hearts and good love gone bad. This is one that I wasn't too familiar with, but it's perfect for the story I'm working on now. Honestly, I think it would be perfect for a lot of my books. Including A Taste of Honey (which was supposed to be re-released this month, but got pushed back due to another deadline)
It had still been fresh and green when Lucy left town. And he had been so stupidly certain she wouldn’t stay away for long. It was almost September now, and she was still gone. Was she never coming back, he wondered in an agony of despair. And what in the world would he do if she didn’t?
He’d been so angry with her at first. Plate throwing, chair smashing, fist through the wall furious. Two years they’d been together. Had that counted for so little with her, that she could throw it all away like that? And for what? Flirting? Damn the woman! She’d known full well how he felt about her. Christ, he told her often enough! She knew he had no real interest in anyone else. It was just...he liked the ladies. He enjoyed their company and their conversation. And yeah, okay, he didn’t mind looking at them, either. But was that really so awful? Hell, she knew that about him from the get-go. Just like she knew that he’d always been faithful to her--she even admitted as much.
And still she’d left him.
He thought about that as he reached the end of the canyon road and swerved onto the coast highway, taking the turn way too fast for his truck, not even bothering to check for oncoming traffic. Okay, so he’d made a few mistakes. And obviously he should have taken her complaints more seriously. But they’d always seemed like such small, petty, trivial things--surely nothing worth troubling himself over. Not when he could always talk her around again, anyway. But then...he’d never thought she’d do anything like this!
She sure knew how to make a point, though. He had to give her that. She’d shown him, in no uncertain terms, exactly how much it meant to her. And how little it mattered to him—all this time spent time in other women’s company—if it meant having to forego hers.
The biggest joke of all was how little pleasure he now found in any other woman’s company: the only discernible effect of the great plan he’d hatched for getting over her.
A plan born of desperation, sleepless nights and several drinks too many.
Sleep with enough other women, he’d reasoned--with what had seemed like consummate clarity at the time he thought it--and the resultant blur, of names and faces and assorted female body parts, would make it that much easier to forget the one woman he wanted.
Maybe he hadn’t kept at it long enough, or maybe there weren’t enough women in the world to make it work. Whatever the reason, a month and a half had been about as long as he’d been able to stand trying.
The persistent whine of a siren behind him finally got his attention. He thought fleetingly of the bag of weed he’d stashed in the truck’s glove compartment, only that afternoon. Well now, this is perfect isn’t it? A little jail time is pretty much all my life’s missing lately, to reduce it to total shit!
He pulled over to the edge of the road and watched in his side view mirror as the cop approached. A tiny flame of relief flickered briefly to life as he recognized Lucy’s cousin Nick, and then went out again. Sure, he might have expected to be cut some slack back when he and Lucy were together, but now? Not much chance of that. And especially not if Nick had been speaking to his mother any time in the last couple weeks.
“Hey, there Dan,” Nick greeted him. “How’re you doing?”
“Lousy,” Dan replied. “You?”
“Oh, ’bout the same, I guess.” Nick’s lips twisted in a brief, bitter smile. “You uh, were going kind of fast.”
“Yup.” Dan leaned his head against the headrest and stared out through the windshield.
“You in a hurry to get somewhere in particular tonight?”
Oh, like that would make a difference, Dan thought, but couldn’t be bothered saying. He shook his head. “Just on my way home, Nick. Same as every other night.” He was aware of the other man eyeing him with what seemed like a little more curiosity than the situation warranted. Probably wondering if he was stoned. Probably deciding whether to trump up some charge to arrest him on, or to just invite him out of the truck so he could kick his butt right here.
“Uh-huh. I haven’t seen you around much these last few weeks?”
“Nope,” Dan answered, wondering a little wearily if this was going to go on much longer. The last time he’d seen Nick had been in one of the local bars, a few nights after he’d come up with his genius brainstorm. After three or four drinks he’d found himself waxing enthusiastic over his hopes for it…
“I don’t know, bud.” Nick had seemed sympathetic, but not overly encouraging. “Somehow, I don’t think it works that way.”
“What’re you talking about?” Dan remembered demanding. “Why the hell shouldn’t it work? Something’s got to.” He’d gulped down his whiskey and pushed his glass back across the bar for another refill; glaring angrily at the doubtful expression on the bartender’s face. The bartender had glanced at Nick, and waited for his nod, before he reluctantly poured out another double.
“Thanks,” Dan muttered, making an effort to drink this one more slowly.
“De nada.” Nick took a long pull from his beer. “I’ve been there, too, man.”
The two of them had nursed their drinks for a few moments in silence, until finally, “It has to work,” Dan insisted.
If you want to read more about Lucy and Dan, there's a FREE prequel to their story available here: https://tinyurl.com/OberonPrequel
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