Last Call (36 page)

"But why did it even matter, momma? Why do you care what any guy I bring home does, especially if I'm happy?"

"I can answer that for your mother and for myself, Savannah. Actually, I know you already know part of the answer…it's because of who you are."

I sighed at this, because I
did
know what he was going to say. It was because of our money, our legacy, what anyone who married me would be a part of. I'd been introduced to this at school when people had first learned who I was. The more money you had, the more people wanted to walk in your shadow.

My father repeated my thoughts almost word for word, and my mother nodded in agreement.

"But that's not all," she added, getting up and walking towards the window as she spoke. "Honey, I don't talk about my family for a reason. I grew up very, very poor, Savannah."

"You what?" I exclaimed, shocked at her revelation.

"I grew up in a trailer, and often times didn't have enough money for food. My father was a drunk who hit my mother sometimes, and my mother was the housekeeper at a local motel." She shuddered as she looked out the window and I snuck a glance at my father to see what he was thinking. He shook his head at me, and his eyes were sad.

"I met your father when I was barely eighteen. One day he happened to come into a diner that I was lucky enough to get a job at. He was lost on his way somewhere and had just stopped to ask for directions."

"But I stayed for the company." He smiled, and my mother turned and smiled back at him.

"Yes, he stayed for the company. I gave him a piece of pie and some coffee and we talked for hours. He asked for my number when he left, but we didn't even have a phone. So he came back the next day, and the day after that."

Tears pricked my eyes as I smiled at my parents. "That's how Gage and I met."

My mother's face was a mask of understanding, and my father sighed. "I fell in love with her instantly, Savannah, and within a month we were getting married."

"Oh my WORD -
why
did you never tell me this story? That's romantic and so sweet," I complained, getting up to hug my mother.

"I'm ashamed, honey. My family didn't have a very good name in our town. When your father took me away from that, I swore I would never look back. Sweetheart, I just wanted to protect you. That's why I pushed you so hard through the years. I think I've been on a quest to prove that I really did belong with these people."

"Oh momma, you belong here as much as any of the people you know. Probably more than most of them. At least you've always done volunteer and humanitarian work with your money, instead of frittering it away on nonsense like they do."

"I love you so much Savannah, and I just want you to be happy. If you love this man, then I know I’ll love him too."

"It may be too late to worry about that."

"Oh, nonsense. When you get back home to Nashville, you’ll go and talk with him and make him understand how stupid your mother was. He’ll forgive you."

"I do have to tell you about our discussion Friday, and you both might want to sit down. It’s quite a coincidence that you met Gage, actually." My father laughed, and my mother and I sat nervously.

"What’s so funny?"

"Gage isn't just a bartender, honey."

Thinking of how he also managed bars for new owners, I nodded and waited for a better explanation.

"He owns the bar you frequent in Nashville, and from what I understand he also owns two in Vegas and is in negotiations for another club in New York City."

"He
owns
them?"

"There's more. His family runs one of the largest entertainment companies around. Taylor Entertainment owns most of the larger clubs, casinos and bars in Australia. Gage is the sole heir to the company."

I felt light headed as I listened to my father explain it all to me. Apparently Gage had decided to tell my father who he was because Guthry Whiskey was the main distributor of whiskey to their bars. He knew there was a good chance my dad or Uncle would know who he was. That was when I recalled my Uncle's odd reaction to Gage's name at the cocktail reception, and realized that he’d almost blown Gage's cover then.

Apparently, about two years ago once Gage finished his Masters in business and marketing, he convinced his father to let him come to the U.S. to start looking at clubs to buy here. It was indeed an amazing coincidence that we met at The Garage.

"Well I'll be," muttered my mother. She looked positively shell shocked.

"When we fought last night, he seemed particularly upset about the fact that he thought I was just after a rich man. That money mattered so much to me," I recalled, and then another thought struck me. "Is
that
why he kept it a secret from me? Was he just testing me or something? Did he tell you?"

Dad shook his head. "I asked him why he was being secretive and he said he really didn't intend to be, but that you’d never asked about his job. I think perhaps if he was honest with himself he would have to admit that he
was
testing you in some way. He wanted to find someone who wanted him for himself - much like you do."

"His phone goes straight to voicemail," I told them as I fingered the silver cuff from the little white box. I knew I shouldn't be wearing it since he hadn’t technically given it to me, but I was compelled to wear it on my skin.

"Savannah honey, that man has deep feelings for you. He made his intentions very clear with me when he was here that he was serious about you. He was just waiting for you to get over some of the demons of your past - or at least that's what he said."

"I want to go home today."

"I don't think that's a good idea, honey. Drive home tomorrow."

"No, I don't want to wait. Dad, I
need
to go home and talk to him. He's never in the bar on Monday mornings, so I can go to his place and catch him."

My parents begged me to wait to drive home and see him the next evening instead, but I disagreed and eventually they understood. But before I could leave, there was one last thing I wanted to tell them.

Now that things were out in the open with my mother’s past and Gage's family, I decided that my own secret needed to be shared.

Shocking my father into tears, I explained how I had been taking classes to obtain a double major in Art History and Business.

"I want to be able to run GW someday. It's in my blood."

They were both taken aback and proud, and I felt horrible that I’d kept my schooling choices from them for so long. As I packed mine and Gage's bags, my mother made a quick late lunch before I got on the road. We spent the meal reconnecting and talking, and I had to admit that it was good to be a family again without all of the obligations of the past smothering me.

Around three o’clock I headed home, prepared to shamelessly beg Gage to forgive me. As I listened to the radio and snuck glances at the bracelet on my wrist, my heart was full of optimism that he would eventually come around and we could finally start building some dreams together.

Sunday - June 17, 2013

Unexpected Company

It took every ounce of my concentration to drive myself home. I called Gage twice and left voicemails telling him I wanted to talk with him, and told him again how sorry I was. When I pulled up to my house at ten o'clock that night I was utterly exhausted. Popping my trunk, I grabbed what luggage I could handle and half-dragged, half-carried the bags to the door. I left the heavier of the two at the bottom of the stairs, knowing I would need both hands to carry them up the steps.

God, I can't
wait
for a hot shower and a good night’s sleep,
I thought to myself as I tugged the keys out of my pocket and balanced my bags on my shoulders. Slipping my key into the deadbolt, I noticed that it kept spinning around, but the tumblers weren’t catching to unlock. The lock must have finally broken, and for a moment I was tempted to just sit on the step and cry. Calling a locksmith so I could get into my house after a long drive was the
last
thing I wanted to do at this time of night. Dropping my toiletry bag from my shoulder, I cursed and kicked the bottom of the door to cathartically release my pent up frustration.

I twisted the key once more and then tried the handle again, instantly feeling the door swing open. Standing in the doorway was a man, and the bright light behind him obscured his face so that all I could make out was his dress clothes and the flowers he held. For a quick flash I thought it was Gage, and relief flooded through me like the banks of a swollen river breaking through a dam. I almost broke down right there…until the man spoke.

"Welcome home, Savannah," he said; his voice low like the first time I’d heard it.

My reflexes sent me moving backwards once I realized it was Ryan from The Painter's Palette. In my home. I stumbled over the bag I'd dropped and grabbed the post before I fell down the steps.

"What the…?" I spluttered, and tried to detangle my feet from the straps of the bag.

"Don't be frightened. I made you dinner since I knew you would be tired after such a long trip. Come on in." He reached out and grasped my wrist tightly.

A whimper worked its way up my throat as I tried to register what was happening. I opened my mouth to scream and readied my muscles for a fight when he did something unexpected. Kicking his foot out, he swept my legs out from under me and I collapsed to the floor. His hand maintained an iron grip on my arm, and as I twisted and fell, pain ripped through my shoulder; causing me to shout out.

The next thing I knew he was bent over me with one hand wrapped around my chin and mouth and the other yanking me roughly by the arm into the house. I fought to open my mouth to produce a scream or bite his palm, but I couldn't even get it open. His hand tasted salty with sweat when I tried to move my mouth and use my teeth.

He pulled my body over the bouquet of flowers he evidently dropped when he attacked me, and kicked the door shut behind me.

Waves of terror rushed through my veins when he tried to twist me over onto my stomach. Not willing to go down without a fight, I went over every self-defense move I could think of. I scissor-kicked my legs, but had no leverage in the position I was in. Thinking of the few times I'd seen him, I never would have thought him to be as powerful as he was.

When I wouldn't roll over to my front, he twisted my arm to the center of my back and yanked on it until I thought it would snap. I mumbled for mercy and screeched under the palm that still covered my face. Giving into the pain, my body stopped fighting long enough for him to roll me over, and he brusquely shoved my face into the floor. He mounted me, sitting on my upper thighs, and his legs pinned mine together to prevent me from kicking out again.

He grunted while he struggled with me, but he hadn't spoken since he first welcomed me home. Ryan’s body leaned over mine and my arm was twisted up and between us. His hand was rough as it clamped over my mouth and he spoke menacingly into my ear.

"I'm moving my hand, but if you scream it will
not
be pleasant." His voice was low, gravelly, and he forced his words out as if it pained him to speak each word. Perhaps he was winded?

I shook my head, letting him know I understood what he said. When his hand finally peeled back from my face I took a large gulp of fresh air and gasped, "Please don't hurt me." Crying at the pain in my shoulder and the horror of what he might do to me, I moaned, "Please."

He wrenched my other arm behind my back as soon as he let go of my mouth. Pulling them together, I felt his weight lighten for a moment as he leaned to the right. Curiously, I looked to where he’d reached. Laying there were several rolls of duct tape, and I immediately went into action once I heard the scratching sound of tape being unrolled.

A ragged scream tore from my chest and I tried to forcefully buck him off of my back. He barely flinched when I tried to wriggle my way out from underneath his body, and my ears again took in the sound of more tape ripping before he yanked my head back roughly.

"Ow," I cried, hot tears springing to my eyes. "Stop. NO."

"I told you to keep quiet, Savannah," he snarled; placing a strip of tape on the side of my mouth. "I would close your mouth if I were you," he warned, and I screamed at him again. He slowly pressed the tape over my lips and I closed my mouth quickly. He secured another piece of tape over the first and then let go of my hair.

Defeated for the moment, I dropped my head to the carpet and squeezed my eyes shut. I lay there and tried to take steadying breaths though my nose. Breathe. In. Out.
You can do this
Savannah!
I thought to myself; trying to keep calm as I heard the tape unravel again and he began to tape my wrists together behind my back.

I took a frantic moment to think.
How do I get help? What do I do?
I suddenly recalled slipping my phone into the side cargo pocket of my shorts when I’d gotten out of the car, and thought that maybe I would be able to get a hold of it at some point.

"Let me help you up," Ryan said politely. His weight left my body and he pulled up on my arms. Slowly I tried to stand, but unfortunately without his help I couldn't maneuver. I allowed him to help me get to my knees before falling back to sit on my feet. He didn't stop me, but instead allowed me to scoot towards the wall and then into the corner.