Monday Nights at the Bluebird

Chapter Two

Two Months Later

There was a shameful secret that Deacon had never admitted to anyone. Sometime, about around when he was 12 years old - his Dad had been gone almost two years by then - he had decided to quit music. Until that fateful day, he'd been proud of his likeness to his father, the amazing guitar player that everyone knew and everyone respected. He'd treasured the moments of kinship he'd felt when his father would pull him aside and show him a new cord progression. When Jack had passed down his old Gibson to Deacon, he'd been thrilled and honored, taking it as a sign that he was heir to his father's talent. None of the others had been so close to their Dad. Everyone had called him a chip of the old block, and Jack's apple, and he'd practically burst his buttons.

That was before the day of the church picnic. He'd been helping his Momma by carrying over the huge cooler of sweet tea that his Momma had made for the event and he'd over heard Mrs. Caldwell and Mrs. Blake talking about his Dad leaving.

Poor Bonnie, Mrs. Caldwell had exclaimed. Six kids and no husband, what is she gonna do? She'd sighed and shaken her head. Mrs. Blake had been less sympathetic.

Well, what did she expect? Mrs. Blake challenged. Marrying a musician? We all knew Jack Clayborne was no good and now he goes and proves it. That's what comes from listening to a pretty song, and looking a pretty face and losing your mind.

He'd been so ashamed he'd dropped the cooler where it was, and had run off to the river. Six hours later Momma had found him there, staring at the water, trying not to cry and wishing, just wishing, he could bring himself to smash that old guitar. Momma had just sat with him, her arm around his shoulders. Her words made him realize that Mrs. Caldwell and Mrs. Blake had filled her in. Your Dad tried, Sweetheart, but he just couldn't handle a life without music anymore.

Well, hell and damnation, he'd cursed Deacon with the same need, much as Deacon had tried to squash that need with alcohol and women. The music would not be denied no matter how hard he tried and he knew for a certainty, even at the ripe old age of 24, that he was destined for the same life as Jack. Always on the road, always looking to play, even over the love of a wife or his family. He would never dodge his Dad's legacy. So he took what he benefits he could from it. He took his lovers, he took his money and each time when he played - sharing his bits of soul with strangers and finding that one pure moment where they were all with him, he took his solace.

Meeting Rayna was like a thunderbolt. He'd never imagined that there was someone out there for him, someone who could meet him onstage and send it all back with interest. He realized now, how stupid he'd been, thinking he could resist her. She was beautiful, she could write and sing like an angel, and her smile lit up his soul - a little bit, every time they played. He'd managed to keep it under his hat, though. She might call herself Jaymes, but she was Rayna Wyatt and she wasn't for the prodigal son of the hard-working and respectable - but dirt poor Claybornes. She might stare into his eyes and sing the most bittersweet and aching love songs he'd ever heard, but she would leave with that Bennett guy every time. Bennett with the perfect car, and the perfect clothes and no duct tape on his shoes.

Deacon was quite proud that she hadn't sussed him out yet. He'd managed to hide his feelings by smiling when he shook Bennett's hand, and by bringing a date when they'd all go out for a drink. If she rolled her eyes at him because each date was a different girl, well then it was working. They were about to do a few gigs out of town and she didn't suspect a thing.

But Amy did. Which was why he was currently sitting her office at the Bluebird, with a shot of prepartory bourbon in his hand.

"Uh-oh," He grinned. "I'm about to get a talk, ain't I?" He downed the bourbon without blinking. Another skill he got from Jack.

"What are your intentions toward that girl, Deacon?" Amy didn't smile as she topped up both their glasses.

"What girl?" Ray was all woman and no one knew it better than he did. He wasn't, however, gonna tell Amy that. She wasn't having it.

"The one who just happens to have a father that could close this place down faster than I can top up our glasses?" She glared. He bit his lip.

"She's just my writing partner, that's all. Our music meshes well together." He spoke as forthrightly as he could. Amy sighed.

"I'm sure that's not all that's meshing."

"Seriously. I haven't touched her." Deacon met her gaze honestly. He hadn't. He'd wanted to, so badly sometimes his hands ached from it, but he hadn't. He knew on the day that he did - that would be it for their partnership and that was just not an option. Amy sighed and shook her head.

"Well, honey, if that's true, I've got some news for you. It won't last long." He tried to protest but she cut him off. "I've seen the two of you onstage. I know you want her. Hell, everybody who sees you onstage together sees it." He didn't protest. He couldn't. He wasn't a natural liar. He noticed his shot glass was empty, and he refilled it.

"It would be alright if it was unrequited – a little sad, but alright – but you gotta know that she wants you, too." He looked up at that, his heart pounding. Amy saw the look in his eyes and sighed sadly. "There's gonna come a day when she's gonna reach out to you and you're not gonna push her away. I'm asking you to remember this conversation, and try."

There was silence as Deacon took in what Amy was saying. She wanted him to stay away from Rayna. She was protecting Rayna – from him. He'd always thought she liked him. His heart dropped as she continued talking.

"You have a gift from the Angels with your guitar, and it seems like Rayna has the same angels helping her sing and it's a beautiful thing, you two, up there together. But you have a darkness in you, son – and I know it's not your fault – but you still carry it. Girls like Rayna – they're not like us. They don't know how to deal with darkness. "

She'd talked a little more about responsibility and choices, and he'd sat there the whole time, numb. Of course he'd known this all along, he was no good, just like his Dad - he just hadn't expected Amy to put it all out there. He nodded, a little blindly, not really registering anything else. Amy was saying a few more things, concerned things, about how she loved Deacon like a son and she didn't want to see him hurt any more than Rayna, but he didn't really hear it.

All he knew was that he was overdue for a real drink and some more congenial company and he wasn't gonna get it here.

Rayna was worried. It was Saturday, and she still hadn't heard from Deacon. They had their regular gig tomorrow and they hadn't gotten any new work done. He'd missed two writing sessions and no one at the Bluebird had seen him for a couple of days. It shocked her that none of them seemed too concerned. Amy had just shrugged and said, "Don't' worry, sweetheart, he'll turn up. He always does." Leah-belle just smiled and said it was typical.

Mikey was the only one who gave her a clue. "Yeah, I was thinking he was overdue for a bender."

A bender! She thought to herself furiously. Here she was sitting a home, working hard on their music every day and Deacon was off, getting drunk and carrying on with god knows whom.

She cursed herself for being an idiot. For some reason, she'd thought the music meant as much to him as it did to her. Every time they played together, she'd felt as though she'd start to know more and more of Deacon's heart, the real one, the one he shielded with flirtatious smiles and smartass quips. She had thought it had gone both ways, that he was seeing her too, really seeing her – not as Rayna Wyatt, country club princess and daughter of Lamar, but as Rayna Jaymes – the girl who had quietly cried herself to sleep for two years after her mother had gone. The lonely girl who hated the privileged world she'd grown up in, hated the false smiles and loaded kindnesses – the girl who'd been desperate for real connection and had found it through her mother's beloved "hillbilly music."

Rayna didn't want the life that her father had mapped out for her. She didn't want the right marriage to the right man with the right prospects and a hobby career that didn't get in the way of her charity work. She didn't want to get married at all. Not after what she'd seen her mother go through. Years and years of bending her life to his, subject to his whims and his tempers, only to grow more and more distant as the years went on. She had watched quietly as her parents turned into polite strangers, and her mother had quietly withered, like an overripe tomato on the vine until finally it had gotten unbearable.

And Lamar had deeply loved her mother.

Tandy said that there was love out there that wasn't destructive. She claimed to love this new boyfriend, and she'd told Rayna, just to wait and see – that there was love out there that could life you up and strengthen you, that it didn't have to smother you.

That's what you thought you'd found with Deacon, a little voice muttered inside her head.

So there's how stupid she was. She'd gone and done it, the one thing she'd been warned against and the one thing she'd told herself she never could do. She'd fallen in love with that stupid, irritating jackass, with his charming smiles and his soulful eyes and his incredibly delicate and beautiful music.

She had too much of a sense of self-preservation to ever admit it to him, though. There had been a couple of times, during their writing sessions when it had been a close thing. She knew Deacon thought she was pretty, which wasn't much because he seemed to find most women attractive, but one time they had been leaning over the sheet music together, and her hair had been loose and had brushed against his shoulder. He had stroked it gently, almost absentmindedly and she had frozen, breathless from the contact. He'd noticed immediately and let go.

"Sorry" he'd said lightly, a wry and slightly bitter grin on his face. "but you can't wave that in front of a fella and not expect him to wanna touch it." They'd joked about selling her hair if they didn't make it, and the tension was dispelled. The other time, was more overt – she'd done laundry in a hurry that morning and Deacon had found one of her bras on the floor. It was a dusky rose color, with pretty lace inserts, and Rayna had turned the same shade of the bra as he handed it to her.

"You might wanna...get that out of the line of fire - " he'd said, his voice deep and rough, the lacy item framed in his large guitar-calloused hand.

"Thanks" she'd said, suddenly shy as she looked up into a pair of darkened hazel eyes that looked almost black. He cleared his throat, and then grinned.

"My pleasure – "he joked, and again the tension was dispelled. That's why she kept poor Bennett, nearby – in case she was ever tempted. Of course, it wasn't fair to string him along like that, but since she suspected Bennett was only with her to get into Daddy's company, she figured fair was fair. She needed a buffer and he needed contacts.

Though right now, all she needed was Deacon. No one seemed to wanna do anything about his disappearance, and it was frustrating as hell. She cornered Mikey and demanded some clues - he finally gave her a list of all the places he'd gone before with Deacon. She wrote them all down and headed out. She found him at the third place – Bobby's Idle Hour.

She should've expected it. Deacon was parked at a table at the back - a buxom blonde sitting in his lap. It felt a little like a slap, but she should be used to it by now.

He saw her as she came in – his eyes meeting hers and he grinned, a tight mean grin that got her back up. She strode boldly over to the table, Lamar in every step.

"Well, well " he smirked. "Slumming?" The blonde looked over her shoulder and made a face at Rayna's fancy shoes and clothes.

"Looks like – " She giggled into Deacon's shoulder. Rayna decided to be charitable and ignore the bimbo and focus on her truant writing partner.

"Deacon Clayborne" she bit out, flinching as she realized she sounded exactly like her father, "has it escaped your memory that we have a gig tomorrow?" She didn't appreciate that he made a face at that and she didn't appreciate that he shared the face with the bimbo, who had the nerve to roll her eyes at Rayna.

"He's busy" she declared boldly, sliding her arms possessively around his neck. Rayna calmly started listing all the reasons why grabbing her by that bleached blonde mane and pulling her backwards off his lap was a bad idea. Instead she looked at the idiot, who was grinning sheepishly at her.

"Is that true Deacon, are you busy?" Rayna was furiously angry, that was all. That was it. That was what was causing the tears in her eyes and the tightness in her voice. "Because we have a commitment but if that doesn't mean anything to you. Fine! I'll go on with another guitar player and you and I can wish each other well!"

She didn't storm off because she was upset – it was just because that girl was looking at her so pityingly and she knew that her tears were making black tracks down her face from her mascara. She didn't hear him the first time he called. Or the second – her heart was beating so heavily in her ears that all she wanted to do was run home. She had just broken up with her writing partner - that was all - that was what was tearing her to pieces.

"Ray!" He caught up with her in the parking lot. She realized she'd been storming off blindly, not really looking because when he appeared in front of her, his hands suddenly warm and firm on her shoulders, she'd wanted to collapse into him in relief. "Geez Ray, stop when a body calls after you, will you?" His eyes were wide and concerned, little flecks of gold and green sparkling in the street lights. He reached up gently, dabbing at her tears. "Don't cry, Baby. Please don't."

"I'm not crying," she muttered sullenly. "I'm just mad."

"I know, honey – I'm sorry – " For the first time since she met him, Deacon sounded tentative, almost ashamed.

"Look Deacon, I don't care what you do in your personal life." She lied boldly, " – but I do care if it affects our music." She cast a disdainful glance at the bar behind her. "If you place more importance on hanging out in dive bars, with blonde bimbos – " She was trying to sound dismissive, instead of jealous and angry, "-well, maybe we should rethink our partnership."

She'd angered him, she could tell. He let go of her like she'd slapped him and stepped back. His eyes were no longer soft and his jaw was tight.

"Well, Ms. Wyatt, I am sorry you don't like my new girlfriend-" His lip curled and there was a quiet rage in his voice.

"Girlfriend!" she couldn't help the skeptical exclamation – it just slipped out.

He was even angrier with that. "Yes, my girlfriend – I'm sorry she's not quite as fancy as you, but I figured since I'm jus' po' country folk I might as well get together with some of ma' own." His own eyes were contemptuous now as he took in her designer shoes and fancy clothes, "don't wanna get looking above my station, now do I?"

"Deacon – that's not what I - " she was horrified as she realized how he was taking her reaction. She wasn't judging the place because it wasn't fancy, she was judging the fact that he wanted to bury him self in there but he wasn't letting her speak.

" – And I apologize that this establishment is not to your liking, but not all of us can afford to socialize at the Belle Meade Country Club." He was all pride now - she could see that. That and the drinks he'd had weren't gonna make him listen.

"Deacon, I wasn't judging this place I just wanted – " He cut her off again.

"- But most of all, I'm sorry you misinterpreted this week as a judgment on our music" he was looking at his shoes now, still angry but also ashamed. "I do love our music Ray, and I do take it seriously. I just needed to - " He bit off the sentence and shook his head. "I will be there tomorrow."

Much as she wanted to rant at him some more, she heard the sincerity in his voice. He would be there.

"'Kay –" She nodded. The silence was awkward between them.

"Can I drop you somewhere?" She asked hopefully. His smile was regretful.

"No – " and she felt a little twist in her stomach as she realized he was going back into the bar. "-But I will be there, Ray – you can take that to the bank" She nodded awkwardly and made a mental note to herself to make sure Bennett was there tomorrow. She started toward her car, and she realized, lyrics were starting to come to her head. She stopped called back to him.

"Hey Deacon?"

"Yep?" He stopped too, turning around to face her.

"Is it possible you could come early? I think I might have a new song or at least the beginnings."

"Yeah? Sure Ray." He nodded and turned back towards the bar. The hollow pit in her stomach started to grow as she realized he wasn't gonna look back.

"Seriously? What are you trying to do with this one, Ray?" He read the lyrics, a little puzzled and quite honestly, still a little pissed off. Yeah, he'd screwed up royally with the bender, but he wasn't too keen on her thinking she could track him down just whenever she felt like it – like they were a couple or something. And thanks to Ms. Fancy Wyatt, he'd had to invite that girl - Mindy, Monica…something with an M – to the gig tonight, just so he could prove that he did have a girlfriend. Even if she was only the girlfriend for the evening. She must've heard his skepticism, because she gave him a cross look.

"I'm trying to do a love-hate song, okay?" Rayne was getting frustrated. It had seemed so clear the night before. She'd heard the verse in her head over and over again as she'd driven home. It had made sense last night. Why not do a song about the person you loved, even though that person drove you absolutely crazy? Hell, it was practically a country tradition that George Jones had perfected. She couldn't believe he couldn't get on board with this.

"Sounds like you've got yourself in a fix." Deacon said unsympathetically. He cast a critical eye over the verse. "I can see why you can't think of anything else. You've pretty much written yourself into a corner here. "

"Oh yeah?" He was being a little smug this morning, all cocky. Rayna suddenly hated him and hated that girl – his girlfriend.

"Yeah, Ray – you've basically told the guy he's unlovable, the he has absolutely no one in the world who cares for him " Deacon paused as his throat suddenly tightened up. "Where are you gonna go from that?"

"Did you even bother to read the chorus?" She sighed impatiently. "It's here, at the bottom – " He rolled his eyes, and picked it up.

I know why you're lonely; it's time you knew it too

He was trying, really trying not to feel like this was about him, but it just seemed too –

No one will ever love you; no one will ever love you,

No one will ever love you…like I do

He set down the paper quickly, before she could see his hand shake. He cleared his throat and looked up. Nope, her gaze was clear, devoid of any hint that more was going on than another writing session. Okay.

"You know Ray, maybe this isn't a one person song. Maybe it's a duet? What do you think of this?" He strummed the guitar a couple of times and then sang.

Why you always looking for the limelight?
Ain't you satisfied with me?
For once why don't you get down off your high heels,
you're no big deal.
Can't you see?

She made a wry face at him, then grinned and harmonized on the chorus. He wasn't quite sure when it happened, but he realized that they'd started staring deep into each other's eyes as they sang, both unflinching as they challenged each other. She sang out –

I'm all you got.

He countered with -

I'm all you'll ever need.

They both came together on –

I'm all you'll ever have.

It was intense and it took him by surprised as he realized how much he wanted to grab her and kiss her, right there in the Bluebird, Amy and Leah-belle be damned. He thought he could see that same want on her face, same need that coursed through his blood every time they stood side-by-side.

Rayna breathed a sigh of a relief as the song ended. It was too much. It had opened the floodgates to something and she wasn't sure she wanted them opened. She could feel herself slipping. She hadn't expected that little song to open up her heart to him, and she sure as hell hadn't expected him to open his back. It was probably best that they forget that song.

Except, later that evening, when they were winding up their set, Deacon went ahead and announced the song. Except, Watty White heard the song and decided that he was gonna record their demo. Soon Rayna was haunted by that song, and haunted by the ever-building feelings between her and Deacon.

Phew, long-winded and schmoopy like I said. I apologize to anyone who is still reading.

No One Will Ever Love You, is a funny little song, and I kind of half-loved it immediately because it felt like it was two lovers calling each other on their crap but still loving each other – so I tried to contextualize it.

Thanks to KarenES for letting me know that James was not James but actually Jaymes, so I will keep that in mind, but still have yet to go backwards and figure out how to correct the original chapter.

Yep, I know my verb tenses are all over the place, and I apologize. I did try to clean it up.