Page 46 of Every Now and Then
"I did. I do," she amends quickly. "I love Taylor Swift. It's just this song. I don't like this particular song. Sorry."
"No need to apologize, Yankee." I see the song title,loml, and add it to my databank of facts about Annabelle as I skip to the next song. Unlikeloml,Lavender Hazeis met with a smile.
I drive to a nearby park that surrounds a pond. It’s chilly outside, just nippy enough that most people aren’t hanging out at a park, so we have the place to ourselves. After handing Annabelle a blanket to carry, I lug the picnic basket over to a scenic spot overlooking the pond. Once we’re settled, I unpack the contents of the basket.
“Hayes, you brought enough food to feed a small army!”
I lift one shoulder. “Wasn’t sure what you liked, and I didn’t want to send you back to work hungry.”
“Foodwise, I like most anything. Except beets. They taste like dirt. Oh, and oysters. They’re slimy and gross, and the thought of eating one makes me want to gag. Grace and I call them sea boogers.” She pretends to shudder. “What about you?”
“I’m a typical guy. I’ll eat anything, especially if I don’t have to make it myself.”
“Not a cook, huh?”
Handing her a plastic plate, I motion for Annabelle to help herself.
“Never had the opportunity to learn. My mom wasn’t around much growing up because she worked two jobs to make ends meet. I went to college and lived in the dorms all four years, so I ate my meals in the dorm cafeterias. Then we worked our asses off to make Outlaw successful, crisscrossing the states, and we ate whatever cheap shit we could afford, mostly ramen noodles and food from the McDonald’s dollar menu.”
“Did I just get the abridged version of the Ruston Hayes autobiography?”
I chuckle. “You sure did.”
“Where’d you go to college?”
“Rowdy and I played football at Southern Alabama. Got offered a scholarship, which is the only way I could afford school.”
“That explains the muscles.”
Smirking, I tease, “You checking out my muscles?”
Ignoring my attempt at flirting, Annabelle asks, “Where’s your dad in all this? You never mentioned him.”
“I don’t know,” I admit, grateful that the pain of having an absent father has lessened a lot over the years. “He left when my mom got pregnant, and I don’t know much about him.”
Annabelle looks up from her food, intrigued. “You were raised by a single mom?”
“Yes, Annabelle, I was. She sacrificed a lot to raise me alone.”
“Hmm,” is all she says, but I think that disclosure earned a point in my favor. If she’s hung up on our lives being different, it must help that I have some understanding of her life as a single mother, even if it’s from the child’s perspective. "Tell me more about Outlaw."
"We started Outlaw in high school. Just writing songs and playing around for fun. Mostly because the girls loved that we were in a band," I admit with a smile. "Then, when high school graduation rolled around, we went our different directions. Josh still had another year of school before he graduated. James started working as a mechanic, and Rowdy and I went to college. But during school breaks, we'd always get together for jam sessions. Then, after college, we started taking it more seriously. That's when we recruited Charlotte to be our manager, and she worked her ass off lining up small gigs that led to larger gigs and then eventually a record deal."
I stuff a huge bite of my grilled ham and cheese sandwich into my mouth as Annabelle lifts a spoonful of baked potato soup to her lips.God, those lips.
When I finish chewing, I ask another question. “I still can’t believe you work at a country radio station. How did my Rolling Stones-loving gal land that gig?”
She rolls her eyes with a grin. “Jeez, Josh gave me hell for that last night, too. I work in advertising sales, so I sell commercial airtime, not music. And FYI, my office is in the K-Country building, but I work for its parent company.”
“Speaking of Josh,” I begin, both uncomfortable about broaching the topic and grateful that Annabelle provided me with an opportunity to segue into this question. “How’d your date with him come about last night?”
“Jealous, Hayes?” She arches an eyebrow, toying with me as her dimples appear.
Looking her dead in the eye, I respond without hesitation, “Yes.”
Annabelle sputters at my blunt honesty. “Oh. Umm, well, I met him at that holiday festival y’all played last weekend.”
“That was you?” I blurt out.
