Unfinished Business

2

Eight years earlier

There's no way in hell I'm going to make it in this damn town.

I've only been here for two hours, and I already hate it. There's nothing here. Our new house that my dad purchased is in the middle of nowhere surrounded by fields of sunflowers and manure, not the honking of a car or blasting of music to be heard for miles. Just crickets.

I've been sitting on the worn-down porch steps staring into absolutely nothing when my dad joins beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Why don't you head into town?"

"And do what, exactly? Ride a horse?"

He sighs. "No, but I'm sure there are some kids there that go to your school. The grocery clerk said that a lot of them hang around this restaurant called The Starlighter."

"Sounds fantastic," I reply sarcastically. Not an ounce of me has an interest in meeting new people, especially in a town like this, but I can tell it's bothering my dad that I might not like it here. The move wasn't his choice. It was either take this job or have us struggle back in New York from losing his old one, so I let out a sigh of my own and rise to my feet. "Fine, but I'm not staying long."

*******

Despite my new house being in the middle of nowhere, it was surprisingly only a ten-minute walk before reaching downtown Darlington. When I say downtown, I'm not talking about tall buildings and busy streets. Darlington's version of downtown is literally one main street with basic parking and old-timey shops that seem like they haven't been updated in centuries.

It's not hard to find The Starlighter since it's the only place playing music. It looks like a log cabin on the outside, and in the distance, a lake glimmers behind it. Pine trees shoot up in every direction, enclosing this place like it's its own sanctuary. I'm not sure what to think of it, but when I step foot inside, I quickly regret coming.

Country music blasts from every speaker, and as I look around, it's cowboy hats galore. The women are either wearing plaid shirts or ripped jeans, the men mirroring the same, and when I glance down at my outfit, I cringe. I'm wearing the best dress I have: a baby pink flowy one with balloon sleeves and a pair of high wedges. All eyes turn to me, and it's clear as day that I'm new here.

Neon beer signs and naked women on posters are plastered on the walls, and a part of me wants to laugh at my dad's suggestion about me coming here. Clearly, he hasn't checked this place out yet.

"Well ain't you just a pretty thing," a random man says beside me. He's sitting at the bar, arms crossed over his beer gut that's covered with a leather biker vest. I gulp as I analyze his hair that's already half gone, a balding spot in the center of his scalp. "Dressed in your Sunday best, ain't ya?"

"Rick, ya better leave her alone before I kick yer ass out." A tiny woman is racing behind the bar to get everyone their drinks, sending me a sympathetic stare. She's got tattoos covering every inch of her exposed arms in the tank top she's wearing with spiky black hair that looks like it could cut someone. "Yer the new girl I take it?"

My eyebrows come together in confusion. "I am...but how did you know that? We just got here a few hours ago."

She laughs as she shakes up a margarita. "Honey, you'll quickly learn that in Darlington, word travels fast. Mr. Daughtry, the man who owns the farm beside ya, saw the moving truck, and, no offense, but right now ya stick out like a sore thumb."

"I guess I'm still learning the dress code," I mumble.

She passes me a menu and cocks her head to the side as she pours the drink she was making into a glass. "There's a spot open a couple of seats down away from Rick here. Take a look at the menu and let me know what ya want. Open mic's about to start soon."