“You’re in trouble Bonnie. Your gran is going crazy, and after seeing this guy, I don’t blame her!” Bear started in again.
“You talked to her, right? You talked to the police. You told them I was okay. You told her I was fine. Right?” Bonnie asked.
“I didn’t talk to the police. I needed to see for myself that you were okay. I did tell your gran that you called me and told me you were fine, but she didn’t buy it. Hell, Rae. I don’t buy it! She’s shouting from the rooftops, giving interviews to TMZ, hounding the police.”
“Is she worried about me, or worried about my reputation?”
“Both!”
“Why? Why doesn’t she just back off for a little while?”
“She’s afraid everything she’s worked for—”
“Oh, that’s right. Gran’s done all the work,” Bonnie interrupted, and Finn touched her hand briefly, comforting her, before he continued his preparations.
“She’s afraid you’ve gone off the deep end, Rae,” Bear said, his tone softening to couch his words.
“And what do you think, Bear?”
Bear studied Bonnie Rae, his eyes lingering on her cropped hair—glaring evidence of all that had gone wrong—and on the way she hovered near Clyde.
“I think you’ve been standing on the edge for a long time, Baby Rae. You haven’t been yourself. I’m not the only one who’s noticed it either. Some of the crew think it’s drugs, but nobody’s ever seen you taking pills or shooting up. Everyone knows the troubles your brother Hank has had, so they’re wondering if it’s a family habit. You’ve been off, way off, for months now.”
“It isn’t drugs, Bear. It isn’t anything like that. And you know it, Bear.”
“I know it isn’t Baby Rae.” He sighed heavily. “You’re grieving, and your spirit’s broken. But I’m thinking you’re going about fixing it the wrong way.” The black eyes rested firmly on Clyde once more.
“I just need some space . . . and some time, Bear,” Bonnie Rae whispered, pleading.
“You aren’t gonna get much more, Rae. This thing is ramping up every minute that you’re gone. I’m surprised someone didn’t follow me here. I’m even more surprised you don’t have reporters camped outside. If your gran can make it look like you are innocent as the day is long, just a sweet little girl at the mercy of a big bad thug, then that’s what she’s going to do. This is country music, baby. This is big business. You’ve got an image to protect.”
“But what about Finn?” Bonnie protested.
Bear looked at Finn who stood leaning against the sink. Bear’s jaw tightened, and his eyes grew hard.
“Mr. Clyde can take care of himself, Baby Rae.”
“But this is all my fault. I won’t let Gran do this!”
Bear kept his eyes on Finn as he addressed him.
“I’m sorry, man. But you’re going down. Rae’s gran is going to take you down.”
Bonnie gasped, and Bear turned to her. “And Rae? You’re coming back to Nashville with me.”
“No, Bear. I’m not. I’m not going with you. I’m going with Finn to get his Blazer, and I’m going to make things right. You tell Gran that if she ever wants to see me again, she will make this all go away for Finn. She better start singing a different tune, or I won’t sing again. I won’t, Bear. I love you, but I won’t be bullied one more day. I don’t owe you, or Gran, or anyone else one damn thing.”
“Bonnie.” Finn spoke up for the first time, and Bonnie turned to him, tears threatening, apology written all over her face.
“We can’t get my Blazer. They would have called in the plates when they towed it. Maybe the police didn’t pick up on it, but I’m guessing it has been flagged by now. If the cops are really looking for me, the moment we go get it, I’ll either be arrested or they’ll keep it impounded until I’ve been cleared.”
“But . . . but . . .” Bonnie collapsed into her chair, and Bear and Finn considered each other for several long minutes. Then Bear turned to Bonnie and pointed a thick finger at her.
“You should be at the Kodak Theater on Sunday, in that audience, ready to accept that award if you win, Rae.” He looked at Finn and explained. “Bonnie’s song “Machine” got nominated for best original song in a motion picture.” He looked back at Bonnie like he couldn’t believe he was having to remind her. “You remember that, right, Bonnie Rae? You wrote a song that could win you an Oscar? That’s a big damn deal.”
“I remember, Bear.” Bonnie shrugged and looked at Finn as if she were a little embarrassed.
The coffeemaker finished, and Finn busied himself with cups and creamer, setting mugs in front of Bear and Bonnie and keeping one for himself. Bonnie wrapped her hands around it but didn’t make any move to sweeten or lighten the black brew.
Bear wasn’t finished. “You show up there, on the red carpet, smiling in front of the cameras like nothing has changed, holding hands with Clyde here like he’s your boyfriend and not a convict who dragged you off. You’ll undermine everything your gran’s tellin’ everybody, and you’ll do it on national TV, without having to say a word to the police or anyone else. If you win, you go up there and be your charming, loveable self, thanking everybody and their dog—or should I say ‘Bear.’ You do that, and all this just might go away.”