The Date Deal Read online

  The Date Deal

  Tara Sue Me

  Copyright © 2019 by Tara Sue Me

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover photo: istock.com

  Cover design: Mister Sue Me

  Editing: P. Wade

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  The Date Dare

  Coming Soon

  Also by Tara Sue Me

  About the Author

  One

  “You can’t start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading your last one." Michael McMillan

  The invitation arrives on a Wednesday. It would stick out from the assorted junk mail, bills, and letters from past campers on its own, thanks to the heavy cotton of the envelope, but I’m first notified of its presence by the excited chatter of a ten-year-old girl.

  “Mr. Tate! Mr. Tate!” she yells, running into my office and sliding to a halt seconds before crashing into my desk. She has the day’s mail clutched in one hand, and she’s hopping around from foot to foot.

  “Gracious, Haley,” I say to her, unable to hide a smile at her enthusiasm with today’s mail. Her grandmother, Susan, works for me and often, Haley accompanies her. She shoves the envelope my way. “Look at this!”

  I know what it is the second my fingers touch the heavy paper. I don’t need to read the return address, but I do. Darcy Patrick, Atlanta, Georgia. An invisible fist squeezes my heart, but I only allow it to hurt for five seconds. My smile is back in place when I look down and meet Haley’s expectant gaze.

  “It’s a wedding invitation,” I say, and point to the return address. “See? It’s from Darcy, a friend of mine. She’s getting married.”

  “Is she very pretty?”

  “Yes and smart, too. She travels all over the world with her job.”

  Haley’s eyes grow big. “Wow.”

  I wait for her to turn and run off to find a new adventure or a group of campers to play with. But she’s thinking hard about something.

  “Well,” she says. “If she’s so pretty and smart, how come you aren’t marrying her?”

  “Because she isn’t in love with me.”

  “How is that even possible?” she asks, with all the innocence of a ten-year-old. “You have the coolest job, ever, and you don’t look that old.”

  I can’t help but laugh at why I’m such a catch. “Thank you, Haley.”

  “This guy she’s marrying?”

  “Elliott.”

  She nods, as if she knew already. “Yeah, Elliott. What’s he do?”

  “He works with Georgia’s professional lacrosse team.” At least I guess he’s still with them. The last time we spoke, he was looking for a job that didn’t involve as much travel as his current one.

  She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “It’s like a mix between baseball and football, but not really.” I’m not sure how to explain lacrosse.

  “It sounds dumb. You played baseball and you have this place. She should marry you. Everybody knows what baseball is.”

  Haley’s grandmother walks into my office, saving me from having to come up with other reasons why Darcy isn’t marrying me.

  “Haley,” she says. “What did I tell you about bugging Mr. Tate?”

  “I was bringing the mail to him and his friend, Darcy, is getting married, and she’s dumb for marrying Elliott instead of him.”

  I have to hand it to her, Susan is much better at schooling her features than most people. She knows who both Darcy and Elliott are since she was here the weekend Darcy came to visit. Elliott she knows about since I’ve often credited him for both setting me up with Darcy and stealing her from me.

  Of course she’s also aware I went out with her daughter, Jane, Haley’s mom, a few times in the past before we decided we’d be better as friends. What Susan doesn’t know is that Jane and I became more like friends with benefits, but I’m not willing to lose the best admin I ever had over a woman I haven’t touched since before Darcy.

  Her expression is neutral as she looks at her granddaughter. “Your mother and I have both told you not to call people dumb. Go play outside before I call and tell her what you said.”

  Haley doesn’t hesitate. She spins and is out of my office faster than I can tell her goodbye.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Obviously, she doesn’t know about…” Susan waves toward the invitation I’m still holding.

  “It’s okay.” I stopped telling her years ago not to call me ‘sir’.

  Her gaze remains fixed on the invitation as if it’s a snake poised to strike at me. I place it on the edge of my desk to deal with later. Much later.

  “They’re moving fast, aren’t they?” she asks.

  Darcy broke up with me in November. It’s January now and, from what I’ve heard, the wedding is at the end of next month. Crazy if you ask me. Who gets married in February?

  Moving fast? Yes. Especially when you factor in that according to reports I’ve heard, Elliott proposed the same night Darcy broke up with me. Rumor mill also says he was naked when he got down on one knee. God, I hate that the world of professional sports is just one big happy family and even though I walked away from that family years ago they still accept me. Red headed stepchild they now see me as or not.

  Regardless, I don’t allow gossip in my presence. Especially about people with active ties to that small knit community. Susan knows this.

  I say nothing in response to her statement and she turns and bustles around, picking stuff and straightening up the already spotless room. I wait until she leaves before opening the invitation. The words don’t have the impact I feared.

  They’re getting married in February, just as I thought, but in the garden of a historical home. I put the invitation down. Outside? In February?

  Really?

  I’ll go. There’s no question about it, especially since she invited me. I'll book a room for that Saturday night, which means relying on my staff. Not that they’re not able to run the camp while I’m out for a night, they wouldn’t work for me otherwise. It’s just I like it better when I’m here. When I’m in control.

  I assume it was Darcy and not her husband-to-be who invited me. She’s even addressed the inner envelope “Tate and Guest”. Not only is she expecting me to come to her nuptials, she also wants me to bring a date.

  I can’t help but wonder how many people at the wedding will know who I am?

  Not as Tommy Maddox, but as Tate the guy Darcy dropped for Elliott Maddox.

  It shouldn’t bother me what people think. I'm thirty-one and should be well past the age of caring. Should be. But I’m not.

  Apparently, being the punch line of every late night comedian’s joke, the subject of poorly written tabloid headlines, and being portrayed in a skit on Saturday night television, messes with your head. Trust me, it’s not a place you ever want to visit and if you’re ever unfortunate enough to go there once, you’ll do anything in your power not to make a return trip.

  Usually, I keep myself in line with a set of self-imposed rules. They felt restrictive when I first made them. Now I’ve been following them so long, they’re a part of me. They weren’t strict enough to keep me out
of this pickle, unfortunately. That has nothing to do with the rules though. Nothing and no one could have predicted that Darcy would realize she was in love with her best friend of twenty years while we were dating.

  Even if their relationship could have been predicted, like if Elliott had been honest with me about his feelings for Darcy any of the four or five times I asked, the ultimate ending would be the same. The one night I drove into Atlanta to surprise Darcy, she’d been out with Elliott all day. I didn’t know and when I arrived at her townhouse and found it empty, I sent her a text. That text marked the end of us as a couple.

  The thing is, I don’t miss Darcy. I miss the idea of her.

  I place the invitation back on my desk to be filled out and sent in later. A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s almost time to see how I can help with dinner preparations. I may have at one time pictured Darcy as part of the camp’s future, but that will never happen.

  I, however, am the camp’s present, and there’s rarely any downtime.

  Two

  "My barn having burned down, I can now see the moon." Mizutra Masahide

  “What the hell, Elliott?” I all but yell into the phone. I’m holding the cell phone in one hand and with the other, I’m clutching the wedding invitation I wrestled away from a roommate. She wanted the paper for some kind of art thing and swiped it from the table. Fortunately, I had just returned from my shift waiting tables and had saved it from her shears.

  “What the hell, what?” is his response.

  “You’re getting married next month, that’s what.”

  “I know, right?”

  I roll my eyes. God, he still sounds like he’s still living in Happy Place, population two. I’m thrilled for him and Darcy, I am, but could he not tone it down for those of use who were are still single? “Not only is next month, like next month, but who the hell gets married at the end of February?”

  “I have a cousin who got married in February,” Holly, another of my roommates, says walking into the small kitchen. She bends down and rummages through the cabinets. “They got a divorce three months later.”

  “See?” I tell Elliott, like he’s standing in my kitchen and watching all this unfold.

  “See what?” he asks. “I can’t hear anything other than that banging noise.”

  “Sorry. I’ll move.” I walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my room. It’s small. Tiny actually for what I pay in rent, but it’s all mine. My little quiet oasis in this city. I shut the door behind me and sit on the bed. “Is this better?”

  “Much,” he says. “Now what was the problem?”

  “You didn’t tell me you were getting married in February.” I hate to bring it up, but my best friend is getting married in May, so I’ve already built that time in to my schedule and now I have to redo it again because my older brother and his finance are getting married a week after he proposes. Okay, not exactly a week, but still…

  “We didn’t plan to get married then,” he says. “But Darcy wanted to get married at that house and it happened they had that weekend free.”

  Of course they did because it’s flipping February and no one wanted it.

  “The next available spot was eighteen months away,” he finishes and to hear him say it, you’d think it was eighteen years.

  I don’t tell him that eighteen months from now would be better for me. Nor do I mention how much warmer it’ll be then. If next month and a February wedding make Elliott and Darcy happy, I will not argue about it. Those two are so ridiculously happy and in love, it’s almost painful to watch.

  “In that case, I guess I’ll be traveling between Nashville and Atlanta more.”

  “If you think I'll feel bad about that, I'm not. We all miss you, Carsen. Darcy and I didn’t go into this thinking up ways to get you to come home more often, but I can’t lie and say I’m not pleased it’s turning out that way.”

  I haven’t allowed myself to go home often because it would be all too easy to get comfortable and let Elliott convince me to stay in Atlanta. I chide myself as soon as I think that because Elliott has been nothing other than supportive. He’s said nothing negative about Nashville or my desire for a career in music. Not once has he felt the need to remind me how hard it is to make it in this town or the improbability of getting a record deal.

  “It’ll be good to see more of you and Darcy, too,” I tell him.

  We chat about inconsequential things or, in Elliott's case, wedding plans. It’s fun. It’s been way too long since we’ve had a long talk, even if all we’re doing is shooting the breeze.

  I hang up feeling happier than I have in a long time though the feeling seems to slip away as I glance around my room. I haven’t shared with Elliott how much I’m working here in Nashville. That I’m holding down two jobs and often pull extra shifts to pay my part of the rent and utilities. Or that doing so leaves me with precious little time to find the singing gigs I came to Nashville to find.

  But I can’t give up. I’ve wanted this for far too long and I’ve come all this way. Going back to Atlanta is not an option. I need to work harder for a little longer. That’s all.

  The phone rings and it’s Elliott again. “Did you forget something?” I greet him with.

  There’s laughter from the other end of the phone and it’s not my older brother. “He did,” Darcy says.

  “Hey, Darcy.” I'm thrilled my brother is marrying Darcy. They’ve been best friends since forever and Darcy is the closest I’ve ever came to having a real sister.

  “Hey, Carsen,” she says. “Sorry to call you right back, but I told him to hand me the phone when he finished.”

  Elliott’s saying something in the background, but I can’t make out what.

  “Hush,” Darcy tells him. “You’ve already talked to her. It’s my turn now. Yes it is. I don’t know. Why don’t you go see if the caterer’s here?” There’s a short pause before she’s back.

  “Sorry about that,” she says.

  “No problem. Sounds like you’re busy.”

  She groans, but it’s a happy groan. “Yes, the caterer is due here any minute. We’re insane for trying to pull off a wedding this fast, but I don’t even care.”

  Her voice is full of bliss, a bliss I’ve never experienced. But that’s okay, I’m working toward my career goals. There will be time for bliss and relationships after I make it big.

  “Anyway,” Darcy says. “I wanted to ask if you would be my maid of honor?”

  Her request catches me off guard, but I ask, “Me? Are you sure?”

  “To be honest, I’d always wanted my best friend to stand beside me on my wedding day.” She laughs. “But since I’m marrying him instead, it didn’t feel right to ask him to do both.”

  I’m sure if she did, Elliott would do anything humanly possible to do both roles. That’s how much he loves her. “Tell Elliott all he has to do is be the groom,” I tell her. “I’d be honored to stand by your side when you marry my brother.”

  “Thank you, Carsen. That means so much.” There’s more noise in the background. “The caterer is here, so I have to go. Listen, I have other information, dates and stuff, but I’ll just email those. Thanks again, bye.”

  Dates and stuff?

  I can only imagine those will be even more dates I must take off work. Now that I’m maid of honor, that means even more trips to Atlanta. I don’t know how I'll be able to get all the time I need off. I struggled to work out the details of a recent long weekend to Atlanta.

  No need to worry about it yet. There will be plenty of time after I get her email. Right now I have twenty minutes until I have to get ready for job number two and I’m going to write down the song lyrics that have been bouncing around in my head for the last three hours.

  No sooner have I sat down on my bed and dug a pen out of the bottom of my purse than the silence is broken.

  “Carsen!” Holly yells from downstairs. “You left your guitar down here!”

  I sigh. I left it in th
e kitchen once before. The next morning, I found maple sugar all over the case. Fortunately, the instrument inside hadn’t been touched.

  “Are you coming?” she yells again. “I’m not taking the blame if something happens to it.”

  “I’m coming,” I assure her.

  “And Trish wants that invitation if you’re finished.”

  I roll my eyes and head down the stairs. Looks like I won’t be jotting down those lyrics before leaving for work.

  * * *

  I walk to my second job. I have a car, but parking and gas are ridiculous and as a result, the car stays in the apartment’s parking lot more times than not. The way I look at it, walking everywhere is my exercise since I don’t have time to go to a gym and couldn’t afford one if I did. Elliott would have a conniption fit if he knew I walked home alone most nights. Which is why he’ll never know.

  The bar I’m heading to isn’t much to look at and that’s fine by me because that means it doesn’t attract many tourists. On the other hand, it does attract record label executives.

  There have been a few times they’ve sat in my section. I didn’t do anything stupid, like break into song right in front of them. There was a girl who actually did that shortly after I moved here and it was exactly as cringe worthy as it sounds. The executives weren’t impressed, and the manager fired her.

  I’ve learned you can be bold and take risks to further your career. What you can’t be is stupid. There may be a fine line between the two, but trust me, it’s there.

  I’m hoping that by working at this particular bar, I’ll have something like a home team advantage for the upcoming annual talent search that they sponsor. It’s not much of an advantage, but in this industry, every bit helps.