Sultry Oblivion by Alexa Padgett
Aya
The two-lane highway bisected the lush, green fields slowly drying and browning under the blazing sun. Bluebonnets burst out of the grasses in clumps of swaying carpet. I noted a lone mesquite tree, with its twisted trunk and stunted branches, from my vantage point in the back seat of the Tesla next to Nash. This landscape was so different from the Cotswolds where my father and Harriet preferred to holiday—with my money.
My lips twisted as I remembered the article my solicitor had forwarded me. My father had recently granted the Sunday Times an interview and expressed his concern over my profligate lifestyle while living with my mother. He worried Nash would turn me into a drug addict and drunkard, and said he’d had no choice but to prove his concern and the seriousness of my actions by seizing my bank accounts and firing my solicitor.
He’d detailed some of my mother’s wilder moments, which had occurred while she was still at university, to showcase how like her I was—how in need of a firm hand to keep me from making the same deadly mistakes. My father had taken great pains to ensure that the public assumed drugs had caused her death.
I slid my hands under my thighs to keep from clenching them, not wanting to upset Nash. He’d set up this day, and I wanted to enjoy it with him.
“You going to tell me what’s got you so twisted up?” he asked.
I sighed. Most people considered me closed off, but Nash had always read me with ease.
I smiled. “Later.”
He tugged my hand from under my skirt and wrapped his fingers around it. “Now, Aya. I don’t want it eating at you.”
I opened my mouth to refuse but fear darkened his eyes, those damn storms brewing stronger.
Keeping my voice low, I gave him the update. Nash’s jaw clenched, but he never interrupted.
When I finished, he nodded once. “What do you plan to do about it?”
“I’d already moved a large portion of my funds to an account in the US months ago, once I realized he was manipulating me to get to my mother’s money. That’s in my name, so my father shouldn’t be able to touch it.”
“If you want me to—”
I shook my head even as I squeezed his hand. “No, Nash. I have to deal with this myself.”
“I’m quite good at leveling the playing field.”
I smiled at him, trying to take the sting from my rejection. “You’re ruthless. But this is my battle, and I plan to see it through.”
He grumbled, his eyes narrowed, and I could tell he was playing out scenarios in his head.
“Nash?”
“What?”
“I can’t lean on you forever.”
“Why not?” But then he sighed. “Okay. I get where you’re coming from.”
I raised our joined hands to my lips and kissed his. The bruising had faded, turning a sickly chartreuse and purple. Soon he’d be able to play his guitar again, something he’d missed this week. I was glad he hadn’t had any gigs because the discomfort, had he insisted on playing, would have been fierce.
“Tell me about our afternoon,” I said.
He glared at me for one more moment before he let the matter with my father drop. “I’m taking you to Becker Vineyards.”
My smile widened. “Really? The one with all the awards?”
“One and the same,” he said with a smile. “And I’m catering lunch there for the staff and us from one of the local restaurants.”
I scrunched my shoulders toward my ears, excitement thrumming through my body. “Yum.”
We pulled into the smoothly graded dirt parking lot. It was large—and empty.
I raised my eyebrow. “You rented the place out?”
“Sure did.”
I would have shaken my head, but I was coming to understand the constancy of pressures Nash faced from the press. He deserved this break, and I wanted him to myself.
“Not just for you,” he added. “Though that’s a benefit.”
“Why, then?”
“Because we’re going to film a video here, and I’m having Hugh and the vid team go over possible locations on the property while I wine and dine you.”
I chuckled. “I love the two-birds-one-stone approach.”
“I didn’t want you to think too highly of yourself.”
I laughed.
He waited for security to open his door before he turned and offered me his hand. I glanced up at the estate, charmed by the yellow rock and pitched metal roof surrounded by long, red outbuildings. Definitely not a chateau I’d see in the Seine Valley, but it had its own Texas charm.
We entered the tasting room to find a smiling group of staff, including the head winemaker. “I’ll be pouring your wines while you eat,” he announced.
I practically bounced in excitement. Sure, I’d attended society dinners, but to have lunch with wine pairings explained by the man who made them? What a fantastic experience.
My enthusiasm caused Nash to chuckle. A staff member locked the front door and led us to a secluded table toward the back, already set with gleaming silver and white linens. There were six wine glasses in front of me, along with a water goblet, seeping moisture down its sides.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to sample the wine? I don’t have to—”
Nash clasped my hand in his. “You don’t have to change your life just because I can’t stop after a drink.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand. “I’ve thought a lot about this. Touring is a free-for-all of sex, booze, and pills. I’ll have to manage being around it.”
I winced. “Cam’s tour wasn’t,” I managed weakly.
“Cam’s ex-military. There’s hierarchy there, based on his leadership of those guys in life-and-death situations. Plus, Cam is the band, and his musicians know it. My band is more traditional. Jax, Tatum, and Bridger are all at least five years older than me and had been living the lifestyle before they joined me. While the songs are mine, and that powers the band, they’re right to have huge egos. So, we’ve had an understanding since I signed them that summer in Seattle. They do them after shows—which includes all those things I mentioned—and I do me, which was typically to head back to my suite or a private bus and drink by myself.”
He scooted a bit closer. “I’ve never been interested in their parties, so me not attending won’t be a change. And when you tour with me, we’ll do it our way anyway.”
“And what will that entail?”
He winked. “We’ll skip the booze and pills. But I’m definitely sexing you up.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to create unnecessary temptation.”
Nash chuckled. “You are my temptation.” He nodded toward the glasses. “This is a little test—that I’m doing for me. This is a safe environment. I need to know how I’ll react, and I really want you to enjoy your lunch.”
“But—”
He raised my hand and kissed my palm. I shivered at the soft feel of his lips. Oh, how I wanted this man.
“No buts.” He lowered my hand to the table. “I have to manage my addiction,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
With that, he caught the eye of the staff and nodded.
For the next three hours, Nash and I nibbled our way through a delicious array of foods. I ate a salad of local greens, pecans, and blue cheese served with a muscat-chenin blend, followed by grilled chicken over a creamy pasta that paired remarkably with the viognier. I tried mushroom and truffle oil soup with a rich cabernet sauvignon. And between each course, Nash and I talked.
He caught me up on his friendship with Hugh—how Hugh had been the only one of his friends to fly to Paris for Pop Syad’s funeral, how Hugh had shown up at the house they were renting and stayed with him after the San Francisco fiasco.
He asked me about my courses, my time at university, and my position at the electric car company. He frowned. “Why not aerospace engineering?”
I paused; a bite of lemon meringue pie stalled halfway to my mouth. I set the fork down and sighed, not wanting to get into another heated exchange.
He seemed to realize where the conversation was headed because his shoulders tensed, and his eyes shut.
“No, Nash. That wasn’t anything to do with you. There isn’t a strong aerospace engineering program at Imperial College, and I was too…” I looked away. “I was so worried people would see me as your castoff that I didn’t want to be in the US. I’m the one who gave that up, with some wheedling from my father. I found out recently that he skimmed off a good portion of the hefty donation he said he used to pay Imperial College to accept me so late in the year. He manipulated and swindled me from the beginning, and I… Even after I began to suspect that, I wasn’t ready for the responsibility of that wealth or taking care of myself. It was easier to just go with the flow.”
Nash’s turbulent eyes narrowed as fury settled over his face, but instead of pursuing the topic further, he said, “You done?”
I licked my lips. “Yeah. I really can’t eat any more.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
I followed him out of the tasting room. “You don’t have to take care of me, Nash, or take my choices on your shoulders,” I told his stiff back.
He pushed through the door and out of the building, then faced me, both of us blooming with sweat as the heat hit us.
“But that’s just it, Aya. I fucked up your life. Just like my mother’s inability to remain sober fucked up mine.” He turned away. “I’m just so sick of other people’s decisions continuing to cause problems.”