Page 43 of Serenading Reagan
“What can I get you, sweetheart?” the bartender asked flirtatiously, pulling Reagan out of her thoughts.
“Actually, can you just pass a message on for me?” she choked out.
* * *
Chase had to admit, meeting with Steve, a DJ who was making some killer remixes, had given him a lot of inspiration. He hadn’t planned to be pulled away from Reagan for so long, but when she didn’t come looking for him, he foolishly assumed she would be okay. And, he was still waiting for the opportunity to let Richie know he would be turning down his offer. When Steve got up to go and get another drink, Chase looked around, and couldn’t see Reagan anywhere. Frowning, he got up to try and find her only to be stopped by Richie.
“Chase, dude, where are you going? We still need to talk business. Or have you been too busy having fun with the ladies tonight.” Richie’s booming laugh left a bad taste in Chase’s mouth.
“Have you seen Reagan?” he asked, ignoring Richie’s insinuation about the bimbos he had obviously instructed to hover around Chase all night.
“Who?” was Richie’s flippant response, igniting an anger in Chase that he really didn’t like.
“My girlfriend. Remember? Beautiful redhead that I came here with? Fuck, man, where is she?” Chase bit out.
Richie waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I think I saw her flirting with the bartender. Listen, don’t worry about her, you need to come and talk to—”
“What I NEED is to find my girlfriend and get the fuck out of here. This isn’t who I am anymore, Richie.” Chase stormed off in the direction of the bar. When he got there, he flagged down the bartender instantly.
“Hey, have you seen a red-haired woman, wearing a purple top?”
Chase hated the appreciative gleam that came over the bartender’s face.
“Hell yeah, man, she was one fucking hot piece. Are you Chase?”
Chase nodded, and barely held himself back from reaching over the bar top and grabbing the asshole’s shirt. He was getting impatient to know where the hell his woman had gone.
“She told me to give you this.” The bartender handed a folded napkin to Chase then walked away to serve someone else.
Chase unfolded the napkin and felt his stomach drop at the sight of Reagan’s cursive writing.
Chase,
I thought I could be a part of this with you, but I can’t. You need to pursue your dreams and I don’t want to hold you back. Please don’t come to find me tonight, I need some time. I hope you can understand my decision to step back and give you this opportunity to see what could be for you. The world needs your music.
Love, Reagan
“What the FUCK,” Chase exploded, startling the people on either side of him. He read the note twice more, taking in each word carefully. He knew she meant everything she had written, that was who she was. She never said anything she didn’t mean. So, her asking for time and claiming she was walking away for him was exactly how she must be feeling. Damnit why hadn’t he seen this coming. She had even thrown his words about the world needing her brownies right back in his face. Still, Chase suspected that something had happened to push her over the edge. The Reagan he knew was courageous even in the face of challenge. She would never just walk away like this unless something, or someone, had pushed her to it.
Chase folded the napkin and put it in his back pocket. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who would have chased Reagan away. He stormed over to Richie who was busy talking animatedly with a couple of equally sleazy looking men. “What did you say to her?” he demanded, grabbing Richie’s arm. The other man turned around, surprised, and put his hands up in defense.
“Woah, Chase my man, what’s going on?”
“Reagan left. She would never have left me unless something happened, so I’ll ask you one more time. What the fuck did you say to her?”
Richie had the audacity to laugh. “Bro, all I did was tell her you were going places. Trust me, you’ll thank me for it eventually. You want a girl? I’ll get you three. A star like you doesn’t need a chubby groupie hanging around. Not good for the image you know.”
Without a second thought, Chase pulled back and was about to let his fist fly into Richie’s face when he caught himself. The last thing he needed was for the negative attention that would inevitably come if Chase Thomas was photographed getting into a fight. Then, any hope of returning to his happy, peaceful Portland life would be dashed. He dropped his arm, and fixed Richie with a withering stare of disgust.
“You’re a piece of shit, Richie. I’m done here, done with all of this.”
Chase ran out of the hotel, frantically looking up and down the street for Reagan. When she was nowhere to be seen, he pulled out his phone and tried to call her. It went straight to voicemail. Over and over he kept hitting redial, praying she would pick up. She had left him, with nothing but a note saying goodbye. He knew that his beautiful girl was trying to do what she thought was best for him. That was so like her, to think of his future and not realize that she was the most important part of it.
This can’t be happening… She wouldn’t do this to me… I have to find her…As her phone just kept disconnecting in his ear, Chase lost it. “FUCK,” he shouted, running his hands through his hair.
Record deals, fame, money, all of it was meaningless, worthless, without her. Chase knew to the depths of his soul that Reagan was more important than anything else. Whether he kept playing at the bar or never played another note of music in his life, he would survive as long as he had her.
But now she was gone, and Chase knew he would have to prove to her that nothing else mattered in his life if he couldn’t have her back.
