Highway Song: A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel (38 page)

“
I
’
ve been writing songs,
”
I said. I couldn
’
t have explained why I said it then, but it was connected. And she saw that.

“
Then go and record them, baby. I need to hear them. And I need you still on my side when the case comes to trial. Please, for both our sakes, go,
”
she said.

And so, I went. The invisible strings that bound me to her were strong enough to stretch from Dallas to LA. It remained to be seen whether they could snap with the pressure, or whether they
’
d pull me back to her when her trial started.

Because I
’
d come back with a dozen or more songs, the label took us back under probation. We began again, recording a CD of nothing but our core Southern Rock sound, and it was good. Everyone said so. I hated it, because Amy had been erased from the band as cleanly as if she
’
d never been one of us. The label even withdrew our hit song and released another single to replace it.

When they began scheduling a new tour, I told them to be sure I
’
d be free to go to Texas during Amy
’
s trial. In the months that had passed since I left, I knew from the lawyer keeping me posted that they
’
d made it through discovery, and the prosecution
’
s case was based solely on Amy
’
s fingerprints being found at the scene and some circumstantial but unprovable evidence that she had been friends with the victim. The purported motive for murder was she had argued with him and moved out. Pre-trial motions had failed to have the case thrown out, but he was confident he could discredit the evidence, which was weak at best.

Because the trial was right around the corner, the proposed tour was delayed until after it should be over. The judge had scheduled five days for evidence to be presented. I
’
d be expected back as soon as she had a verdict.

Privately, I told myself that would depend on what the verdict was. If she was found guilty, I
’
d be there to speak for her during the penalty phase, tour or no tour. And if the worst happened, I
’
d have a full-time job trying to keep Texas from executing her.

Amy

W
ith the trial drawing closer, I spent hours with Mr. Jameson, preparing for what was to come. He coached me on everything from how to keep my expression neutral when the prosecution said something untrue about me or someone taunted me in transit, to how he
’
d have me dressed during the trial.

Even though I was forced to wear the orange jumpsuits during the time I was in my cell, I had the right to dress like a free and innocent person in the courtroom. He had won the pre-trial motion that having me enter the courtroom in shackles while the jury was there would be prejudicial. After all, the principle was that I was innocent until proven guilty. The natural belief of most people that the police, and especially the FBI, were usually right was already prejudicial enough.

On the day before the trial was to begin, Rex showed up for the first time since I
’
d sent him away. For weeks, I
’
d been able to put him, and our relationship, in a closed part of my mind. There, thoughts of him could comfort me in the long nights, but they didn
’
t distract me during the days. I needed all my wits about me in the daytime to focus on my lessons and to stay alert to threats. Fortunately for me, there were fewer of the latter than I expected.

County lockup was much different from prison, I discovered from repeat offenders who talked to me in the common room on occasion. We were all addicted to a TV series that featured a socialite who
’
d gone to prison and had to discover how to survive there. At times it was hilarious, and at others it scared the hell out of me.

I was no socialite, but neither was I accustomed to the environment it depicted. Some of the inmates who were would comment on how the show was accurate in some ways, and not in others. It seemed to me that the main character lucked out on many occasions, and I knew there was no such thing as luck. At least I
’
d never had any, unless it was bad.

The most laughs came in scenes when the main character
’
s fianc
é
tried to cope with her absence, especially when it came to sex. I didn
’
t find it very funny. It seemed to me that the most likely scenario would be the lover would find someone else. Especially if the inmate had a long sentence, or was on death row. What would be the point of waiting for someone who wouldn
’
t be out for fifteen years? Both the inmate and the loved one would be different people by the time fifteen years had passed.

Mr. Jameson was determined to save my life if not see me freed, and no matter what I said about it he wouldn
’
t hear my opinion that death would be a better alternative to years in prison.

“
You don
’
t have any basis to be able to compare,
”
he
’
d say, and then he
’
d change the subject.

When Rex came back, the thrill I felt from my center to my extremities convinced me Jameson might be right. Although I was schooling myself to expect the worst, I couldn
’
t help but wonder if conjugal visits would be allowed on death row.

We still weren
’
t allowed contact. Jameson told me that Rex might be allowed to hug me briefly in the courtroom before the jury was brought in, if he would submit to a thorough search of his body, meaning a cavity search. I didn
’
t even bring it up. I couldn
’
t stand the thought of anyone else
’
s hands on him, even if it wasn
’
t for pleasure. We settled for miming kisses through the glass and briefly placing our hands on the glass to simulate touching, knowing the guard would yell at us if we lingered there.

At first, all we could do was gaze at each other. He was more beautiful than ever, but with a haunted look that I feared was because of me. Conscious that the visit would be brief, I forced myself to make conversation.

“
How
’
s the CD coming?
”

“
Nothing
’
s changed since I wrote you,
”
he said.
“
It
’
s finished. Due for launch in about a week. The label wanted interest in your case to die down a bit before they released it. Something about fan lash back.
”

“
I
’
m so sorry to be affecting everything you and the guys are doing. You deserve success.
”

“
Don
’
t worry about it, sugar. We
’
re fine. Except you belong on that record, too. They booted our song.
”

“
I know. You told me. It
’
s okay, baby. You
’
ll do fine without me.
”

I meant his career, but Rex squeezed his eyes closed and said,
“
Never,
”
so low I didn
’
t hear it. I only read his lips, and I knew he meant
us
.

“
Baby, promise me, if this doesn
’
t go well, you
’
ll move on. I
’
d hate to ruin your life even more than I hate what
’
s happening to me. Promise me.
”

“
I will not!
”
His eyes were wide open now, and he was glaring at me.
“
We
’
ll get through this together, sugar. I left you behind once. I won
’
t do it again.
”

His reference to when he and his mom left my dad touched me deeply. If they hadn
’
t
…
But they had, and the rest couldn
’
t be changed now. If it meant I was free to love him as more than a stepsister, I wouldn
’
t change it, except for Frank
’
s death. I
’
d give anything for that not to have happened, and not only because I was about to be tried for it. He didn
’
t deserve that, after a lifetime of service both paid and voluntary.

But I couldn
’
t think about that now. I focused my attention back on Rex and told him what Jameson had mentioned to me.

“
Do you have a nice suit, Rex? Jameson wants you to look sharp in the stands. He
’
s going to have me in a conservative women
’
s business suit, complete with pearls and low-heeled pumps. I
’
ll look more respectable than I
’
ve ever looked in my life.
”

“
I don
’
t, but I will before the end of the day. Someone will have to tie my necktie for me. Haven
’
t worn one of those in decades.
”
He laughed, and from there our visit became about making fun of people whose jobs and self-respect depended on what they wore. I had to agree. He looked best in nothing at all, but I didn
’
t think that would go over well in the courtroom. When I told him what I was laughing at, he joined in, so loud that it brought the attention of the guard to us.

When the visit was over, he promised to be in the courtroom early, and to find out from Jameson if he
’
d be allowed to touch me. So much for my wanting to spare him that search.

Early the next morning I was transported from the county facility to a secure room in the courthouse, where a matron guarded me while I dressed and put on makeup. Transformed from an orange-suited jailbird to a presentable young woman in a slim black suit, I indicated I was ready, and the matron let in Mr. Jameson. She went out of the room at the same time, but locked him in.

“
Well, Amy, are you ready for your big day?
”
he asked, apparently in a jovial mood, from the twinkle in his eye.

“
I
’
ll be glad if this is the biggest one I have to look forward to,
”
I quipped back, referring to the media storm that would occur if I were to be executed.

“
No, that
’
s not correct.
I
’
ll
be glad when I see you onstage accepting a music award.
”
The twinkle was gone, and I could see he was sincere. Tears threatened to ruin my makeup.

“
I can
’
t thank you enough for taking my case, Mr. Jameson. Whatever happens, I know you
’
ll have done your best.
”

“
My dear, I won
’
t have done my best unless you are set free in a couple of weeks. And that
’
s what I fully intend to happen. Now, it
’
s time to go. There
’
s a certain young man in the courtroom who has endured a very uncomfortable few moments for the privilege of giving you a brief hug. Let
’
s go make sure he didn
’
t do that in vain.
”