The Bequest

After we're seated, I order a coffee. He does the same. It is almost two in the afternoon, after all.

"We close in half an hour," the waitress says.

"I know," Eddy says. "Thanks, Olivia."

After she walks off, Eddy looks down at his empty hands. "I need to explain something, and it's hard for me to talk about. Can you wait until I'm done to say anything?" "Sure."

"When I was a teenager, I worked here, in this restaurant. It was open for dinner then, and I came over most days after school, and on Saturday afternoons." Weird start. "Alright."

"One day, a lady came in. She chatted with me for a while, asking me all kinds of questions. Could I sing? Could I play any instruments?" He rolls his eyes. "I couldn't play anything at all. I figured that would send her packing, but it didn't. Turns out, she and her producer were looking for a front man. They had a band assembled, out in California. This was kind of common back then, apparently. It wasn't the first time they'd kind of hand-crafted a band for a music label." This is so not what I was expecting him to say.

"Anyway, I couldn't believe they wanted me, a nobody whose dad was a park ranger."

It's like he still doesn't realize how ridiculously gorgeous he is. Can that be true?

"I knew it was only because I was good-looking, but I let it get to my head."

So he does know.

"My parents argued at first, but the company offered a lot of money. They thought my parents' concerns were really just a way to negotiate for more money, because by that point, I'd done a sound test. Someone thought I had a nice voice, so they offered even more money. Eventually, they convinced my parents to let me go. They taught me guitar lessons, and they gave me voice lessons, and I met my other band mates." He shrugs. "It was actually really cool. For a while." Uh-oh. I can hear the 'until' coming from a mile away.

"I liked the other guys in the band. I was the youngest one-by almost three years. Two of them were four years older than I was. I'd barely gotten my driver's license, but they were already twenty. It may sound like I'm making excuses, but I really just want you to know where I was coming from."

Making excuses for what? I'm so confused.

"Our first record did really well-better than anyone thought it would. In fact, we made the record label a killing. It seemed like a no brainer to start working on another one...and to go on tour."

I can hear the shoe drop in his voice.

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"I didn't even know what most of the stuff the guys were using was called. I told them no a few times, but they made fun of me for being a little kid." He looks up then. "What a stupid reason, right? My name is Eddy Dutton, and I got hooked on cocaine because my friends called me a little kid when I didn't want to try it." He closes his eyes. "My manager covered for us at first. Then the entire record label did. The tour was a success, the second record recorded, and everything was fine." He winces. "Until I was high as a kite, and I hit a pedestrian with my car."

Oh, no.

"He died, immediately."

"I don't remember anything about-"

He drops his head in his hands. "You'd probably remember our band, if I played you a song or two. You might even remember our name. The Shenanigans."

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember a lead singer killing someone with his car."

"I got lucky," he says, bitterly. "The man I killed, the man I murdered, really, was out on bail. The evidence against him was overwhelming, from witness testimonies to forensic evidence. He had killed eleven different women. The media decided, with a little incentive from my manager, to drop coverage of his death. I was a minor for another three weeks, and they even managed to get me out of criminal charges." He sighs. "What if I'd hit someone else? And what makes it okay that I took someone's life, just because the person I killed was a terrible person? I robbed all the families whose daughters and wives he killed of their justice, too."

I'm not sure what to say.

"I went to rehab," he says. "Twice. The first time, I graduated-couldn't really even consider drugs after what I'd done. But when I went back out on tour, I felt so guilty. I felt like I was worthless, and when someone handed me a way to forget.. .I took it." He sighs. "The second time I graduated from rehab, I broke my contract and went home. The record label threatened me every which way from Sunday. They even filed a suit against me personally, as I was eighteen at that point, for breach of contract. I didn't argue. I let them take everything I still had left in my bank accounts. I let them do whatever they wanted. I knew I could never go back to that life, not if I wanted to find the kid I'd been before it all started." That was clearly the right call. Look at the life he's made for himself since. "Eddy, I'm not someone who "

He shakes his head. "You don't get it yet, right? I looked you up."

I blink. He looked me up?

"I saw your insta account-your loyal followers. They love your brand. I did some research into what that means. They're in a frenzy over the photos of me, not because of who I am, but because of how it looks, to have a smart, sophisticated widow dating a cowboy. A rugged, good-looking cowboy, but still. I'm the handsome 'everyman' that they want to believe you would fall for if given a chance." "What's wrong with that?"

"Think for a moment what would happen to your brand if the media saw my full face and discovered who I am. If they look me up and discover that I killed a man. Think what would happen if they discover that it took not one, but two trips to rehab for me to stay straight? I still go to AA meetings regularly, Mandy. Do you think your fans would appreciate your choice of a hot, rugged cowboy, then?" "You sped away...for me? Because you think that's what I need?"

He shrugs. "I thought you were smart and fun and cute. I knew you were only here for a while, but I liked spending time with you. But the thought of inviting the media back into my life? The thought of all that scrutiny and stress and pressure? I did it for both of us. That's why we can't date. That's why I'm not going to be asking you out again. I didn't want to tell you any of this, you know, but the thought of you blaming yourself, or thinking you'd done something wrong-" The waitress finally shows up with coffee in to-go cups. "Thanks." Eddy throws some cash on the table and stands. The second the waitress is gone, he says, "I did it because I didn't want to hurt anyone else, at least, not any more than I had to."

At least I know it's not me, but like the Lololime news, it doesn't really make me feel any better.