Good Time Bad Boy Read Online Free PDF

was just the family screw-up now. The only person who’d point that out faster than Chris was their daddy.
    Wade found himself wandering through the house, pulling more sheets off the furnishings and opening curtains. The second largest bedroom was supposed to be a home office but it meant much more than that to him. His platinum and gold album plaques were arranged on one wall. Shelves held various awards: ACMs, CMAs, his two Entertainer of the Year trophies, the Grammy he won for Best Country Album. That was for Empty Rooms , of course. He ran a finger over the miniature morning glory horn then the tiny plaque engraved with his name.
    From the time he was old enough to know what a Grammy was, he’d dreamed of winning one. The night it finally happened, he’d been so numb on stage that he’d barely been able to speak to accept the award. Losing what he’d loved most brought him that Grammy. How could he be proud of it? He’d never been able to associate anything good with it. Even after all this time, it felt like something he’d paid for with blood money.
    Shit. Home for less than an hour and he was already so fucking depressed he wanted to crawl into a hole. For the second time that day, no less. Things had to start looking up soon. Surely someone in Brittain would be glad to see him. And besides, he had to find some food. Suddenly supper with the family didn’t seem all that appealing.
    He found his hat and ran out the door. No matter how bad things ever got, he was always welcome at the little joint where he’d gotten his start. Twenty minutes later he parked his truck half a block down from Rocky Top Bar and Grill. A new orange neon sign glowed in the diminishing light. Wade was shocked to see that the adjoining business, at various times an arcade, a tailor, and a pet groomer, had been taken over by the bar. Old man Randy Tucker must have been doing a booming business. Through the floor to ceiling windows it looked like a decent crowd for a Monday night.
    Wade stepped through the door and was immediately assailed by memories. Good memories. His first paying gig as a performer was in this bar. He’d played Friday and Saturday nights for over two years, starting out when he was too young to buy a beer. This was where he’d first learned how to get a bored crowd to listen to him play, how to get a rowdy crowd to calm down. Where he’d learned how to set up his own equipment, play alone or with a band. He’d played to just three people once, on the night of a high school football away game. He’d played to a crowd that barely fit in the space. He played an original song for the first time on the tiny corner stage, earning him a smattering of applause and the phone number of a pretty girl from the nearby college town.
    The wall between Rocky Top and what used to be the business next door had been torn down. It opened into a large dining area half full of people. A two-foot section of brick remained behind the cash register, decorated with framed pictures of Wade at the bar’s tiny corner stage all those years ago. Wade stared at the images, the faint stirrings of something that might have been pride welling in his gut. It had been so long since he’d been proud of himself and anything he’d done, he wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it was a good feeling, warm and golden, and he wanted to hold on to it.
    Someone called out his name. Wade looked up to see a familiar face smiling in welcome. It was Jeff Travers, a buddy from high school who’d married Wade’s cousin Jillian. Wearing a suit and tie but still bearing the charming grin that first got Jillian to notice him, Jeff was seated at a big table full of other middle-aged men in suits and ties. Jillian and the kids were nowhere in sight, so Wade figured Jeff must be dining out with colleagues from the law office where he worked.
    When Jeff waved him over, Wade didn’t hesitate. Jeff rose from his seat as Wade approached the table. “Hey, buddy. I