Southern Rocker Boy (Southern Rockers Book 1) Page 6

  “I did,” I said, crossing my heart with my finger. “Every song that came on the radio I wanted to hear sung by you.”

  “Yeah?” she asked as she sat in the makeup chair. “I hate doing covers,” she confessed. “I really want to do my own stuff but she says I have to get a following first.”

  I nodded with my head to the roaring crowd on the other side of the stage. “Six months,” I reiterated. “Or you could stop singing, pick up a security T-shirt and work with the rest of us grunts,” I added with a grin.

  She pursed her lips as she considered my words. Finally she reached for a spiral folder, which she handed to me. “Pick one.”

  I opened the folder and it was filled with sheet music to hundreds of songs. These were obviously the pre-approved songs Gaynell had instructed her to sing. It was a mix between classic rock, southern rock and current hits. I thumbed through until I found one I had heard all week and had desperately jonesed for her to sing. Only she could match Pink’s powerful vocals, and it was hard-edged enough that, while a ballad, it hit right in the gut. It opened her up to a vulnerability I wanted to see if she possessed.

  “That’s not what I would have guessed that you would pick,” she said as she studied the music.

  I had to laugh. “Why not?”

  “Good ol’ country boy like you?” she said with a grin of her own. “Right down to your shit-kickers.”

  “Teach you to judge someone by the way they dress, Miss Abernathy,” I drawled.

  Her smile softened. I knew it meant something to her that I saw her as she really was instead of some product.

  I walked her out to the car as soon as the next act took the stage. I noticed that she had taken the sheet music to study, which made me look more forward to seeing her again. Southern Nights lost a lot of its sparkle when her dilapidated old car disappeared out of some to parts of Austin unknown.

  It wasn’t much.

  But I felt a few inches closer.

  5: Try

  I arrived on Saturday even earlier than Friday. Gaynell grinned at me as I clocked in at the computer near her office. “You work like a man who needs overtime,” she quipped as she leaned up against the wall. “Why don’t you come and work for me full-time, Jonah? I’m sure we could find some work around here for you to do.”

  “I could always use the extra money,” I told her, though that wasn’t my main motivating factor for showing up early.

  “I gotta admit,” she drawled as she glanced down at the stage where Lacy performed, without argument, in her new silk jumpsuit with a plunging neckline. “You earned your keep with what you did with Lacy. Nary an argument from her today, even over wardrobe. I know that is thanks to you.”

  I would have asked her how she knew that, but it was increasingly clear that nothing went on in this club without her knowledge, or even, to some degree, her consent and control. “I see what you see,” I told her. “I’d hate to see her fired over something as silly as what she wears.”

  “You and me both,” she agreed. “I’d love to give her more nights, but her schedule is pretty limited. It’d sure make my life easier if you were to forfeit your Saturdays to help play backup. Come in at noon, and you can leave when she leaves. I’ll pay overtime for anything over eight hours a day. What do you say?”

  I stared at her for a long minute, trying to figure out what her agenda was. I guessed it was simply because I had gotten closer than anyone to the feral raccoon with the broken leg. “Sure,” I found myself saying. But my paycheck and even Gay’s approval were secondary to my primary reason: I got to spend even more time with Lacy.

  It was the main reason I had watched the clock all day, ready to race out the door and down to the club to see her again.

  The closer I got to the stage, the happier I became. She was using the remaining minutes before the club opened to perfect the new song, which was the one I recommended. She smiled when she spied me across the room. She opened her arms to model the new outfit, a sexy halter jumpsuit in cobalt blue silk. A black leather belt with a lapis stone in the buckle cinched around her tiny waist, and since her outfit was shorts rather than long pants, it showed off a hint of her legs that reached down to the shiny black “shit-kickers” she wore. She did a little dance to show them off and I laughed before I held up an OK sign with my thumb and forefinger.

  God, she was sexy. Even without trying to be.

  And it wasn’t the clothes or the makeup, which highlighted those caramel eyes with copper sheen. It was the sparkle in her smile, the light in her eye. “Blaze,” I greeted when I got to the edge of the stage.

  “Mr. Riley,” she nodded. She knelt down to chat privately. “Gay was so pleased I didn’t resist her wardrobe suggestion, she gave me a fourth song. Guess which one I chose?”

  “I heard,” I said. “You sound great.”

  “Yeah, well don’t tell Pink,” she said as she rose, leaving behind the scent of lilies and peonies. “She’d kick my ass.”

  “I think you could take her,” I said. It only made her laugh more.

  That night the crowd packed the joint. We still had a national act to headline, which seemed to be par for the course on Saturdays. It was a country crossover act this time, so we had equal parts rockers and equal parts cowboys. Both camps hooted their approval when Lacy came out onto the stage. She started with the ballad, which took my breath away, even though I had to keep my back to her as part of my job. But her husky voice was every bit as vulnerable and strong as that song demanded she be.

  I could see her perform in my mind’s eye. I knew every arch of the eyebrow, every darkened shadow in her eyes, as if I were standing right in front of her.

  Something sparked in my soul. I wasn’t the only one. Everyone was transfixed until the last note faded. She launched into a Patty Loveless tune after that, which seemed to impress the country crowd. She covered the Eagles next, ending on a cover of Bon Jovi’s “Wanted: Dead or Alive.”

  The crowd went wild. I was part of the security detail standing right at front, which kept a two-foot barrier between the audience and the talent. She raced offstage even among their cries for more. They wanted one more song and they let her know it. But the schedule didn’t allow encores for the opening act, no matter how much they hollered for one. They didn’t truly give up until the band started to pack up their equipment to make way for the feature act that was traveling with the headliners.

  I didn’t get backstage until she had already changed. She was quietly reading when I tapped on her slightly opened door. Was I imagining things, or did she genuinely light up when she saw me? “Enjoy the show?”

  “You killed it, darlin,” I said as I walked into the room, sitting in the chair opposite of her. “I can’t wait to see the crowds next week. It’ll be standing room only.”

  She laughed. “Let’s hope. The sooner I can fill the room, the sooner I can pick my own damned clothes.”

  I laughed with her. I knew it was a sticking point for her, but I hoped the payoff made the compromise worthwhile. “You looked great,” I said, my eyes lingering over her supple curves that were no less appealing fully clothed.

  She blushed and looked away. “Thanks,” she offered awkwardly.

  “Walk you to your car?” I asked.

  “In a minute,” she said. She pulled the book of sheet music from her backpack and handed it to me. “Two for two?”

  I thumbed through the songs, landing almost immediately on an Aerosmith classic. When I handed it to her, she shook her head. “There’s no way I can hit that note. Steven Tyler walks alone.”

  I laughed. “I think you can make it work. You just have to find a new way to approach it,” I said.

  “Like how?” she asked.

  I glanced at the open door, where other Southern Nights employees passed by. “Maybe we could meet somewhere,” I suggested. “Away from the club?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Why?”

  “Stage fright?” I offered with a shrug.

>   She thought about it. “Business only?” she asked.

  I crossed my heart. “Scout’s honor.”

  A slow smile dawned on her face. Finally she reached into her purse and withdrew her phone. “All right, Ace. Give me your number.”

  I did, which she stored in her phone. Likewise I stored her number in mine. I couldn’t wait to get her alone away from the club, where I could get to know the real Lacy. Then it dawned on me the following day was Sunday. There was no way I could get out of family day with my mom and my sister, no matter how fascinating I found this girl. “Tomorrow’s no good,” I said.

  “For me either,” she said, without going into detail.

  “I work during the week. So it’d have to be nights, if that’s okay.”

  She shrugged. “I can probably fit one night in somewhere. How’s Tuesday?”

  “Perfect,” I grinned.

  I was walking on air as I walked her to her car. I wanted to kiss her before she drove away, but I knew it was much too soon for that.

  But who knew what Tuesday would bring?

  I was still wearing a smile ten miles wide when I went to the bar to get another bottle of water. The bartender, Jacinda, offered me a flirty smile of her own. “Hey, handsome. When did you start working here?”

  “Last week,” I told her.

  “Shame you’re in security,” she murmured. “You look like you belong on stage.”

  I chuckled. “Everyone keeps saying that.”

  She leaned across the bar with that familiar light in her eye. She was buttering me up like a pro. “The star is always the last to know.”

  “Star,” I murmured. “Right.”

  “So what’s stopping you? The fame? The money? The sex-starved groupies?”

  I laughed. “All the above.” I glanced her over. She was a raven-haired beauty with big brown eyes and a luscious hour-glass figure. “Tell you what. You take the stage first. I’ll follow.”

  “Deal,” she winked before sliding the water toward me.

  I looked back at the stage, where the feature act performed. They were a married couple who sang duet, with a few minor hits to show for their five years together. It made me think about Lacy.

  I had never relished singing for anyone but Leah. And now all I could think about was singing with Lacy, our voices blending, making love without touching.

  It got me even hotter for the petite beauty that had captured my interest. “That made every decision I made afterwards easier,” my mom had said of meeting her soul mate in my dad. “I began to weigh each option of ‘with him’ or ‘without him.’ And I never wanted anything without him.”

  I knew right then and there I never wanted to sing on a public stage if I couldn’t do it with Lacy right at my side.

  6: Dream On

  Time moved at a snail’s pace as we inched painfully along to Tuesday evening. Mama and Leah wanted to go on a picnic on Sunday, since it was the first day in a while that Leah felt healthy enough to go outside. We ended up spending most of the morning at a neighborhood park, since Mama didn’t think Leah could handle something as big as the Zilker Metropolitan Park, where Leah really wanted to go. It had a botanical garden and a nature and science center she desperately wanted to explore. “It’s not going anywhere,” Mama told a disappointed Leah, who pooped out around one o’clock. We headed back to the apartment, renting movies and ordering pizza to help pacify her disappointment. We ended up playing a board game all night where she soundly beat the both of us.

  Factory work was presumably boring as hell. My heart wasn’t in it, but I was too proud a man to slack off. I owed it to Mama to give one-hundred-ten percent even when I wanted to be absolutely anywhere else but in a noisy crowded factory where workers milled around like ants.

  Monday night, after Mama and Leah went to bed, I stayed up and listened repeatedly to the song I had given Lacy to sing, fishing my guitar out from under the bed to familiarize myself with the tune. I didn’t get to sleep until nearly three o’clock in the morning, which made that six o’clock alarm even more annoying than usual.

  Time slowed even more to a crawl the closer it came to clocking out that next afternoon. Mama wanted to stop by the store for a few groceries to make dinner, which I normally obliged no problem. I couldn’t stop looking at my watch, even while we were waiting in a line five people deep at the market. Mama grinned at me. “Hot date?”

  My eyes darted to hers. “What makes you say that?”

  “I have never seen a man check his watch as much as you have in the last fifteen minutes. I know you love my cooking, but you’ve never been especially excited about my meatloaf.”

  I chuckled as I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I love your meatloaf, Mama.”

  “But…?” she asked.

  “I’m supposed to meet someone tonight, someone from the club. She needs help with a song.”

  Mama’s eyebrow arched. “She, huh?” I swallowed any reply. “And since when do you help with the music? I thought you were in security.”

  I shrugged. “I just had some ideas I thought would help her. That’s all.”

  “That’s all,” she repeated with a knowing grin. I could never pull one over on my Mama.

  I helped her bring in the groceries before I ran to the bathroom to shower away TX Hill Country Plastic and Steel. My body sprang to life as I thought about her. I could smell her perfume. I could see that look in her eye. I could feel her body, so small and dainty beside my towering 6’2 frame. God, I couldn’t wait to see her again.

  I didn’t even wait for her to call me. I called her just a hair before seven o’clock. She answered on the second ring. “Hey, Jonah,” she greeted.

  Her husky voice poured over me like chocolate. “Hey,” was all I could say. “Up for some rehearsal?”

  “Yeah, about that,” she said and immediately my stomach dropped. “I can’t really get away this week. Something came up.”

  “Oh,” I said. “No problem,” I managed, even though all my excitement burst like a balloon. “Can you talk?” I asked instead.

  She hesitated only a moment. “Maybe for a bit,” she relented. For some reason, this felt like a victory.

  I closed my bedroom door. “I was thinking about what you were saying, about not being able to hit that note.”

  She laughed. “Not by a long shot. I think I have to drop the song entirely.”

  “Not necessarily. Lemme hear what you’ve got so far.”

  Again she giggled, this time a little more nervously. She launched into the song softly, her deep, rich voice opening up slowly with each lyric. My heart warmed hearing this performance for one. I closed my eyes and could see her on stage in a lone, white spotlight, wearing a long gown, her hair wild and loose around her shoulders as the rapturous look of feeling a song deep in her soul stole over her beautiful face. She hit the high note, and her voice did crack as she ran right out of breath. The song was over and she laughed. “See?”

  “You sounded great,” I said quietly. “That note is a bitch. Let’s try it again. This time ration your breath a little so you don’t run out of steam at the end. Let it build.”

  I put her on speaker before pulled out my guitar. She could hear the opening notes as I strummed them. “Is that you?”

  “Yeah. I tinker a bit,” I said, leaving out how I’d practiced non-stop the night before. I started over again. As her voice bloomed, I so wanted to join in with her, especially as she reached the end, powering herself into the note she dreaded. She did as I said, which gave her a little more oomph. But the note still strained her voice.

  “I’m not going to get this, Jonah.”

  “Come on now,” I said, wearing a smirk she couldn’t even see. “Where’s the badass vocal ninja who nearly kicked my hand plumb off?” She laughed. “You can do anything.”

  She took a deep breath. “Not ‘anything,’” she said.

  She sounded down. “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  She chuckled
. “Define okay.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Not yet,” she answered honestly. “But I will be.”

  “That’s my girl,” I said before I started playing again.

  We rehearsed the song until almost eleven o’clock at night, when she had to go. I could still hear her voice in my head as I drifted to sleep.

  And this time I sang along with her.

  The next morning I was bright and chipper for a man who hadn’t had but four hours of sleep. I met Mama and Leah at the breakfast table. “I thought you were going out last night,” Mama said.

  “He was on the phone all night,” Leah confided with a gleam in her eye. High on the list of sibling privileges was making fun of your brother or sister when they became smitten beyond reason. My conducting a ‘date’ with Lacy via our cell phones rather than be denied her company entirely certainly qualified.

  “Did you fix her problem?” Mama wanted to know.

  “Not quite,” I said as I filled my plate with sausage and eggs.

  “Hum,” she said with that same gleam in her eye. “Sounds like you’ll just have to keep working at it.”

  I eyed Mama, who was taking a little too much delight in these new developments. She hadn’t liked the idea of my working all day Saturday, feeling guilty that I was giving up so much of my life for us to make ends meet. But she said nothing more about it once she realized that there was another motivating factor than just paying some bills.

  Wednesday night it was Lacy who called me. She was determined to crack that song. It was right at the tip of her upper register, and she was committed to developing her voice enough to reach it. I knew when she did that it would be a pivotal moment in her career. Once she knew she could hit that note, she would know she could do anything.

  We spent Thursday night practicing hard, with barely any chitchat to distract us. She grew even more frustrated the closer she got to nailing the note. “Why can’t I do this?”

  “You can do this. You’re right there. Just don’t give up.”