by Ellie Mack
“New thing! Well, a renewed thing. Going to make some changes.”
“When did you decide all of this?” I chewed another bite.
“Last night. Thought about it for a while, been wanting to do it, but last night I made up my mind. It’s time.”
Just as I finished my bagel, Tara came in. She was surprised to see him, but quickly agreed to go in with us. She changed clothes, and then grabbed a bagel to eat on the way. There was only two times before that Mike had picked me up. The first was to get my official server uniform. He paid for the outfit and told me what was acceptable and not acceptable. He didn’t want any of the girls working for him to dress inappropriately. He saw a bit of his daughter in all of us. The second time my car was in the shop and it was pouring down rain.
When we arrived at the club, Carly was working. This made me wonder what was up even more as I figured I was covering her shift.
“I thought you said Carly couldn’t make her shift?” I looked at Mike suspiciously.
“Never said that doll, you just assumed.” I could have sworn his eyes just twinkled. I really hated mind games but there was a certain fascination in watching Mike like up like a Christmas bulb.
I worked in the back room stocking the shelves, occasionally catching a glimpse of Mike with an energy and excitement that I had not seen before. I moved to the kitchen, cleaning the shelves and work surface. I heard several voices with Mike along with a great deal of clattering noise.
“Roxanne, come out here.”
I wiped my hands on my apron and grabbed a tray. Four distinguished men sat around the largest table with Mike. I took their orders then returned with their drinks.”
Once the food wasserved, I went back to the kitchen helping Mark with food preparations. I chopped vegetables, acting as his sous chef. Tara came in and took over what I was doing grinning like a fool. She told me to clean up and go check with Mike.
I wondered what was going on that I didn’t know about. It seemed everyone kept looking at me strangely. Were they talking about how poorly I did on the karaoke thing last night? That thought only made me more self-conscious and wondering what was up.
Pushing through the double doors, I saw that the people were no longer at the table but setting up instruments on the stage. I busied myself bussing the table, certain that it was what Mike wanted, to make sure we made a good impression on his friends. It was great to see him in good spirits. It was apparent that he was excited for his friends to be there. As I cleaned, I listened to them warm up. The bass player resembled Bruce Willis with the cool confidence of a seasoned performer. The keyboardist began running his fingers over the keys as if he was caressing his lover. His long elegant fingers moved in fluid motions as his long jet-black hair fell forward over his eyes as he played. Soon they were moving into familiar riffs of songs that I recognized. I could not help but hum along. It was a secret passion that few people knew I had, a very selfish indulgence.
When they began playing through “Careless Love”, I could hear the soulful sounds of Ray Charles, singing softly under my breath. The guys sounded fantastic together. They sounded better than some bands I had heard in concert.
“Love, oh love, oh careless love.
Whoa Love, oh love, ohhh careless love.
I’ll tell you what careless love can do.”
“Roxy” Mike motioned me over to the band. I blushed, worrying that maybe I got a little loud in my humming and singing. I tucked my cloth in my apron walking sheepishly towards the stage.
“Meet the guys. This is Chubs” He introduced the man on drums. He was far from chubby; in fact, he looked gaunt and haggard. I shook his hand.
“This is Johnny D on keys” He reached his hand to shake mine, a smooth low sultry voice like Lou Rawls.
“Nice to meet you.” He grinned as he squeezed my hand. “You’re right Mike, she’s a looker.”
I blushed. Wasn’t expecting any compliments, and I knew I certainly wasn’t a “looker”.
“Sandman on lead.” I shook his hand; he nodded to me not saying a word.
“And this sad case over here is my brother Matt, but we call him Locks.” He shyly extended his hand nodding.
“Guys this is Roxanne Winters, the doll with the voice.” I blushed smiling. “Join us in a little jam session Roxy. We have the words printed off for you if you need them.” He handed me a bundle of pages stapled together. “Sing for us.”
They started on Kris Kristofferson’s song “Help Me Make it Through the night.” A smooth transition slipping into “Aint No Sunshine”. I couldn’t believe they were playing my favorites and letting me sing with them. After that, Sandman kicked into some awesome riffs leading into “Damn Your Eyes.”
I loved that song, poured myself into it not caring what anyone thought, just feeling it all the way to the end never looking at the lyrics.
“You ain’t jokin’ Mike, she got it.” It was Johnny D. “Can we do that one she sung?”
Locks fingers were magic on the strings. The soulful mourning that poured forth was nearly as god as Santana, similar to Bonamassa. I started in on Baddest Blues. I saw Tara lean against the bar, just listening, her ankles crossed, elbows propped on the bar, tears flowing but she was smiling. There were a few people that had come in for the afternoon that seemed to enjoy the jam.
The last song the guys did was “Rock Me Baby.” I imagined the divine Etta James singing as I belted it out, putting a little extra passion into the song. It was a sensuous song after all, the sultry wails with a touch of raunch, made the lyrics “rock me baby, like I ain’t got no backbone” really hit home with me, pouring my heart into it.
When we finished, the place was packed and the applause was deafening.
Mike turned around grinning like a fiend, happy with his friends in the band. He looked out over the audience, basking in the applause, then turned to me, “Roxanne Winters, you’re fired.”
CHAPTER 26
“Fired? What do you mean fired? What the hell Mike?” I couldn’t believe it. Surely, he was joking.
“Sorry, you ain’t waitressing for me anymore.” He was smiling but there was no hint of remorse in his eyes.
I looked at him in shocked disbelief, standing there staring at him for several minutes.
“Mike, you’re an ass. Always have to be the joker. That’s just wrong man.” It was Johnny D, in that low sexy voice of his. “Roxanne, Sweetheart, you got some real soul. Since you are currently unemployed I got an opportunity for you.”
I turned to Johnny, then back glaring at Mike. “I’m listening”
“How ‘bout you open for the band next week on vocals? It’s a paid gig.”
I turned slowly to Johnny. “Seriously? What?” He had my full attention now.
Mike cleared his throat. “See, if you are in the band you can’t waitress. We have wanted to do the live band thing again ever since Lorna left us three years ago. Me and Locks here knew last night when you sang that you had the sound we were looking for. I can’t afford to pay you to waitress and sing. Not until we start drawing a large crowd. It would be a raise actually. What do you say Roxy?”
I was a little bit miffed at how he did it, but I had to admit it was exciting. Tara and I had the funds from Mom’s estate minus the house and I felt as if I could take a chance and have some fun. Moreover, I figured if it didn’t work out, I could go back to college.
“Sure, I’ll do it.”
“Alright then,” Johnny D smiled. For an older guy, he was downright sexy. That smile was devastating. It was decided when we would practice and where. Johnny had a full studio at his house. Mike planned to open the following Saturday which didn’t give us much time. We met every day at two o’clock. I learned a lot about the guys, we learned about each other’s style and signals. Things just seemed to click as if we had played together for years.
Of all the silly things, Mike bought me an outfit to wear for my first performance. We had a regular party with pizza and dran
k to celebrate the night before. I wore my leather pants and soft flowing Bohemian style top that Mike selected for me. It was not my usual style, but it was nice. After about ten minutes, I swore I would never go back to plain jeans again. Other than a brief moment worrying about my makeup and hair, I found myself completely relaxed, as if I’d found my true calling in life.
It was difficult to think of it as work, but in fact, we were earning a few bucks. Mike had hired some college students to plaster flyers all over town and on every windshield for our debut. There were maybe forty people there that first night. The crowd steadily increased each week.
We mixed classical blues songs with new originals including several I had written. I was so inspired, I dug out old notebooks that I had songs in. Years of heartache, years of Dad never being there, feeling unwanted, all of it gave me material to draw on. It was my life and emotions poured into song. I rewrote most of them, but a few were good in their elemental simplicity.
By month’s end, it was standing room only at the club. I had discovered my own style in clothing, favoring my boots and a leather skirt with a tailored shirt. Chunky jewelry was a luxury I could afford now, so I had plenty of it. I knew this ride was not going to last, but I was determined to ride it to the end, budgeting my money with a portion for playing and investing the rest.
Life was good. I was happy, Tara was happy, Mike was happy, and I prepared myself for the bottom to drop out. It had been five months since this ride began and I just knew that the end was coming. I knew that for me the ride never lasted.
I had been back in the gym, working back to a healthy state. Not at my prime, by any means, but I was comfortable. I didn’t have the hunger I needed for a fighter anymore. I did, however start taking on a couple of clients as their trainer. I had managed to build a good reputation as a trainer.
They kept a tribute to Luke in the lobby, noting that I was his trainer. I think that fact, more than anything else, impressed the people who asked me to train them. I loved it. I loved working out, but not pushing myself to my limits every time.
At the end of the fifth month, I had made a decision. I would get as many songs out of me, out of my system as I could. Maybe it would help me get over whatever it was that plagued me.
I had enough songs for several sets, all original from the depths of my pain. I drew on the anger. I hadn’t realized how angry I had been, but thinking back, on the funeral and the way I blew up at Dad, I decided that it may be in my best interest to talk to a counselor to get over the grief, and deal with the anger.
The first thing they suggested was some form of exercise. I was already doing more than the amount they recommended so I didn’t change my routine.
The second thing was some form of meditative calming. I tried the yoga class at the gym, but it wasn’t my cup of tea. After leaving the counselors office on a particularly deep session of discussing all the hurts from Dad, I left there more in a rage than I had been in a long while. I drove and kept driving. I ended up by Dogwood campgrounds on Table Rock Lake. I had to call Tara, and let her know that I wasn’t going to be home when I planned.
I had driven for three hours. I was unaware of my surroundings, driving over the speed limit, with my mind on writing songs to rid myself of inner turmoil and rage. When I saw the sign for the campground, I couldn’t believe it.
I turned off at the exit, heading straight to the campground. When we were kids, Mom would take us camping here in a tent. It was one of the best memories from childhood. I stood at the edge of the lake, looking out over the serene water, and I could feel the stress leaving me. I could feel the anger diffusing, the turmoil calming.
I wasn’t due at the bar that night, and the only thing I would miss was my own workout. I texted Tara letting her know that I wouldn’t be home until morning. It’s difficult to explain the excitement in that moment, but I jumped back in my car, drove over to the local superstore and bought myself a tent, lantern, a bottle of wine, crackers, cheese and the summer sausage that Mom often would have for us. I threw some fruit, insect spray, and a box of protein bars in my cart and giddily made my way to the checkout. I drove back to the campgrounds, paid for my spot, and began setting up my tent.
It was a comical sight, as I didn’t think about needing a hammer to pound in the pegs. I found a large rock and beat the pegs into the ground, breaking off the plastic tops of a couple of the pegs. It took me nearly an hour to set up the tent but I had done it all by myself! I was more proud of myself in that moment than I had been in a long while.
I took my notebook from my tote bag, and sat on a tree stump staring out over the water. With pen poised, I let the calmness of that place wash over me. The words flowed effortlessly onto the pages. I didn’t think to buy glasses so I was swigging from the bottle. When I was about halfway through it, the sky began to change to a magnificent canvas of colors. I wished that I were an artist, so that I could capture the beauty, then realized that I would use my words to do that very thing.
I wrote the song ‘Sunset Park.’ I knew in my heart that this one had that special something. Happy with my accomplishment and myself, I took my lantern, half-emptied bottle of wine and notebook inside my tent. I hadn’t thought to get a sleeping bag or even buy a blanket, but I was OK with that.
I sat in the tent, cross-legged, enjoying the comfort foods that reminded me of Mom, and finished the rest of the wine. I made a pillow of my tote bag and curled up, shutting the lantern off. I had found my form of meditation! That deep breathing type of deep soul cleansing meditation that the counselor had recommended.
In the morning, I rose completely rested. It didn’t matter that I had lain on the hard ground. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have a proper bed. Camping wasn’t about that, it was a cathartic activity that made every ounce of stress disappear.
The tent was easy to take down and fold up. I had my car packed up and was on the road in less than half of the time that I had struggled to put it up the day before.
I sang to myself in the car driving home, excited to get these songs to Johnny. In my heart, I felt strongly that one of these, specifically Sunset Park could land us a contract with a big record company, something that we’d talked about in the band, but had evaded us. Until now, that is. I just knew in my gut that this could be our ticket.
I was sitting at the table drinking my coffee, eating a bowl of cereal when Tara padded into the kitchen. She moved on autopilot going to the coffee pot, pouring her cup, adding her creamer, opening the packet of instant oatmeal, waiting for the microwave to ding before she made any attempt to communicate.
“Good morning” I said cheerfully.
“Mmm.” She chugged her coffee in one swig. “How come you are so cheerful? You get laid last night?”
I snorted, then erupted in giggles. “I wish!”
She looked at me through bleary eyes. “Then what?”
“You remember that place Mom used to take us camping when we were kids?” My smile broadened as I stuffed a bit of muffin into my mouth.
“Vaguely,” she responded warily.
“Well, I left my counselor’s office and I was livid. I mean, sometimes he can just piss me off like nobody’s business.”
“Wait, you’re seeing a counselor? Since when?” She moved back to the counter to refill her cup.
“I uh, when I started taking clients again at the gym. I thought it might help me get past the grieving and deal with the anger from Dad. Anyway, he has been telling me to meditate.”
She moved back to the table, sipping her cup before setting it down. “You aren’t one of those weirdos that goes out in nature to do yoga, are you?”
“No, Tara, it’s nothing like that.”
“Good. I mean if it was, that’s fine. I guess, as long as you let me tag along to take videos when nature goes wild on you, like a giant wave rolls over you when you are doing that arch your back and touch your toes to the back of the head thing.” She snorted, amused at the image.
&nb
sp; “Anyway,” I waited until her fit of giggles subsided. “I was upset after leaving his office yesterday. He was suggesting that Dad wasn’t as big of an asshole as he is. He suggested that I, we try to include him in our lives, and have compassion for him.” I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, like that is ever going to happen. So I was mad. I drove. Ended up by Table Rock, where Mom used to take us camping.”
“That was a nice place. I do remember those camping trips.” A sentimental smile creased her mouth as she poked her spoon at her oatmeal.
“I saw the sign and got off the highway and ended up at the water’s edge, staring out over the silvery ripples. The stress just seemed to melt away. I went to the superstore and bought some stuff, namely a tent.”
“Oh man, we threw that old tent of Mom’s in the dumpster. Maybe we should have kept it.” She said around a bite of oatmeal.
“Nah. I don’t think I would have liked to use that one. Anyway, it was glorious. I will definitely bring something to sleep on next time, and pack some glasses so I don’t chug the whole bottle of wine, but Tara,” I clasped her forearm, my excitement uncontainable, “I found my meditation. I wrote several songs, then slept like I haven’t slept for ages.”
“That’s good. I guess.” She shrugged as she scraped the bottom of her bowl and reached for one of the peaches that I had in the bowl between us. “Would have made more sense if you had gotten laid.”
“Well, a key ingredient is missing for that. Since I don’t have anyone in my life anymore, it’s difficult to get laid alone.”
I was starting to get aggravated at her. I knew it was unrealistic for anyone else to get my excitement. I took a deep breath, and vowed that some day, when I was on that stage belting out Sunset Park, her not getting it wouldn’t matter.
I had to go in at two that afternoon. I was excited to get my songs to the rest of the band, and start practicing.
“I’ve got to get ready for work.” She set her bowl and cup in the sink then stopped. “Look, Roxy, I know you’re excited and I’m happy for you. I didn’t mean to bring you down, I was mostly joking about the getting laid thing. I know it is still painful with Luke gone. I’m sorry.”