by Lynn Stevens
“Will you teach me?” I pointed to my face.
She squeezed my shoulder. “Anytime. You’ve always got a place at my house, Cami. You need an escape, come to me. Okay?”
I nodded.
“Maybe after the show, we can go get some coffee and you can tell me what’s going on.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
“Let’s go, guys. Hank may sound like shit tonight, but that doesn’t mean we have to,” Heath said. It brought a smattering of laughter from the crowd.
“If you have to take the mic, do it.” Crystal stepped past me and headed toward Heath. He smiled and put his arm around her waist.
I didn’t have to take the mic. The show never even started.
We sat at tables and a booth at All-Night Long Dinner on the edge of town. Heath wanted to get away from the pissed off tourists who didn’t get to see Hank Walker perform. The rest of the band, sans Dylan, readily agreed. We sat scattered in the same general area with untouched cups of coffee in front of us.
“What’re we going to do?” Crystal asked.
“Go back tomorrow, go through the motions, pray he’s not wasted,” Heath responded.
Mike tossed his crumbled napkin on the table. “This was supposed to be a big shot. Fucking prima donna wasted our chance. I hate that son of a bitch.”
“This might’ve been my last shot,” Crystal said. She slumped against her seat. Heath put his arm around her. “I’m not getting any younger.”
I didn’t say anything. All I could think about was Dylan. How was he handling this? I pulled out my phone. Before I could text him, Crystal slid it from my hand.
“Honey, don’t,” she said softly.
I nodded. She was right. I’d lost that privilege. On the way to the diner, I’d told her about the breakup. Heath drove, but he didn’t say a word until we pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Then he just said, “We’re here.”
“Fuck this. I’m getting drunk. Who’s with me?” Mike stood and headed toward the door. The others at the table grumbled then followed. Heath and Crystal shared a knowing glance.
“I’m sorry,” I said. They wanted to go with their older friends. It was my fault they were stuck here with me. I wrapped my hands around the mug, taking what little warmth was left.
“Don’t be. Mike’s pissed and needs to blow off some steam.” Heath finally sipped his coffee. His lips puckered. He stared into the mug, shrugged, then drained it. I smiled at him. “Coffee’s never been my favorite.”
“Then why’d you order it?” Crystal asked after giving him a playful slap.
“Time for a revisit. Still not a fan.” He waved at the woman behind the counter. “Can I get a milkshake? Half vanilla, half chocolate, no whip cream.”
She nodded and turned toward the machine.
“More your speed?” Crystal asked with a smile. “Did you think to ask us?”
“You want one? You never eat ice cream.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Nah, but Cami might.”
Heath turned toward me, eyebrow still raised but now it looked comical. I laughed and nodded.
“I’ll be back.” He slid out of the booth and stood at the counter, patiently waiting for the server to notice him.
“Tell me the real reason you’re not running off to California with Dylan after this nightmare of a show is over,” Crystal ordered as she tasted her coffee. “The real reason you’re staying here.”
I glanced over to where Heath stood at the counter, eating his shake with a spoon. He gave us a thumbs up.
“My... my mom needs me.” My voice cracked on the words, but Crystal didn’t need to talk to some little girl. She needed me to be the grown up I was now. Mom needed me to be the grown up, too. “The bills had piled up.” I spun the mug around in circles. “I never noticed before, but they were on the table. There were a bunch of final notices. So I used all my money to pay them.”
“Oh honey.” Crystal put her hand over mine. When I looked up at her, tears rimmed her eyes. “Been there, done that. I never had a great kid who bailed me out.”
I shrugged and glanced away. “Not that she noticed.”
“She noticed.”
“I can’t leave my little brother to fend for himself, you know? He’s only fifteen. He can’t work yet and he shouldn’t have to just to have electricity. Dad’s disability isn’t enough and whatever Mom’s bringing is can’t be if she was that far behind on the bills. I just...”
“Feel obligated to stay?”
I wiped a slow running tear from the cheek. “Yeah.”
“You feel stuck?”
“Yeah.”
“Who’s stuck?” Heath asked sitting down by Crystal and putting the large milkshake in front of me. His was halfway gone already.
“Cami.” Crystal snagged the cherry off my shake.
“Why’s Cami stuck?” he asked, politely prodding.
“Long story,” Crystal said. “What’re we going to do to help her get unstuck?”
Heath tapped his chin with his spoon, melted cream rolling down his finger. “Well, Cami needs to hone those pipes of hers. She still needs to find her sound, but I think it’s more country than rock. She gets a little pitchy if she goes too high in her upper range. So, we’re going to work on her vocals and back her up at gigs. Just need to get Mike onboard and find a guitarist.”
“I can get her the gigs, no problem,” Crystal said, taking my mug and adding sugar to my forgotten coffee. “You’ll work on her vocals?”
“Of course,” he said. “Dylan did good, but he got distracted. Cami should be farther than this by now.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, holding up my own spoon. I stared at Crystal. “You’re going to be my manager?” Then turned to Heath. “And you’re going to be my vocal coach?”
“And band. Don’t forget band. We get something out of this too,” Heath added. “But in a nutshell, yeah.”
“You’re too good to clean hotel rooms, Cam,” Crystal said with a wicked glint in her eye. “We’re here to help you get where you need to go. And it ain’t Branson.”
“Nashville. That’s where you need to be.” Heath smiled. “I’m cool with country. Nashville sounds like a big time.”
“This time next year, we’ll be on our way,” Crystal said.
“Or sooner.”
“But Mom—”
“Will be better off if you’re singing, if you’re touring, if you’re making money, if you’re on the radio,” Crystal said. “This is the best way to help you. Trust us.”
The hope that had disappeared came back. It wasn’t much, but it was there. I was holding it tight.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The next two weeks were excruciating. I worked at the resort in the laundry Mondays and Tuesdays. It was hot, and it was tedious. And the pay sucked, but it brought in money. Mom never said anything about the bills being caught up. Maybe she didn’t notice. I doubted that, but I didn’t say anything either.
It was the week after the Fourth of July. Hank had either stopped drinking or simply been on his best behavior. Rumor had swept through the theater that Mr. Reynolds refused to pay Hank for the show he’d abandoned. Fortunately, it hadn’t effective us.
Dylan had been by his dad’s side every minute. He no longer hung out in our dressing room. During performances, he’d set himself up on the opposite side of the stage. Crystal and I went through the motions of happy backup singers. Heath had to work harder to appear as if he was enjoying himself around Hank. Mike didn’t hide his anger though.
We finished up Sunday night’s show with a lackluster encore. I sat at my dressing table when someone dropped a newspaper over my shoulder and onto my lap. Turning quickly, I saw Dylan’s retreating back. He hadn’t said two words to me since that night. A quiver of regret shivered through me. I dug my nails into my palms to stop from reaching for him. The ache in my chest only got worse. It wasn’t about to disappear anytime soon. I bit my lip and lifted the paper. It wa
s turned to the entertainment section of the locale paper. A new mid-season review. My gaze went to the yellow highlighted circle.
Williams sings as if he doesn’t even want to be at Mountain View, much less Branson. He rarely makes public appearances and is robotic on stage. The only high point of his shows is local backup singer Cami Ann Harris. Her voice echoes through the theater and gives hope to a show that desperately needs a jolt of talent. Hear the voice of the next country superstar on her YouTube channel. She is definitely a Branson star in the making.
Written underneath in red ink, Dylan added, “He’s gunning for you again.”
I sighed and let the paper fall onto my table. It wasn’t my fault that Hank hated me. He had never wanted me in the first place. I was Dylan’s choice. Hank wanted people who would make him look great. Somehow, I made him look bad. Honestly, I was surprised I hadn’t been fired yet.
Thanks for the heads up, I texted Dylan.
He didn’t respond. I shouldn’t have expected him to, but I missed him.
My phone dinged ten minutes later after I finished taking off the stage makeup. I looked fifteen again. Crystal had taken over doing my eyes, and it always made me look and feel so much older. It was crazy how much confidence I had every night, too. I felt like someone else, so I was braver and more daring. It was like I left Cameron behind and had become Cami Ann.
I picked up the phone.
Can we talk? Iris had sent it. We hadn’t seen each other since the blow up with Miranda. She’d stop responding to my texts. Why now? It was almost one in the morning. Something must be wrong.
At the theater now. Have to get up early. I wasn’t trying to blow her off, but I needed to clock in at the resort at seven. That only gave me five hours of sleep or less.
I’m here. I’ll drive you home.
That was even weirder. I’ll be out in a minute.
I found Crystal and told her I had a ride. She’d been taking me home the last few weeks. After I reassured her multiple times, it wasn’t Dylan and it was a female, she relented. Her mothering instincts were smothering, but I secretly liked it. Mom hadn’t taken much concern in who I hung out with in a long time.
Iris flashed her headlights at me after I searched the parking lot for her. She’d parked off to the side by Dylan’s car. I smiled. Iris and I had been friends forever. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until now. She knew all my secrets, and I knew hers. She waved from behind the steering wheel as I walked toward her. I waved back.
Dylan’s car beeped when I got close, and I jumped about five feet. Spinning around, I caught his cold gaze. He stood near the stage door with his arms crossed. I wanted to go to him. The pull was so strong. He threw his hands out, locked his car again, and shook his head as he headed back inside.
My heart dropped. He’d reached out with the newspaper article and warning. I should’ve done more than just text him back. And I wanted to. I wanted to fix everything between us. I wanted to run off to wherever with him. I just couldn’t.
Instead, I turned and climbed into Iris’s car.
“Text him a pic of us together,” Iris said, taking my phone.
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, it does.”
She forced me into the pic and snapped it. Then she sent it to Dylan. I ripped my phone from her hands and read the message she’d sent too. It’s not what you think. That was all. He didn’t respond and I put my phone in my lap.
“Why’d you do that?” I asked, not keeping the whine from my voice.
Iris snorted. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and him, but it was pretty clear he didn’t like the idea of you getting into my car. He needed to know I’m not some random dude.”
I didn’t say anything as I stared out the window at the gray siding on the back of the theater.
“Anyway,” Iris said, dragging out the word as she started the car. It backfired before becoming a smooth rumble. “Why are you working at the resort?”
“Who told you that?” I asked calmly. Obviously, it was Miranda.
“Duh,” she snapped. “What’s going on, Cami? She said you needed the money. What happened to all the cash you had saved to leave Branson?”
“Spent it,” I said.
“Why?” Iris pulled out onto the main drag and headed in the general direction of my house.
I wanted to tell her everything, but I didn’t want to either. She’d tell Miranda who would probably use it against me. I’d seen Miranda’s revenge schemes on people who had wronged her or who she thought had wronged her. This information was definitely something she’d use against me.
“Does it matter? I don’t have it. I’m not leaving any time soon.” I pinched my nose. Was I being unreasonable? Maybe, but it really wasn’t her business. She took Miranda’s side and virtually shut me out all summer.
“Okay, I deserve a little attitude.” Iris pursed her lips. She sighed then glanced over at me. “Miranda’s been unhinged, Cami. She’s just... broken. I’ve been sticking by her side to try and help, but she’s her own personal Girls Gone Wild video.”
I sniffled, usually a sign tears were coming. Closing my eyes to stop anything from breaking free, I nodded. Miranda had shut me out completely. And I’d been so focused on the show and my family, I hadn’t gone outside of my own box.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around.” Iris turned on her blinker then made a right. “This wasn’t how I thought our last summer before ... well, would be. You know?”
“Yeah.” I opened my eyes and stared out the window. “I used the money to pay... Mom and Dad were getting final notices to shut off the electric, gas, and water. The mortgage was behind too. I wasn’t going to let my family get kicked out of the house.”
“Oh, shit,” Iris said, not bothering to hide the shock in her voice. “Seriously? It was that bad?”
“Yep.” I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. “I did what I had to do.”
“That sucks.” She turned down my street. “I never knew it was that bad.”
I huffed a laugh. “Me either. I mean, I knew we were poor...”
“You wiped out your savings?”
“Almost. I still have some left.”
“Damn, I’m sorry, Cami,” Iris said.
I shrugged. There wasn’t anything she could do about it. Nothing I could either.
“What about the guy?” She raised an eyebrow as she parked in front of my house. The lights blazed inside.
“It’s over.” There wasn’t anything else I wanted to say about Dylan.
“He doesn’t want it to be over,” Iris said.
Neither do I. “We don’t always get what we want.”
Iris parked the car, but she left the engine running. We sat in silence. The radio played softly. It was a Hank Williams classic. I wanted to turn it off, but you never touch another person’s radio.
“What’re you going to do now?” she asked quietly.
“Work.” I shrugged and reached for the door handle. “Mr. Reynolds hired me to work my off days. Couple people from the band want to do something together once Hank leaves. I’ll figure it out.”
Iris nodded.
“I’ve got to go.” I opened the door and started to get out when Iris stopped me.
“I’m really sorry, Cami.” Her lips tightened into a thin line. “I haven’t been a good friend lately.”
“That’s not true.” I smiled, but it felt bitter. “You’ve been a great friend to Miranda. She needed you.”
“So did you,” Iris whispered.
“I’ll land on my feet.” I stepped out of her car and headed toward the house.
I always do.
The house was quiet when I opened the door. Dad shifted in his recliner. The TV was on, but the volume was almost nonexistent. I picked up the remote on the arm of Dad’s chair and turned it off. Dad would wake in a few hours and turn it back on, so I put the remote back where I found it. Then I switched off the
lamp on the side table. There wasn’t any reason to burn the electricity. We’d pay for it later.
“Cameron?” Mom’s voice drifted from the kitchen. There was a slight hiss in the way she said my name. “Can you come in here, please?”
I wanted to just go to my room, but that would be rude. If I was leaving in a few months, I’d just ignore the command. But I had to live here for... I wasn’t sure how long. I threw my shoulders back and strode into the kitchen. Mom sat at the table, a pile of bills beside her. Her pen was poised over her checkbook.
“Sit,” she said without looking at me.
I didn’t. Instead, I walked toward the fridge and took out a diet soda. Then I sat down. Mom stared at me as I opened the can and took a sip.
“I have to be at work at seven,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because that’s when my shift starts.” I was being a brat, but I was tired. The conversation with Iris had worn me down. It had a definite ending to our friendship.
Mom closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, a move I had done earlier. Funny how we pick up our parents’ habits.
“I’m working at Mountain View Resort now. On my days off from the show,” I said, hoping this added bit of information would help.
She laid the bills in front of me. “Did you pay these?”
“Yes.” There wasn’t any point in lying. She already knew. Why wait so long to ask me? I didn’t care. It didn’t even matter.
“Why?”
“Because they needed to be paid. They were final notices.” The desperation in my voice was unmistakable. “You needed help, Mom. I helped.”
Mom put her hand over mine. “Thank you. But you didn’t have to do that. I would’ve found a way.”
“I had the money, Mom. I didn’t... I didn’t want...” The emotional toll of the night broke me. I put my head on my arm and sobbed. Mom squeezed my hand.
“Cameron, I want you to have your life,” she said softly. “You can’t stay here forever.”
“I can’t let you guys go homeless, either.” I pulled my hand away. “It doesn’t matter now.” I stood from the chair. “I did what needed to be done, Mom. I don’t regret it.” Much. “I’ll start saving again, but I’m going to give you some of my paychecks for bills, too. We’ll both get back on our feet together.”