Dare to Dream by Sloan Johnson
Text copyright © 2014 by Sloan Johnson
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Cover Photography and Design by Cover Me, Darling
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Coming this November
With Love, Charlie
Chapter 1
Colby
So far, life in Nashville isn’t all that different from back home. The only glaring exception is that I would give anything to be able to come home and see Lea when I walk through the door. We talk on the phone or Skype every night, but it’s not the same. I want the smell of her fruity body spray permeating my senses. The feel of her arms squeezing the life out of me because she misses me after only a few hours apart. And even though we didn’t have nearly enough of them, I miss the mornings, when Lea’s face was the first thing I saw as my eyes came into focus.
Knowing that I’m only a few days from seeing her, holding her, makes it hard to concentrate at work. Aaron has been a godsend, adjusting my schedule so I can attend an open mic night each week and giving me time on the small stage in the corner when there’s no other act scheduled to perform and the bar is running itself. I’m not sure what possessed him to give me the bar manager position, but it’s working well so far. There are times when I think he figures the stage time is an incentive for me to make sure the bar he’s put his heart and soul into is making money.
On top of everything he’s done for me at Black Skye, Aaron introduced me to a local producer who has gotten me some session work. It’s not what I want to be doing, but if the only way I can sing and play the guitar is by becoming a nameless, faceless talent on someone else’s work, I’ll take it. Of course, I didn’t feel that way at first, but as always, Lea quickly became my voice of reason.
“Colby, this is a good thing,” she assures me. God, I wish we were on the computer instead of the phone because I need to see her beautiful face. I can almost feel her carding her fingers through my curls, twisting the ends around her fingers. The slightest touch from her soothes me in a way no one else’s ever has.
“How is this good? It’s not getting me any closer to where I want to be. No one even knows who I am.” I sound like a whiny little diva right now. It’s been a rough week at the club and now I’m being asked to bust my ass for hours on end in the studio without getting anything for it other than what can barely be called a paycheck. It feels as if I’m selling out. “I’ll lose money by doing this.”
“Baby, it’s not going to happen overnight. I know you wish it would, but that’s not how it works for most people. You need to sit back and watch. Learn everything you can from those around you and then show them what you’ve got when it’s time to perform.” She’s right. Lea’s always right. I’m the impatient, impulsive flake and she’s the meticulous planner. It’s part of what makes us work so well together, we balance one another.
“I just—”
“No,” she cuts me off, not allowing me to have a pity party. I’ve never been a fan of them, but spending my time off locked away in my bedroom has made it a key form of entertainment. Aaron says I’m welcome to join his family, but it feels awkward. I don’t know them and they don’t know me. It’s like being the third cousin twice removed at a family reunion that never ends. “It’s going to be hard enough as it is. If you get a shitty attitude, it’s never going to happen. Now, go do whatever you need to do to get out of your funk and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
Several times over the course of the past month, I’ve been tempted to beg Lea to move down here, transfer to one of the colleges in Nashville just so she can with me. The only thing holding me back is that her parents hate me and I highly doubt they would be willing to help pay for her education if she moved out of state for my sake. Given my little issue of scraping to make ends meet for myself, I can’t even offer to help her if they freeze her accounts. Right now, every penny I can squirrel away is going into an account to record a demo because no one’s lining up to back me financially right now. Unless my financial situation changes, I have to rely on technology to make me feel closer to her for the next almost two years.
“Davis, do you have your guitar in back tonight?” Aaron asks, breaking me out of my daydream about my girl. I look up and see a nearly panicked look on his face, which is unusual for the normally laid-back owner. This club is his life. Like me, he had dreams of recording contracts, awards ceremonies and the like, but he gave those up when he met his wife.
Aaron and Rebecca love one another more than just about any couple I’ve ever met. Rebecca was a widow when they met, raising a seven-year-old boy and five year old girl on her own. To hear Aaron tell the story, he fell in love with Rebecca the first time he saw her struggling to keep the kids from fighting in the grocery store. He watched her from a distance and abandoned his own cart so he could help the load her groceries into her car. As if he hadn’t already risked coming across as a creep, he had the balls to invite them to dinner the next night. She thought it was sweet that he wanted to invite the kids along, but wasn’t ready for that, so they wound up meeting at a park instead so the children could play while she got to know him and they never looked back. Having an instant family that he adored made him see that there are more ways to live and breathe music than being on the road three hundred days out of the year. When I first moved here, I thought he was insane to give up on his dreams, but every night I’m away from Lea makes me understand why he made the choice that he did.
“Of course. What’s up?” I ask, ducking out of the walk-in cooler. I like spending time in there, away from everyone, but not if I can’t keep myself moving. Aaron gives me shit because no one can find anything with my constant need to reorganize the shelves, but he understands my driving force. Today’s one of the few times I’m doing something that actually needs to be done, but I could have been through taking inventory long ago if only I was focused on the task.
“Missy Harrington was supposed to be here tonight,” he says, pacing back and forth in the narrow corridor. “But apparently, she had to have her tonsils out this morning, so singing obviously isn’t going to happen. Can you stay late? I know you’re getting ready for Lea’s visit, but I really need you, man.”
Hearing Aaron say that he needs me to perform tonight causes a swell in my chest. It’s the first affirmation I’ve had that all of this is for a good reason. Sure, open mic and session gigs are good, but this is a real show. The Tuesday night crowd isn’t huge, by any means, but it’s something. “Yeah, you going to get up there with me?”
Every time he has let me screw around on stage, I ask the same question. We’ve had fun jammi
ng a few times at the house after the kids are in bed, and I think it’d be good for him to have an outlet every once in a while because I can’t imagine that owning a bar that showcases live music comes anywhere close to being up there, actually doing it. I see a trace of something in his brown eyes. Sadness? Regret? I don’t know what in the hell it is, but I know it’s not peace or happiness, that’s for damn sure. Every time, he gets this restless air about him that pushes me to fight to have the two things that matter most in my life: Lea and music.
“I don’t know, Rebecca needs me to get home and help Devon with his homework while she takes Taylor to some meeting about an activity she wants to do in the spring.” He wants to; I can see it in the way his fingers tap at his sides, the way he reaches up and starts wringing the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ll swing back after the girls get home.”
Setting aside my inventory sheets, I head into the office to grab my guitar. The guys around here give me a hard time, swearing that I even shower with the case propped against the wall. I don’t. I might if I wasn’t smart enough to know that humidity like that is horrible for the spruce body. With that single exception, my guitar goes wherever I go because I never know when the need to work out a new melody will come along.
Nervous energy fills my body as I tune my guitar. I’ve never gotten butterflies this bad, but this is a show that has been advertised. It’s a Tuesday, so it’s not likely going to be a packed house, but these people are here expecting to see Missy, an up and coming singer who is already signed to a label and getting ready to head out on her first headlining tour. What are they going to think when they get some kid from the Midwest who spends almost half of his time wondering if moving here was worth the sacrifice?
I pick up the phone, needing to hear Lea’s voice before I go out there to face the crowd. I need to hear her tell me that she believes in me, that being apart from her is worth it. Fuck, I really am turning into a sissy. When the phone goes straight to voicemail, I stare at my display for a moment, trying to figure out where in the hell she could be.
“Hey babe, it’s me. I guess I’ll have to try you back later tonight. I love you.” I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had to leave messages for Lea. Her last class of the day would have ended hours ago and isn’t working this semester, so I can’t figure out where she might be. But there’s no time to think about that now because I have about five minutes to get myself ready to go on that stage.
“You ready?” Aaron asks as I walk down the narrow hallway lined with empty beer kegs and cases of overstock needing to be checked in. I rub my hands on my jeans, shifting the guitar from left to right, trying to dry my sweaty palms.
Twisting my head from one side and to the other, I crack my neck, trying to release a bit of the tension. Am I ready for tonight? Not by a long shot. This isn’t like playing in one of the dive bars back home, this is fucking Nashville. Even the seediest joints have amazing talent because that’s what is expected in a city of this caliber. And tonight, all eyes are going to be on me.
“Just about,” I lie, briefly wondering if I’m going to have to toss my guitar to him so I can detour to the restroom and puke my brains out. Instead, I head to the bar for a shot of Jack, hoping that it will calm my nerves.
Aaron pats me on the back, turning to look at the steadily growing crowd. “You’ve got this, Colby. If I didn’t think you were good enough, there were at least a dozen other people I could have called. Now, get your ass up there and show them what you’ve got.”
It takes a few songs for me to calm down, but by the time I start playing a Lee Brice cover, I seem to have convinced both myself and the audience that I’ve earned my place up here. I can only see a small portion of the crowd, but they appear to be having a good time, laughing and singing along with me. I’m finally able to take a deep breath between songs, believing Aaron’s parting words to me.
Chapter 2
Lea
As soon as we’re given the all-clear to turn on our phones, I pull mine out of my purse. There is a lone voicemail for me. Listening to the trepidation in Colby’s voice, I feel guilty for not telling him that I would be unavailable for a while this evening. Looking at the time, I know he’s already on the stage.
It hasn’t actually been all that long since I’ve seen him, but this is the longest we’ve gone without being together in all the time we’ve known each other. It’s funny how he had become such a constant in my life that I didn’t even realize we spent almost every day together until that was yanked away from us. Walking through the terminal, I see Aaron waiting for me, a huge smile breaking out on his face the moment our eyes meet. Despite the fact that we’ve never met before, I feel a kinship toward him because of Colby. This whole plan was his idea and I would kiss him if not for the fact that it would be highly inappropriate.
“Lea, you made it!” He wraps his arms around me, catching me off guard with his friendly greeting. I reach down to grab the bag I dropped and he follows me to the baggage carousel. “Did you have a good flight?”
“Slept most of it, but yes, thank you.” I can’t get over how friendly this man is. Apparently, all of Colby’s stories about his kind nature are true.
After retrieving my suitcase, Aaron leads me to his truck, a huge Ford F-250 extended cab. We drive through Nashville and I’m not sure what to think. It’s not the glitz and glamour I was expecting. And the longer we drive, the more “normal” everything seems.
“Do you want to go by the house to freshen up before heading down to the bar?”
As nasty as I feel after jumping on a plane less than two hours after my last class ended, I don’t want to do anything that will keep me from Colby a minute longer than necessary. Even if that means walking into the bar wearing faded jeans and a comfy flannel shirt. It’s Nashville, so I figure I won’t stick out like a sore thumb. “No, thank you,” I say, wringing my hands, hoping that showing up like this doesn’t distract Colby.
Aaron knew yesterday that his act for tonight wasn’t going to be able to play because she had to have surgery. When he contacted me on Facebook, suggesting that I come down early, I began to see that Colby is more than just a boarder or an employee to him. He truly wants to see my boyfriend succeed and wants him to be happy. Knowing that Colby’s family hasn’t been supportive of his dream, it means a great deal to me to know that he has someone who does in his life now.
“Relax, your boy is doing great,” Aaron says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. If he wasn’t good enough to be up there, nothing in the world would have made me ask him. It’s a tough town and it’s not going to be easy for him, but Colby…well, he’s got something real special.”
Aaron might just be a bar owner, but hearing his praise fills me with pride. And hope. “Thank you,” I say quietly, choking on my emotions. It’s not the most eloquent response, but there’s a lump in my throat keeping me from saying anything else. Until just now, it didn’t fully hit me that Colby might have a shot at getting somewhere with his music. It’s one thing to be the doting girlfriend and tell him he’s amazing, but Aaron is surrounded by the heartbeat of the music scene and he thinks Colby has what it takes. It proves to me that I’m not blowing sunshine up his ass and setting Colby up for a colossal fall.
We pull into the back parking lot and I follow Aaron to a steel door that I assume is the rear entrance of the club. “Is there any way I could watch him without him seeing me?” I ask, suddenly questioning whether or not this was a good idea. And I’m just as worried about not being able to keep from running up on stage the moment I see him as I am him fumbling when he sees me.
“Yeah, we’ll get you all set up. A couple of my buddies are here tonight and they know what’s going on. I figured you could sit with them and I’ll bring Colby over when he takes a break to introduce him to them.” I can’t believe how much thought Aaron has put into this entire scheme. I stare at him, trying to figure out how we lucked out to have t
his man come into our lives. He seems to be exactly what Colby needs, a perfect combination of mentor and friend.
With every step I take down the dark hallway, Colby’s velvet voice grows louder. Tears form in the corner of my eyes when I hear him playing one of my favorite songs, a cover of “I Won’t Give Up” by Jason Mraz. He’s made subtle changes to the song to give it that bit of that twang that used to annoy me. He doesn’t know it but listening to him practice behind his closed bedroom door for so long turned me into a closet country music fan. Aaron swings the door open just enough for both of us to slide through and motions for me to stay close to the wall, keeping myself obscured by the shadows. “Pete, Cameron, this is Lea,” Aaron says, pointing to the two men sitting at a square table near the bar. “Keep an eye on her; make sure none of these assholes try anything.”
I faintly hear his warning to his friends, mesmerized by what I see on stage. Colby, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a tight t-shirt, the heel of one cowboy boot hooked over the bottom rung of his bar stool. There’s a look of peace on his face that I’m not used to seeing. He’s never been uptight, but watching him now, he owns that stage. Whatever self-doubt was running through his mind when he tried calling me earlier has vanished as he commands the audience to sing along.
“You folks haven’t heard this one before, but I’m going to take a chance that you’ll like it,” he says into the mic, strumming chords quietly as he speaks. “I wrote this for my girl back home. She’s pretty amazing and I can’t wait to see her when she gets down here Thursday afternoon.”
Pete and Cameron both look at me with smiles on their faces. Tears blur my vision as I sit in my chair with a hand over my mouth. The bigger one, I think he’s the one Aaron introduced as Cameron, hands me a napkin. I smile in thanks, unable to speak as Colby plays the opening chords of the song he recorded for me the day before he left and dampness coats my cheeks. The other man reaches over, running a hand gently down my back. I flinch at his touch, but one look at his face tells me that he’s not making a pass at me. That’s oddly comforting.
Dare to Dream (Truth or Dare #2) Page 1