Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1

by Charli B. Rose

  “You’ll see.” I winked at her and walked to the piano where her dad waited.

  “I think I’m gonna puke,” he said as soon as he saw us.

  I rested my hands on his shoulders and prepared to give him a pep talk. “You’re not going to puke. Just like we rehearsed this afternoon. No one’s here but your beautiful wife who you’ve spent over half your life loving. Got it?”

  He nodded at me. Brooks opened my guitar case and strapped on my trusty guitar. That thing had traveled many hard roads with me. He quietly strummed, checking the tuning one more time, while I settled on the piano bench.

  Andrew breathed into the microphone right by the piano. The DJ killed the music.

  “Thank you all for coming tonight to help Sue and me celebrate another year of wedded bliss,” Andrew said to the crowd, which was now focused on him. “I wanted to do something special for my wife of thirty years. And thankfully, when I called Dawson to ask, he was totally on board. I have to confess, I can’t carry a tune. But I’m hoping love makes me sound like an angel.”

  “Or a rock star,” I chimed in behind him, causing a chuckle to ripple through the room.

  “Anyway, I’m gonna try to sing this song with a little help from my friends,” he said with a nervous laugh.

  I played the chorus of the classic Beatles’ song for effect.

  ♪ Little Help from my Friends by the Beatles

  “Susan, can you come up here, please,” he asked.

  As she made her way to the stage area, Andrew grabbed a chair and set it front and center. He kissed her cheek, then stepped away. “Only for you would I ever dream of making a fool of myself like this.”

  She smiled at him like he was her everything, and I knew he was. Over the years, Izzy’s parents had been my example of what real love looked like.

  My fingers started to play the melody. Brooks joined in after a few bars. As the first words left my mouth, my gaze collided with Izzy’s.

  Tears glistened and gathered until they spilled over and created shimmery trails over her beautiful face while I sang the words to the Beach Boys’ song “Forever” to her, and Andrew sang it to Susan. Only when the notes faded did I bother to look over at Susan. Her expression matched Izzy’s.

  ♪ Forever by the Beach Boys

  Andrew turned to me. “Dawson, Brooks, thank you for your help. I think it’s a night she won’t forget.”

  “Definitely not,” she said with a chuckle as she wiped her eyes. “Thank you, boys, for helping my love pull off the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “It was our pleasure.” Addressing the room full of people, I said, “Growing up, I spent a lot of time with the Clarks. They’ve always served as a prime example of how love was supposed to be. All-consuming yet completely unselfish. They have a love we should all aspire to find. This next song is for them. Word has it that this was their song.”

  Closing my eyes, I started to play and sing “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” by Starship. The vow of love within the lyrics was empowering and stoked hope deep within my heart. When I pressed the last chord, Brooks unstrapped my guitar and handed it over.

  ♪ Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now by Starship

  “I’ve got one more song to play, then I’ll turn it back over to my man with all the tunes. This song speaks of love that lasts through the years. Through good times and bad. I’m dedicating it not just to Andrew and Susan, and their parents—each celebrating over fifty years together—but also to all the other loves represented in this room. Loves realized and flourishing. Loves floundering. Loves not yet begun.” My fingers strummed as I spoke.

  I sang with my whole heart to my love, who may not ever love me back again. “Thinking Out Loud” was a ballad to love standing the test of time. I prayed it was true for me.

  ♪ Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran

  As the notes dissipated, I stood only to be stopped by Brooks who had Izzy’s nana by his side. “We have a request.”

  Squeezing my cheek, Nana said, “That music man over there doesn’t have the song me and George want to dance to. Can you play it for us?”

  Helpless to refuse this sweet old lady who I loved, I asked, “What song?”

  “It’s an old song by Johnny Rivers. ‘Mountain of Love’,” she explained.

  “Find it on your phone, dude, so I can refresh myself on the melody,” I told Brooks.

  “Give me just a minute, folks, and I’ll play something special for Nana and Papa,” I spoke to the crowd.

  She patted my cheek then moved offstage with the agility of a woman half her age.

  Plugging in earbuds, I scrolled through a couple of versions of the song. It didn’t take long to cement the tune in my mind. Izzy appeared with her tablet and the lyrics on the screen, ever my lifesaver. “Thanks.”

  Settling it in the rack on the piano, I took my place again. “We’re gonna wing this a bit, guys. And Brooks and I are going to play it like Bruce Springsteen did. So, Nana, I hope you’ve got your quick shoes on.”

  “Don’t you worry about me, young man. I’ve got new knees and new hips. You just play me a song,” she retorted.

  Laughter filled the room at her declaration.

  When they settled down, I spoke into the mic, “This song really needs percussion to do it justice, but we didn’t bring the band. So, you guys are gonna be our drummers. Just clap your hands to this beat. One-two-three-four.”

  I demonstrated and kept clapping until the group had the correct rhythm. Then I started banging on the keys and belting out the lyrics to the up-tempo tune.

  ♪ Mountain of Love by Johnny Rivers

  I was able to watch Nana and Papa dance like their bodies were the ages of their hearts. There were no slow steps or awkward spins. When the song should’ve wound down, Nana motioned for me to keep going for one more round. With a laugh, I kept going. It had been a long time since I’d seen the direct effect creating music had on people. It warmed my heart.

  “Wow, Nana and Papa sure know how to cut a rug. I hope I’m that nimble when I’m their age,” I said when the song ended.

  “Bite your tongue, young man. We’re still young,” Nana scolded.

  “I stand corrected. I wish I had their agility now,” I teased.

  Nana nodded at me as they shuffled back to their table.

  “Well, that’s it for me folks. I’m gonna turn—”

  “Not quite,” Susan interrupted me. “Since this is my party, I was hoping I could make a request.”

  “Anything for the lady of the hour,” I agreed with a smile.

  “Izzy, where are you?” Her mom peered out into the crowd until the guests parted, revealing Izzy. “There you are. Come up here, sweetheart.”

  Izzy made her way to the foot of the stage. “Mom, what are you doing,” she hissed through her teeth.

  Her mom wrung her hands as she started to speak, “I know it’s probably a lot to ask, and it’s been a long time since you guys have done this. But it would make this old heart happy to listen to the two—”

  “Mom, no. I haven’t sung in forever,” Izzy immediately said, shooting the idea down before it was fully voiced.

  “I’m sure you remember the words, and your voice has always been so pretty. Please? That song you two used to always do about being there for each other. It can be our anniversary gift.”

  “I already have your anniversary gift. I’ll give it to you now,” Izzy argued.

  “Sing for me first. Pretty please,” her mom pleaded.

  With a sigh, Izzy finally said, “Fine. But only because it’s your anniversary. Consider this your birthday and Mother’s Day present too.”

  Her mom clapped her hands and jumped up and down with glee. Brooks brought up a second chair and angled it towards the chair already on stage. Then he settled the mic stand between them. I gestured for Izzy to take a seat as I pulled my guitar out of my case where Brooks had placed it. My fingers brushed the laminated drawing inside for luck. I’d used that dr
awing like a talisman every day since she’d sent me the sketch of our first kiss.

  Taking my seat, I inhaled deeply, gathering the strength to sing the song that meant more to me than any song in the world. It was one I didn’t write, but it was the one that inspired the first note of song within my heart. “Ready?”

  She nodded and sucked air in her lungs. Though I hadn’t played the song in a couple of years, muscle memory kicked in and the opening notes of The Calling’s “Wherever You Will Go” filled the room. Singing with Izzy again was heaven and hell all wrapped up in one. Heaven because we fell into that easy cadence only couples who really knew each other could pull off. And hell because we weren’t a couple who knew each other anymore.

  ♪ Wherever You Will Go by the Calling

  Izzy rushed off the stage as soon as the song ended, before the applause even started. “Thanks, you guys,” I muttered into the mic and packed up my guitar.

  Somehow, I was able to sneak out and stash my guitar in the car. While I was out there, my phone buzzed in my pocket with a new text.

  Rayne: New envelope came today. Didn’t open it.

  Me: Thanks. Go ahead and open it and screenshot it.

  Moments later, a photo loaded into the conversation.

  Dear Universe,

  I don't think he's getting the message. The one he speaks of doesn't sound like me. But it's supposed to be me.

  Love,

  Me.

  Me: Seems she’s agitated. Make sure you don’t lose the puzzle pieces.

  Rayne: No problem. See you when you get back.

  Damn it. What was I going to do about my stalker? My fingers ran through my hair. Leaning against the trunk, I gazed up at the stars. My eyes scanned the darkness until I found the three in a line I was looking for. I rubbed the space over my heart and sent up a silent prayer, then returned to the party.

  Apparently, while I was outside, Izzy had unveiled her gift. The portrait was beautiful. On the canvas, Izzy had captured the love her parents had for each other.

  I scanned the crowd looking for her. There she was, on the dance floor in Beckett’s arms. Her arms rested casually around his neck and his were around her waist. My heart ached watching her in someone else’s arms. But maybe she was in the right person’s arms.

  While I stared, Beckett led Izzy in my direction. I forced a smile to my face. “Here, Dawson. You take a spin and rescue her feet, please. And by the way, you and Isabelle sounded amazing together. I’ve never heard her sing before.”

  “Thanks, man. I’d love another dance with Izzy,” I admitted, my eyes lighting up at the pleased smile on her face.

  Taking her hand in mine, we moved back among the dancers. I pressed our joined hands over my heart. Her touch eased the ache inside. With my other hand around her waist, I drew her closer to me. My heart thudded beneath her palm. This might be the last time I ever held her in my arms like this. It probably should be the last time. For her sake. Closing my eyes, I let the notes wash over me and fill my heart. I crooned the words in her ear.

  She swallowed hard, and her breath hitched. “I’m surprised you know this song”

  ♪ Perfect by Ed Sheeran

  “I make it a point to learn songs that describe my feelings perfectly. Besides, Ed’s a great guy.”

  We didn’t talk any more. Just allowed ourselves to get lost in the moment. All too soon, the moment was over.

  Chapter 5

  Izzy

  "Have you taken your motion sickness pill yet?" Beckett asked as we headed away from my parents’ home the day after their party.

  "No. I forgot to grab a bottle of water when we left. I was going to ask you to stop once we get a little bit down the road. Why?"

  "Good. I was hoping we could talk," he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

  I swallowed hard. Worry coursed through my veins. No good conversation ever followed those words. "OK."

  "This weekend opened my eyes to a few things." He looked over at me.

  Oh, crap. I must have stared at Dawson too much. Maybe Beckett noticed the sexual tension between us.

  When I didn't answer, he continued, "Isabelle, I've known you for almost two years. We've been going out officially for about six months, casually even longer. I thought I knew and understood you."

  "You do know me. You know things and have seen things no one else ever has." My fingers automatically rubbed the area over my scar.

  "I know Isabelle. This weekend I caught a glimpse of Izzy. And I'm concerned that I've never seen any hint of her before," he sounded exasperated.

  "Well, we haven't really gone to many parties or situations like this weekend," I said defensively.

  "It's not just that. There are so many things about you I didn't know. Never had an inkling of." Hurt tinged his tone.

  "Like what?"

  "Well for starters, you used to dye your hair these funky, wild, chaotic colors," he announced in disbelief.

  "It's just hair. Once I didn't have it anymore, it seemed pointless to invest so much time in it," I reasoned as I wrapped a lock of my naturally colored hair around my finger.

  "And you used to listen to all genres of music, not just country," he said, ticking off another of his observations.

  "People's taste change as they grow up. Country music is full of stories. They're a nice distraction from life." And there were very few country songs tangled up with Dawson memories.

  "And you used to read romance novels all the time." He turned left at the end of the road.

  "I was delusional about life. I thought happily ever afters existed. Then I nearly died. Put things into a new perspective." I dragged my fingernails up and down the denim covering my thighs, creating a light grating noise.

  "And you watch trashy, daytime TV."

  "You take that back. Elle is not trashy. I can't help it. I love how she gets to the heart of matters without resorting to sleazy ambush tricks," I defended my viewing choices.

  He chuckled and smirked at me. "And don't even get me started on your love of dancing. Holy hell, I had no idea you could not only move like that, but that you enjoyed it so much."

  "Oh, I see. You want me to dance for you when we get home? Maybe do a strip tease?" I tried to lighten the mood.

  Heat flared in his eyes as he looked over at me, then turned back to the road. "Damn, that would be hot. But quit trying to distract me with sex. It wasn't just about how sexy you looked out there on the floor dancing with your friends. It was about how dancing changed something in you. I never really noticed before because I didn't have a proper frame of reference. But you're incredibly reserved. You keep everything on a tight leash. On the dance floor, you looked happy in a way I've never seen before. Euphoric. Free."

  "I was just having fun. And I tried to get you to dance more," I said.

  And oh, my goodness, it was incredible slow dancing with Dawson. I’d gone back to my parents’ house so turned on after grinding with him on the dance floor after Beckett begged off fast dancing with me. Thankfully, I was able to take care of things in the shower before I fell asleep. I’d never be able to listen to “I’m the One” by DJ Khaled without my blood racing again.

  ♪ I’m the One by DJ Khaled

  I felt awful. Beckett was so trusting. Hell, he encouraged me to get on the dance floor with Dawson for the bump and grind fest that was going on. He had no idea the conflicting thoughts filling my head and heart. I was a terrible person. The weight of his gaze pressed on me before he concentrated on changing lanes.

  Once we were safely across three lanes of traffic, he continued, "I’m not worried about being left out. My point is you were having fun. So much fun. You haven't let yourself have fun for as long as I've known you."

  "I'm pretty sure, realigning your priorities is normal when you have a near death experience." I stared out the window at the convenience store parking lot he'd just pulled into.

  Shifting in his seat, he turned to face me and plucked my hand from where it fidgete
d in my lap. "It is. But I'm worried that this person you've let yourself retreat into is more than a simple realigning. You eliminated anything from your life that was... chaotic. Crazy hair. Loud, upbeat music. Emotion filled books. Dancing and partying. Having fun. Even your art shifted from vibrant, happy pieces to pale, melancholy ones. It troubles me that in your need to cling to control, you seem to have lost yourself. And I never even realized it because this—" He waved his hand at me. "—is the only version of you I've ever seen."

  ♪ Living Not Alive by the Veer Union

  "I'm sorry. I wasn’t trying to keep part of myself from you or anything. I'd never intentionally hurt you. When I met you, I was at a really low point. I was scared and sad and so many other negative things. I kind of lost bits of myself along the way. And now this is who I am." This version of me was safe, stable.

  His free hand cupped my jaw and stroked my cheek tenderly. "I think you need to take some time and try to pick up those bits of yourself. I care so much about you. I want to build a future with you. That’s why I wanted you to move to Georgia and get a place with me. But I'm not sure you're ready to move just yet. I want to make sure when you move in with me, you bring all the vital parts of yourself along. I don't want to see you as a shell of yourself. Don't get me wrong, I really like this serious version of you, with blonde hair neatly in a bun. The girl who takes studio photographs, who reads mysteries and scientific articles, who’d rather curl up with me on the couch and watch a movie than go to some loud club where we can't even talk. But I also think there are parts of you that you'd be happier if you embraced again. There's a counselor I've sent some of the other research trial patients to who I think could help you." His eyes searched mine, the affection pouring out of him, wrapping me in a blanket.