The High Note

by Harmony Jones

  When it was over Lark held her breath.

  Max looked up from the phone screen and stared at her for such a long moment that she began to squirm in her flowery Dr. Martens.

  “This is incredible,” he said at last. “The song, the camerawork … You’re brilliant!”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really! It makes our new video look like trash, to be honest.”

  “Does it?”

  “It does. You know I wouldn’t lie to you about something this important. Don’t you like it?”

  “I don’t know,” Lark admitted. “I haven’t seen it yet.”

  Max looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Well then get over here right this minute,” he commanded.

  Reluctantly, Lark went to stand behind the armchair as Max hit the Play arrow a second time. Watching over his shoulder, she felt herself blushing whenever her face appeared on the screen. But with every new verse, her nerves relaxed a bit. Max wasn’t exaggerating; the video really was terrific. Mimi had truly outdone herself. And so, for that matter, had Lark—if she did say so herself.

  “It’s not bad, is it?” she said modestly.

  “It’s ace.”

  “And it’s a secret,” Lark reminded him. “So please don’t tell my mom. Not yet anyway. Maybe not ever.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that Mimi and I have a deal. Please Max, don’t tell anyone. Not even Ollie and Teddy.”

  “All right, then. I did promise.” He handed her back her phone, then kissed her on the cheek in a brotherly way. “You’re a talented girl, Lark Campbell. I’m proud of you.”

  Then Donna’s voice came up from the kitchen: “Lark! Time to go pick up Teddy.”

  Lark gave Max a grateful squeeze, then in a jangle of chunky necklaces, she hurried down the stairs.

  Teddy was waiting on his front porch when Donna’s car pulled up. He was wearing a vintage Springsteen T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of dusty-gray chukkas, and as far as Lark was concerned, he looked perfect.

  “Hi,” he said, sliding into the backseat. “Thanks for picking me up, Mrs. Campbell.”

  “You’re very welcome, Teddy.” Donna smiled at him in the rearview mirror. “Just try not to scream too loud during the encores. We don’t want you damaging those vocal cords.”

  In the front seat, Lark rolled her eyes, turned the car radio on low, and changed the subject. “Mom, where are the tickets and the backstage passes?”

  “In my purse,” said Donna, motioning to the giant designer tote, which most people would consider an overnight bag but for Lark’s mother served as an everyday accessory.

  Lark fished around until she found them. The tickets were ordinary enough, but the backstage passes were laminated cards, each on its own lanyard. Lark handed one to Teddy. They exchanged excited smiles.

  “This is my first real concert,” Teddy confessed. “Well, unless you count the time I saw the Squirmies when I was five. My kindergarten class went to see them for a field trip.”

  “I remember the Squirmies!” said Lark.

  “Hey, maybe Abbey Road should do a cover of one of their hits,” Teddy teased.

  “You totally should,” Lark agreed, grinning. “After all, ‘My Hippo Has the Hiccups’ is a classic.”

  “True,” said Teddy. “But I’m partial to ‘The Bubblegum Boogie,’ myself. Talk about a great dance track.”

  Lark laughed.

  “You know,” said Donna. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “Mom!” said Lark. “You can’t seriously want the band to remake a kiddie song!”

  “Of course not,” said Donna. “But I do think covering an actual pop classic could be very lucrative. Lots of new bands remake older hits. Getting the rights can be pricey, but it might be worth it. In fact, I think we should start investigating—”

  She was stopped by the sound of a familiar voice filling the SUV. Ollie’s voice!

  It took only a split second for Lark to realize what she was hearing. Abbey Road’s single, “Wounded Pride,” was playing on the radio. It wasn’t the first time they’d heard the song on the radio, not by a long shot. But that didn’t make it any less cool. Feeling giddy, she reached for the radio button and pressed it until it was blasting at full volume.

  Remember when you stood right by my side?

  You liked my clothes, you dug my ride

  You said you’d be true, but girl, you lied

  Now all I’ve got is wounded pride.

  When Lark turned to glance at Teddy he looked happier than he’d been in days; her heart soared.

  They pulled into the parking lot just as the song finished. Donna drove them right up to the door of the concert venue.

  “Your father will send someone to escort you to his dressing room after the show. You’ll be meeting at the auditorium’s south exit, but you’ll need to have your badges visible or you won’t be admitted backstage. So put them on now.”

  Lark frowned, but dutifully placed the nylon rope around her neck. She suspected Mimi would have a problem with this particular wardrobe choice—lamination was hardly stylish and the lanyard totally clashed with her necklaces.

  “Have fun,” said Donna as they got out of the car. “Oh, Lark … wait one second.” She reached into the glove box and pulled out a brand-new baseball cap emblazoned with the distinctive Lotus Records logo. “It’s for your father.”

  Lark felt a warm tingle in her belly. “A gift? From you to Daddy? That’s so sweet.”

  “It’s good business,” Donna clarified. “On tour, Jackson’s surrounded by music-industry types, so why not let him do a little advertising on my behalf?”

  “Right,” said Lark, her warm tingle changing to a pang of disappointment. “I should have known. Business.”

  Donna waved and drove off, and Lark shoved the brim of the cap into her back pocket. It created an unsightly bulge under her cardigan, another fashion faux pas of which Mimi would have vigorously disapproved.

  Inside the arena, Lark and Teddy milled through the crowd to one of the many concession stands.

  “What would you like?” Teddy asked as they took their place in line. “My treat.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” said Lark.

  “I want to do it,” Teddy insisted. “So, what’ll you have?”

  Lark peered over the heads of the people in front of them and considered the large, lighted menu mounted above the snack bar. “Popcorn, I guess.”

  “Great,” said Teddy. “I’ll get the supersize one and we can share. Anything to drink?”

  “Cherry Coke, please.”

  As they waited to take their turn at the counter, Lark was aware that several people were eyeing her backstage pass enviously.

  In front of them, three teenage girls were ordering candy bars, double-cheese nachos, caramel corn, and diet sodas. Lark and Teddy exchanged an ironic look and laughed.

  Then a girl’s voice from behind called something out to them that made Lark’s stomach drop to the toes of her flowered boots: “Hey! I recognize you!” she said. “You’re in that video!”

  Lark’s heart thudded. Was this really happening? Did the girl mean “Homesick,” or was she referring to the “Everything’s Working Out” video that Mimi had posted yesterday? In either case, “Songbird” was being picked out of a crowd! What should she say? How should she act? There was no way of knowing from the tone of the question whether this person liked the video or hated it.

  “It is you, isn’t it?” the girl persisted.

  There was no point in avoiding it, so Lark took a deep breath and whirled to face her accuser—a pretty teenager with dark braids and a flannel shirt.

  “Um …,” Lark began. “As a matter of fact, it is—”

  “The keyboard player!” the girl cried, jumping up and down in her hot-pink cowboy boots. “It is you!”

  Only then did it occur to Lark that she wasn’t the only person in line who happened to be in a
music video at the moment.

  “You’re part of that new British boy band,” the girl gushed, shouldering a man in a leather vest to position herself beside Teddy. “Abbey Road, right? OMG, you guys are amazing. And you’re even cuter in person!”

  Teddy’s cheeks were as pink as the girl’s boots. Suddenly, everyone around them was whispering and pointing. Cell phones were being pulled out of purses and pockets as the concession-stand crowd eagerly searched for the video in question.

  “Can I get a picture?” the girl asked, though it was clear she had no intention of waiting for an answer. She was already snuggling against Teddy and aiming her phone at them from an upward angle. “Smile, gorgeous!” she commanded.

  Teddy smiled.

  The girl snapped a selfie, checked the screen, then snapped another.

  “Will you sign my program?” she asked.

  Flustered, Teddy borrowed a pen from the snack-bar cashier and quickly scrawled his name across the front of the concert program the pretty girl had thrust at him.

  “Thanks,” she said, and jostled her way back to her original place in line.

  “Next!” cried the counter clerk.

  The eyes of the crowd continued to rake curiously over Teddy and Lark. The attention actually made Lark’s skin itch. Teddy did his best to ignore the whispers and flashing cameras as he ordered the supersize popcorn and two sodas and they quickly made their escape.

  “I can’t believe I got recognized!” said Teddy, his expression a mix of shock and pride. “I mean, who expects to get noticed in a crowd this big?”

  “Yeah, who would ever expect that?” Lark muttered, mortified. Me, that’s who. She couldn’t believe she’d been self-centered enough to think that the celeb-spotting had been directed at her.

  “It was actually pretty cool,” Teddy confessed. “But I hope it doesn’t happen again tonight.” He gave her a sweet smile. “I kind of wanted this d—” He stopped short and corrected himself. “This night to be just about us.”

  And back to the warm tingle! Lark thought her heart might actually burst. She was certain he had been about to say “date,” and had only changed his mind because he didn’t want to embarrass her by assuming they were more than friends.

  They entered the arena and made their way to their seats, which were basically the best in the house. Thanks, Dad! thought Lark. She noticed a girl and her mother were pointing at Teddy and whispering.

  “Here,” said Lark, tugging the Lotus baseball cap out of her pocket and handing it to Teddy. “Put this on.”

  “Good idea.” Teddy took the hat and pulled it down low over his forehead. “Check me out,” he joked. “I’m incognito. Well, sort of, anyway. Let’s just hope the lights go down soon.”

  “You should probably get used it,” said Lark, serious now. “Once the album’s released you’re going to get even more attention.”

  They settled into their seats and Teddy placed the gigantic popcorn tub between them. Lark, who had spent so much time agonizing over her outfit that she’d forgotten to eat dinner, was starving. She reached for a handful of popcorn.

  So did Teddy.

  At the exact same moment.

  Their fingertips touched, amid the warm kernels. It was all Lark could do to keep from jerking her hand out of the bucket in a panic. But to her surprise, Teddy let his fingers linger against hers

  So she did the same.

  We’re almost holding hands, she thought, and in her mind, it sounded like the lyric to a song.

  Then the lights dimmed and the crowd went wild.

  The thrill was contagious. Lark and Teddy abandoned their handfuls of popcorn to join in with the cheering fans.

  The concert was amazing. The Hatfields’ showmanship was exceeded only by their musical talent. Lark’s favorite point in the show was when the lead guitarist waved her father up to the front of the stage to jam with him. The entire arena exploded in applause for Jackson. Lark stood on her chair and shouted, “Go, Daddy! You rock,” at the top of her lungs.

  Two and a half hours and three encores later, the band finally called it a night. Lark’s voice was hoarse from cheering and singing along with the songs, all of which she knew by heart. Teddy had kept the yelling to a minimum as per Donna’s instructions, but seemed to enjoy the show every bit as much as Lark did.

  As they bumped and shuffled along with the stream of fans toward the south exit, Teddy turned to Lark with a guilty expression. “I used to think country music was only for cowboys and hillbillies. Barefoot guys strumming on a washboard, singing about the flat tire on their pickup truck, or their favorite hunting dog who ran away. I guess that was pretty narrow-minded of me, huh?”

  “Yup,” said Lark, grinning. “But you don’t have to look so ashamed about it. Lots of people have silly ideas of what they think country music is.” She shrugged. “Do you have a different opinion now?”

  Teddy nodded. “Tonight’s show made a believer out of me. Those Hatfields guys can really play!”

  “And the lyrics weren’t all about moonshine and coal mining,” Lark teased.

  “What’s your favorite thing about country music?” Teddy asked as they passed a vendor selling T-shirts, marked down to half what they cost before the concert.

  “Other than the fact that it reminds me of home?” Surprisingly, no one had ever asked her that question before. She took a minute to think about it, going over all her favorite songs in her mind … the power of the words, the swell of the chords, the way a good song could get your toes tapping without you even realizing you were doing it …

  “It’s the simplicity that I really love,” she said at last. “Country music is uncomplicated. It’s real. And I love that the lyrics tell stories. Simple stories, with honesty and emotion. You can’t help making a connection. It’s just so … welcoming.”

  Teddy let the explanation sink in, then smiled. “I think it’s cool that you can write in both styles—country and pop. I guess you’re what’s called a crossover artist.”

  “I’m just a girl with a guitar,” Lark said with a shrug.

  By the time they reached the south exit, the crowd had thinned considerably. A young man in a windbreaker with “Crew” printed on the back was waiting. He waved as they approached. “Lark Campbell?”

  “That’s me.”

  The crew member checked their passes and nodded. “I’m Clint,” he said. “Right this way, please.”

  They followed Clint through a maze of concrete corridors until they reached the dressing-room area. The place was mobbed with other fans lucky enough to be wearing backstage passes. Music was playing, glasses were being raised, and photos were being snapped.

  And there he was!

  “Daddy!” Lark cried.

  Jackson Campbell—who was chatting with a very pretty backup singer—turned in the direction of Lark’s voice and his face lit up with joy. “There’s my darling,” he said.

  The next thing Lark knew, the crowd was parting for her and she was running toward her father, flinging herself into his arms.

  “You were amazing, Daddy!” she whispered into the scruff of his beard. “Real fine!”

  “Well, thank you, Songbird,” Jackson said, squeezing her tight. “I tried.”

  “But this beard has got to go!”

  “We’ll talk about that later,” said Jackson, holding her at arm’s length and studying her. “Now, let me look at you.” He frowned. “Girl, what on God’s green earth are you wearing on your feet?”

  “Doc Martens,” Lark explained sheepishly. “They’re from London.”

  Jackson shook his head and clucked his tongue, pretending to be affronted. Then he hugged her again and they laughed. Out of the corner of her eye, Lark saw the pretty singer quietly take her leave.

  Good, thought Lark.

  Teddy joined them and held out his hand for Jackson to shake. “Hi, Mr. Campbell. I’m Teddy.”

  “Nice to meet you, son,” Jackson said, sliding a look at Lark. “I
remember you from the talent show. You and my Songbird were a big hit.”

  “He’s the keyboard player for Abbey Road now,” said Lark.

  “Did somebody say ‘keyboard player’?” came a jovial voice from the doorway of a nearby dressing room.

  Lark turned to see a lanky man with long blond curls.

  “This here is Garret Givens,” said Jackson, smiling at the man who was now swaggering toward them. “He thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow.”

  “That ain’t so,” Garret countered in a heavy Southern accent. “It comes up to hear me play the piano!”

  “Give, this is my little girl,” said Jackson, clapping Garret on the back. “I think I may have mentioned her once or twice.”

  “Mentioned her?” Garret Givens let out a bark of hearty laughter and smiled at Lark. “Heck, darlin’, you’re just about the only thing your daddy ever talks about. He’s awful proud of you.”

  “I’m proud of him, too,” said Lark.

  “Boys! C’mon over here and meet Jackson’s daughter.”

  The next thing Lark knew, all six members of the Hatfields were gathered around her, shaking her hand and giving her bear hugs. It was similar to being greeted by Ollie and Max, only with a lot more facial hair!

  “When are you going to start touring like your daddy?” asked the drummer, who was the youngest Hatfield, and so ruggedly handsome that Lark found herself too tongue-tied to respond.

  “Not until after she graduates from college,” Jackson answered for her. “No show business for Lark until after she gets an education. And maybe not even then.”

  Tell that to Mimi, thought Lark.

  When the introductions were over, the band members made their way over to a large table piled high with food: chicken wings, barbecued ribs, fried chicken, and chili.

  Garret said to Lark, “Now then, what were you saying about a keyboard player?”

  “I was saying that my friend Teddy plays in a band my mom’s record label just signed.” Lark motioned to Teddy. “He’s super talented.”

  “Is he, now?” said Garret. He pointed to an electric keyboard across the room. “Why don’t y’all come see if you can help me out with a new song I’ve been working on. It’s about splitting up with my missus, because nothing sells like a country song about heartbreak!”