by Jenni Moen
“He’s damn good. Why didn’t you tell me about him?”
Her eye’s gleamed with orneriness. “Because I wanted you to discover him for yourself. Just wait there’s a hell of a lot more there to see.”
Song after song played and I still hadn’t seen more than a glimpse of Deacon through his shroud of darkness. But the sounds that came from his guitar kept me entranced. I’d stopped listening to the song as a whole and could only feel the vibration of his plucked guitar strings dart through my core. They felt so familiar, like I’d never listened to anyone other than him play.
“We are Unforgiven and we hope we rocked you as hard as you rocked us tonight. If not be sure and let us know so we can tell you to go fuck yourself.” Duke shouted and the crowd cheered. “Ladies don’t forget the line for the backstage freaky train forms to your left by the big bald security guard. As always last song of the night goes to our fearless founder and leader, Deacon.”
I expected the crowd to go wild with more sexual favor declarations coming from the half-naked Barbies all around me, but there was only complete silence. Duke dropped the mic with a shrill shriek and the entire room immediately went black.
A dim light slowly beamed down from the back of the stage illuminating someone sitting on a bar stool with a black hoodie pulled over their head. The light was behind him making him appear as a dark, menacing figure. There was a microphone in front of him waiting to be used and a large guitar resting on his leg. Willow pulled on my arm and moved closer.
“That’s Deacon.” She said softly into my ear. “This is their end of the show tradition - same song at the end of every show.”
She pointed back toward the stage and I turned just as a bright spotlight illuminated the front of his guitar. I gasped. It was my guitar, my dad’s guitar. I knew every single inch of that guitar and this was identical, even down to the bright blue details. I felt my heart fall to the ground and shatter into a million jagged pieces. He was another one, another guitar player obsessed with my dad. I found them everywhere, or more accurately they found me. I think some of them had a tracking device attached to my ass with how quickly they could locate me. I’d spent my life fighting off wannabe Kirk Savages, which never made sense to me. I’m his daughter so their path to becoming my rock God dad should not have them vying to be in my pants.
I heard the sound of Deacon slowly inhale and then let out a steady stream of air. It didn’t sound like nervousness, more like a prayer for strength. He lightly strummed his guitar and the sound filled my senses. He played a slow, light melody that had tears burning my eyes.
His fingers moved over the smooth strings creating one of the most genuine sounds I’d ever heard. Every movement of his hand was filled with the desires of his heart. I’d been around enough musicians to know that was the only way a mere human could make such a melody. I knew in that moment that our hearts beat to the same rhythm, I could feel it – every inch of me could feel it as chills pricked at my skin and spread like wildfire.
His voice rang through the calm bar and every eye was turned, hanging on his every word. His voice was light and rough, his words ran together and were barely clear enough to understand.
Take her now, you need her more than I
She hasn’t ever truly been mine
Strike your claim, it’s been too long
I’ve been fighting, but you’ve won
There’s no way, don’t hide your eyes
Unused, unwanted, unclaimed
If his face wasn’t covered by the darkness I knew I would see every emotion connected to his words. Some of my earliest memories were of me sitting cross-legged in the middle of my dad’s studio intently watching the faces of musicians as they poured their heart and soul into their gift. My dad used to say if the fans didn’t feel like they’d lived an entire lifetime in his shoes after he performed, then he needed to find another job. “Maybe an accountant,” he’d joke, “they don’t need emotions.”
Music had always been the driving force behind my life. It soothed my fears when I was overcome and guided the way when I was lost. I looked to music like a religious man looks to his God – and it had yet to let me down. Music was easy, life was hard. Each haunting syllable that Deacon released crawled deep into my soul.
“Holy shit, are you crying?” Willow shrieked from beside me and then laughed.
I touched my cheeks and felt wetness. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. I wiped it away before turning to look at her.
“No, I wasn’t crying. Are you crazy?”
“Bullshit Elizabeth, you were freaking cryin’ and don’t try to deny it.” She pointed her finger in my face and shook her head at me.
“Whatever, c’mon.” I said looping our arms together and heading toward backstage. “Do you or do you not want to meet Duke?”
“Damn right I’m gonna meet him. Gotta meet him before I can make him put a ring on it.” She said with a laugh.
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December 30, 2013