Following Me

by K. A. Linde

  Leaning into her, he whispered, “Just wait.”

  A spotlight hit center stage a minute later, and the opening chords of a song strummed through the speakers. Then, the woman launched into her song, and the cheers followed. Brennan released her hand, and Devon tried not to fidget.

  As the woman held the last high note, ending beautifully, the crowd grew even louder. Then, another person took her place on stage and began singing. Devon wondered how many acts were performing tonight and where Brennan was in the lineup. If this was going on indefinitely, she would need a drink.

  “When did you say Hadley and Garrett are getting here?” he asked, checking his watch after the last singer.

  “They didn’t say.”

  It was getting late. They should have been here already.

  “I have to go backstage soon. I hoped to catch them before I left, but I guess I can’t help it. Tell them I said hey, and I’ll see them after the show,” Brennan said, rising from his seat.

  Devon fiddled with her phone and contemplated texting them to find out where they were. Hadley was a compulsively late person, but Garrett wasn’t, so they usually balanced each other out. A new person anxiously walked up onto the stage and began awkwardly strumming a guitar. Devon knew this one was going to be a nightmare.

  She leaned over to Amy and Hannah. “How many of these people are generally terrible?”

  They both looked at her like she was being rude.

  “They all have the guts to go up there at least,” Amy said with a shrug, not meeting her eye.

  “Yeah, it’s not easy to get up on stage like that,” Hannah agreed, crossing her arms.

  Remind me to never try to make conversation with you again, Devon thought.

  “I’m going to get a drink,” Devon said to no one in particular.

  They weren’t listening anyway.

  Careful to avoid the table that had harassed her earlier, she ambled over to the bar and saw there was a long line. Devon sighed, debating whether it was worth it. She decided to wait anyway since she didn’t have anything better to do.

  She spent the time scanning the room more closely. Earlier, she had only been looking for her friends, but now, she could simply people watch. A group of girls in the corner were dressed in nothing short of hooker attire. She wondered if they were actual prostitutes or if they just dressed that way for attention. If it was the latter, it was working. A couple was pressed up against the wall in the corner. The woman’s leg was hitched around the guy’s waist, and that was pretty much all Devon could see of her. The couple would be leaving soon if they didn’t prefer the convenience of the restroom stalls. More than a few groups of guys had similar appearances to the meathead who had come on to her earlier. This place seemed to be a breeding ground for them. She would have to tread more carefully to evade their wandering hands on her return to the table.

  She looked away from a large group of guys making less than playful banter with one of the hooker types. The girl must have been pretty headstrong because she looked like she was ready to take them on…or maybe she was taking them on in other ways. Devon didn’t want to think about it.

  Just as she was finishing her assessment, her eyes landed on a couple near the entrance to the restroom. They appeared to be in the midst of a heated conversation. Devon took a step forward in line and narrowed her eyes. It was dark, but she could just make out the shape of those shoulders, the style of the guy’s hair, the thinness of the girl’s waist, and the flash of blonde hair in the light. It was Hadley and Garrett.

  How long have they been here? Devon wondered.

  Devon observed their body language because she was too far away to hear anything they were saying. Hadley looked out of sorts. Her hands were flying, and her mouth was moving nonstop. From the looks of it, she appeared to actually be yelling at Garrett, but that didn’t make any sense. Garrett was standing far enough away from Hadley to not look domineering. He seemed to be listening intently, but his posture showed that he was uncomfortable. It was a weird look on him. Devon had spent hours and hours with him, acting completely silly and also completely serious, and she had never seen him look uncomfortable.

  She watched as Hadley pushed Garrett away before she turned her back to him. Garrett reached out and grabbed her wrist. He yanked her back toward him, crushing her against his chest, and then slammed his lips down on her mouth. Hadley struggled against him, beating at his arms and shoulders, before she caved and sank into his embrace. When Garrett finally released her, Hadley slapped him across the face and stormed into the restroom.

  The girl behind Devon nudged her forward in line. It was her turn to order, but Devon just stood there and stared on in shock.

  WHAT THE FUCK had just happened?

  Seriously. What the hell had just happened?

  Devon ordered her drink, so the woman behind her would stop bothering her. Finally, with her drink in hand, Devon turned back to the place where Hadley and Garrett had just been. Neither of them was standing there, and she searched the area to see if she could spot them. They weren’t in plain sight. They must have moved on.

  She couldn’t understand what had happened. Hadley and Garrett were in a realm of perfection that didn’t exist in other relationships. Devon was surprised Hadley didn’t have a ring on her finger already.

  Devon knew it was ridiculous to think that. It was easy to see the perfection on the outside, but she lived with them. She knew what their schedules were like and how little time they actually spent together. She knew that Garrett’s dad didn’t like Hadley, and she knew that Garrett didn’t know about Hadley’s little coke problem.

  Devon stopped in her tracks. Had Garrett found out about Hadley’s drug problem? She ran back through the scenario in her mind, recalling what she had seen. No. No, it didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t have kissed her like that. Would he? Maybe he had asked her to choose him over the drugs. Maybe the kiss had been an act of desperation on his part to convince her, to try to keep her. Gah! She didn’t know, and she really, really wanted to know.

  She returned to her seat to wait for Brennan’s performance and stress about Hadley and Garrett. Amy and Hannah continued to act as if her appearance at their table was of little importance, and right now, Devon was happy for the reprieve. She had too many other things on her mind.

  Coming to Chicago to escape her life in St. Louis wasn’t working out exactly as she had planned. Not that anything ever did. Not that she had really planned it out to begin with.

  Hadley was supposed to help ground her. Garrett wasn’t supposed to take her place. Devon didn’t want to be more comfortable with him than Hadley. Brennan wasn’t supposed to be so appealing. She had too much to work out in her life without dealing with the intruding thought of Brennan’s lips against hers again. She couldn’t do that…not with everything else.

  “I think he’s next,” Amy squealed.

  Devon glanced over at them and noticed what she hadn’t seen before. They liked Brennan. She hadn’t paid any attention at work, but it was pretty obvious now that she was looking for it. Maybe they had heard about how she had gotten the job at Jenn’s and that was why they didn’t like her. They must think she was competition. It would explain a lot.

  Well, if that was what they thought, they were wrong. After Devon had turned down Brennan, she couldn’t fathom him trying again. She had made it clear that she was off-limits. Even if he wanted to cross those lines, she wasn’t sure he would act on it again.

  Ugh! She couldn’t even think about it all. It just made her head hurt.

  Devon placed her palm on her forehead and tried to massage out the growing ache in her head.

  “You feeling alright, Dev?”

  As Devon’s head flew up in surprise, she found Garrett standing over her. “Garrett! You’re here!”

  “Yeah, sorry about being so late,” he said.

  She looked around, wondering where Hadley was. Was she still in the restroom? Was Devon a bad friend for not
following after her? Devon hadn’t felt like it was her place to step in. Garrett and Hadley didn’t know that she had seen their argument, and they probably didn’t want her to know about it. Still, maybe she could go check on Hadley.

  “Where’s Hadley?” Devon asked, knowing the answer.

  If she wasn’t with him, then he had left her in the restroom.

  I guess it is just going to be a guilt-ridden night, Devon thought.

  Garrett took the seat Brennan had left unoccupied. “Oh, she really, really wanted to come, but she’s sick tonight. I couldn’t even drag her out of the house. Are you okay? I hope you don’t have the same thing that she has.”

  Devon stared at him blankly. He was lying. He was looking her in the face, straight in the face, and lying. And he was damn good at it. She couldn’t even tell. She knew he was lying, and she couldn’t even tell that he was. He actually made her doubt what she had seen with her own two eyes earlier.

  “Wha…what’s wrong with her?” Devon asked in disbelief.

  “Headaches, body aches, exhaustion. She has been really moody all week, so it could just be PMS,” he said with a shrug.

  PMS? He was really going to use that. Hadley had just slapped him across the face, and he was going to blame her behavior on PMS. Yeah right!

  It’s more likely the amount of cocaine she is using, Devon thought.

  “That sucks,” Devon said finally.

  “Yeah, she really wanted to come,” he repeated.

  “I’m surprised you came out at all if she wasn’t feeling well,” Devon said accusingly. Why wasn’t he chasing after her? Why was he letting her go? Wasn’t that what was supposed to happen? She felt deluded about Garrett and Hadley’s relationship. She had wanted so badly for it to be as perfect as it looked from the outside.

  “She told me to go. After all, I couldn’t do anything for her,” Garrett said. He leaned back into the chair, his ankle crossing over his knee.

  “Of course,” Devon said, trying to hold back the sarcasm from her voice. “I sure hope she gets better soon.”

  “Comes once a month. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Garrett said over the applause from the last performer.

  Devon rolled her eyes and looked toward the stage. Garrett wasn’t going to give any clues as to what had happened between them. She would have to ask him later, or maybe she would have to ask Hadley. Hadley had been the one who was pissed off, so she might be more likely to spill. For all the confidence that Devon and Garrett had been entrusting each other with, she wasn’t so sure he would tell her, but maybe she would ask him about it again later anyway.

  Her eyes focused in on Brennan as he walked onto the stage, carrying an acoustic guitar. Her body tensed as she stared down at him. She could hear murmurs coming from the women in the audience as he plugged in his guitar, adjusted the microphone, and sat down on the chair. Everyone was noticing what Devon had just realized moments ago. He looked great up there. He had taken off the blue button-up that he had arrived in, and now, he was just wearing a fitted green T-shirt with his dark jeans.

  If she didn’t know him better, she would have thought he was completely comfortable up there. But his hands twitched as he plucked at a chord, and she watched his lips move as he muttered to himself. He had an easy, lazy look to him that helped him appear more relaxed than he was. She wished she could do something to calm his nerves.

  After Brennan finished his adjustments, he leaned forward toward the microphone. “Good evening. I’m Brennan Walker. A couple of you out there might have seen me up here before. I’m sure a few of you booed me off stage the first time I tried this. Thanks for coming back and giving me another shot.”

  The crowd chuckled. That was a good sign. Devon found herself rooting for him.

  “For those of you who are new to the open mic routine, you picked a damn good night to be in the house. I’m playing a selection of original tunes, and I hope you like them. This first one is titled ‘Headstrong.’”

  Devon wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but whatever it was could never compare to this. She knew music. She had grown up around music, dated musicians, and listened to every genre imaginable. Her heart craved music. And that was exactly what she was getting tonight.

  Brennan’s voice wasn’t the best out there. He wasn’t a master on the guitar. He didn’t have the stage presence of the artists she had encountered at home. But he had a certain quality about him that seemed superior to all of that. It was like when she had tried to tease apart her feelings toward him, and all she had discovered was that she couldn’t. That was what his music was like. It was more an emotion than anything, like the way she felt when she got butterflies in her stomach, or when she rode a roller coaster, or when she caught the first glimpse of the horizon across the ocean. It was all and none of those things.

  And maybe she was the only one in the room feeling that. But wasn’t that what made art so beautiful in the first place? She could stand in one place and experience the same thing as a hundred other people, and everyone would come out of it with something different. She felt like she was soaring, and the world was flying beneath her feet. Brennan’s smooth voice was music to her ears, and music brought her home.

  When the song ended, Devon realized her eyes were closed, and she slowly opened them. As her vision adjusted to the dim lighting, she focused down on Brennan.

  What are you doing to me? she wondered.

  The crowd cheered, and Devon followed, clapping her hands hard.

  “He’s good, right?” Garrett leaned over, so Devon could hear him.

  “Yeah! Wow!” she said, wearing the biggest smile on her face since she had been in Chicago.

  “You should have come to his last performance. The audience gave him a standing ovation at the end. I don’t know what it is about the guy, but everyone goes nuts for his music. Hadley even cried at the end of his last show, and he only played for like fifteen minutes,” Garrett told her.

  “He’s good. I should know,” she said with a laugh. “I know music.”

  “You should pitch him to the people you know,” Garrett suggested.

  Devon wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know people, except for my parents.”

  “I’m sure you can think of someone,” Garrett prodded. “His music made you smile brighter than you have since you got here. Anything that can put that pretty smile on your face should be playing on the radio.”

  Devon blushed at his words. “Thanks,” she said, staring back down at Brennan.

  She probably did know someone. Most of her contacts were with country music, and he clearly didn’t sing country. In any case, she could likely get him an in…if that was what he wanted. It would be something worth thinking about…maybe.

  Before she could think about it any further, he started the next song. The next two were ones that Garrett knew from previous shows. He told her that Brennan normally added a couple originals in here and there among the covers he did. Garrett had never been to a gig where Brennan did all originals. Devon couldn’t imagine the show any other way. No one else’s music would have felt right.

  As Brennan’s short set drew to a close, Devon found she didn’t want it to end. How could it be so close to being over already? It felt like he had just started.

  “I want to thank you all again for coming out. This is my last song for the night, and it’s kind of personal to me. It’s about loss, pain, and silence…about how hope blossoms in the smallest of packages and in the least likely of circumstances. This one is titled ‘Moving Forward’,” he said into the microphone, his eyes seemingly finding her in the crowd.

  As he played the first few chords, his eyes never strayed from her. She wasn’t even close to the stage, but he seemed to know right where she was. Amy and Hannah sighed heavily next to her.

  As soon as the lyrics started flowing from his mouth, Devon could tell the song was different from the others…more personal. She hadn’t thought it possible, but this song was better suited to
him than the others. He couldn’t have described the lyrics any better than in his introduction.

  She felt like her heart was breaking as he sang about a loss she could understand. She felt a stabbing sensation in her body as she experienced his pain. The words made her feel like she wasn’t alone with the dreaded silence from which she suffered. And finally, she could feel her heart being stitched together. The needle wasn’t gentle, and the thread would heal the wounds in time, but there was hope that the scars would heal.

  When the song came to a close, Devon felt tears welling in her eyes. The song was painful. It actually caused her physical discomfort to even hear it, but that made it even better. People who had ever willed themselves to silence needed the hope from Brennan’s song. Maybe it would help mend their hearts, too.

  Brennan stood as the house came down with applause. People were on their feet. Some people were swiping at their eyes from the emotional song. But Brennan never broke eye contact with Devon, and her eyes never left his gaze until he was ushered offstage for the next performer. That poor soul.

  “I don’t know how he does it,” Garrett said, nudging Devon lightly. “Look, you’re even crying. I thought we talked about this. No more crying from you.”

  Devon laughed through her tears and sniffled. “Right. Right. No more crying,” she said, wiping under her eyes.

  “If I had a voice like that and could play guitar, I could bag so many girls,” Garrett said with a fake dumb expression on his face, making fun of all the guys who actually talked like that.

  “I’m sure he does,” Devon said, laughing softly at his joke.

  If Brennan’s advances toward Devon were any indication, he was surely getting exactly who and what he wanted.

  “Who? Brennan?” Garrett asked incredulously. “No way. That guy is a saint. Girls are magnets for musicians, and he manages to fend them off like a lion tamer.”

  “No way is he a saint,” Devon said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t believe it. Half the girls at work like him.”

  “Well, you ask him then,” Garrett said with a shrug. “I’ve known a lot of guys with musician complexes. He doesn’t have one.”