by Cary Hart
“Looks like word traveled fast.” She points at the doors. “I may have tweeted it.”
“Jen!” I didn’t want an audience tonight. The last thing I need is for my parents to find out I’m back in town.
“They are your fans, El. Don’t try to hide from them.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab the guitar and head to the stage, but not before looking back to see Lee standing, leaning against the wall.
Opening the worn leather case, I wrap my hand around the neck of the guitar and carefully lift it out while I take a seat on the stool.
Glancing up, I give Lee a quick wave, which he returns, before I speak into the microphone. “Testing, one, two, three.” I slide the strap over my head, strum the strings and begin to belt out a crowd favorite.
Everyone is singing along and clapping their hands. The tempo is a little too upbeat for the atmosphere, but I love it.
I crave it.
This is who I was born to be. I can feel it, and even though they deny it, they know it too.
I decide that since I’m closing out and the audience is liking where this is going, I’m going to end it on a high note.
Adjusting the mic, I bring it closer and say, “A certain someone asked me what I wanted out of life.” I scan the crowd to see him closer to the door now. “Ah, there he is.” I flash him a smile. “Anywho, I may not know what I want out of life, but I do know what I want tonight…” I begin to play the few chords to Elvis Presley’s “Trouble.” “That’s right. Trouble. Lee?” I settle in, strumming a few more chords. “What do you say? You wanna get into some trouble?” His face suddenly drops.
I must have embarrassed him.
“It’s okay.” I mouth before I start the song, one of my mom’s favorites. Except Lee looks anything other than fine. Bouncing from foot to foot, I can tell, even from here, he’s uneasy. That putting him in the spotlight was the wrong move because he does the one thing I didn’t expect. He lowers his head, turns and walks out the door.
Plastering on a smile, I let the crowd carry me through the last note then swing my guitar over my back and run after him to apologize.
“Lee! Wait!” I push my way through the crowd, hoping I can catch up to Lee and convince him to stay. “Lee!” I’m almost to the door, but someone steps around the corner and damn near knocks me backward.
“Trouble? Seems fitting enough.” He catches me by the arm a little too tightly.
This is what I didn’t want to happen.
This is why I didn’t announce I was back home.
This is why I have no choice but to do what I have to do.
“Father.”
“Time to go home.” He begins to pull me out the door.
“I have to get my case.” I jerk back.
Reaching over my shoulder, he lifts the guitar over my head and hands it to someone behind me. “You’re done! Do you hear me?”
“Don’t you even think about it. That’s mine,” I hear Jen say as my dad pulls me out the door.
“I have my car.” I break free and head toward my Mercedes, a high school graduation present from my parents, and climb in.
“Straight home, Eloise!” My dad walks by, tapping my hood.
This is where I want to shout back that I’m twenty-three years old. I’m an adult who can make my own decisions, but we both know that’s a lie. I tried to live my life for me and when I did, he followed and always brought me back home.
Slamming the door, I tilt my head back and scream. “I can’t do this!” I pound my fist against the steering wheel. I’m so caught up I’m unsure if I just laid on the horn or if my screams were that loud. Either way, I have onlookers.
Tonight felt good.
Tonight, he made me believe I could be anyone. Someone other than the person I pretend to be.
Chapter Two
Lee
One Month Later
“Move out of the way!” Niki pushes through our little party to make her way to the spotlights. “If I miss Kyle finally proposing to her, I will castrate you, fry up your balls and serve them as an appetizer. Your friends will be feasting on your balls, Scott.” She walks backward, not taking her eyes off me.
“Dude, don’t make eye contact.” Gavin Sanders, the manager of Spotlight and Niki’s husband, walks past me, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Here, babe.” He hands her a fifty. “Let’s get the spotlights going.”
“Gavin?” She still continues to eye me while she slides the fifty into the slot, activating the beam. “Have you ever had Rocky Mountain oysters?” An evil grin appears on her face, but it quickly disappears as the crowd begins to shout that Kyle is down on one knee.
“Niki is all bite.” Jen walks up behind me and hands me a beer.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I clink our longnecks together. “To happy endings — cheers.”
“Oh my God! This has to be one of the most romantic proposals ever!” Jen sighs.
“I’m not sure how romantic it is having everyone blinding you with beams of lights while you are trying to propose to the love of your life. Kind of seems a little impersonal to me.”
“Take that back!” She turns around, leaning against the railing, shooting me a death glare.
“Not a chance,” I tease.
“I’m going to ignore that.” She takes a step forward and pokes me in the chest. “But what I can’t ignore is the fact you haven’t been to Java Talk for almost a month.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“About what?”
I take a long pull before I tilt the bottle in her direction. “Your stalker tendencies.”
“Shut your mouth, Lee!” She slaps me on the arm.
“Here comes the happy couple!” Gavin announces to the party. “Scott? Where are you, man? Kyle says you have the next round.”
“Come on, you are being summoned.” She grabs my empty bottle and sets it on the table for the waitress to pick up.
“Right behind you,” I start to say, but stop in my tracks when I hear her.
That voice.
“Lee, everyone is sitting down.”
“I’m going to use the restroom.” I quickly pass by her and head toward the stairs.
“Dude, we’re in VIP. They are right over there.”
“Shit!”
“Ohhhhh, I get it.” She smacks her knee.
“No! Oh God, no!” I roll my eyes. “I need to take care of something.”
“I’m just messing with you. Go get her.” She winks.
“What?”
“Ellie.” She points toward the basement level where the stage is. “You’d better hurry. She is only playing a couple songs before tonight’s headliner.”
“Jen…” I question on what I’m about to do. I left that night for a reason. I’ve been there, done that before.
“Don’t think, Lee. Just go after her,” she says before turning to walk away.
Spinning around, I take the steps as fast as I can without drawing attention to myself. They take security around this place seriously, especially with all the pop-in celebrities who stop by so they can go out without all the hassle.
“How’s it going tonight? I heard we just had an engagement up in here!” Ellie hollers to the crowd, and they erupt in applause.
Pushing my way through the second level, I find the basement steps and take them as quickly as I had the ones before.
“For the final song, I’m going to slow it down a little and do a cover of one of my favorite artists. He’s pretty BAD and has a way with singing about Human Nature.” She laughs into the microphone as the crowd goes wild.
I can see her now; she takes a step back from mic as she strums the first chords. I can’t help it. Something about her makes me want to
just stand and watch.
She is absolutely stunning. Her dark hair, glowing shades of pink from the spotlights weaving through the crowd; her hazel eyes shining with the emotion the words can’t say. She feels every. Single. Word. An
d makes her audience feel the same.
This is what drew me in, her voice, but her heart is what made me want to stay.
So complex and confused. Just from the short time I spent talking to her, I knew she was someone I wanted to spend more time with. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to stay and chase this girl, risking everything for a chance, when I’m struggling to hold on to the only thing I’ve even known.
“Well, guys, that’s it for me, but my girl who came all the way from Nashville, Tennessee, is here to bring a little country to the city life. Please welcome, the one, the only, Myles Davis.”
Shit!
I was so wrapped up in her performance I’m still a hundred feet from her in a sold-out crowd. Working my way through the maze of people, I call out excuse me, pardon and I’m so sorry more times than I can count until I reach the stage, to only see her walking down the hall.
“Ellie! Wait up.” I take off down the corridor and round the corner, skidding to a stop when I see the open back door and Ellie there talking to a man in a suit.
“Miss Hawthorne, your father has requested I pick you up.”
Hawthorne?
“It’s not necessary, thank you. I have my car.” She tries to step past him, but he blocks her way.
“Mr. Hawthorne told me to not give you a choice. So, please do us both a favor and get in the back of the car.” He lowers his head and his tone. “Please, Eloise. You know how your father gets.”
“Malcolm, I was having a good night. High off life and this right here is bringing me down. A total buzzkill moment.” Ellie takes a step forward and the driver moves aside, then follows behind.
I can’t help myself. I already came this far. I have to watch her leave because chasing is no longer in the equation. Kicking the door open, I see the car driving away, nothing but fading taillights in the distance.
The chase over before it even began.
Ellie Thorne?
Eloise Hawthorne?
Neither one is the girl I thought I knew. Just a performer looking for her next show. Just like her.
Chapter Three
Ellie
“Miss Hawthorne?” I hear the fragile voice of Maggie, our housekeeper and former nanny, through the door.
“Come in.” I sit up in bed, waiting for her to come in and bring me my hot tea. “You can set it down over there.” I throw the covers off and pad over to the dresser to tie my hair up.
“I’m sorry, Eloise.”
Here we go again. She is using the same sad tone Malcolm used on me.
“I didn’t bring tea this morning. Your father is requesting your presence downstairs,” she says, her eyes watering. “Eloise, my dear.” Maggie takes a couple steps toward me, tucking a loose hair behind my ear. “He knows. He knows about the gigs. He knows you haven’t been at school and you have been staying down the road with the Bowens.” She shakes her head, before dropping her hand. “Sweetie, he knows you dropped out of school.”
“Shit!”
“Maggie, I thought I told you to send Eloise down.” My father’s voice echoes down the hall.
“Eloise, sweetie, this is it. Now is your time. Prove them wrong.
Prove them all wrong,” she whispers before she heads out. “She’s coming!”
“The hell she is,” he says angrily as he barges into the room. “Maggie, you may leave.”
“Father, I-I can explain.” I reach for my robe, slide it on and tie the belt, trying to occupy myself so I won’t have to look my father in the eyes. “I couldn’t do it and honestly why would you want me to keep on going, wasting your money like that.”
“We made a deal. You finish this semester and we would discuss your future.” He moves to stand in front of the window, pushing the curtains back and gazing outside. “One month. You only had one goddamn month. Was that so hard?”
“I was losing who I am. I was suffocating,” I plead.
“Don’t give me that shit. Now you are sounding like a spoiled little rich girl.” He tries to yank the curtains closed but pulls the rod down instead. “Fuck!”
“Daddy—”
“Father,” he spits out.
“Father, I know I told you I was going back to school after that night at Java Talk, but I couldn’t. I really did try, but I couldn’t.”
“I’m not going to lose you to that life. I love you too much.” He plops down on the bed, hands on his knees, a look of defeat present. It’s a look I have rarely seen on his face.
“Daddy, you won’t lose me. I promise.” I move to stand beside him, placing my hand on his shoulder. “I just want to do what I love.”
Raising his head, he just looks at me. The look of defeat gone, his fight back. “Love?” He takes his hand and flings mine away, standing up
so quickly I almost fall back. “Little girl, this is reality and I’m afraid that your mom and I have catered to you for so long that you have become delusional.”
“Daddy?”
“Eloise, this is your last warning. Address me as Father.” He storms past me and into the walk-in closet, and comes back out with a small, carry-on suitcase. “You want to live this life? Make a living playing bars and coffee shops?” He throws the suitcase on the bed. “Everything you have I have provided it for you. So, I like to think I’m being pretty generous by letting you take this.” He nods to the suitcase and continues. “Whatever you can fit in there, you can have.”
“Father?”
“You want that life? No questions asked? You can have it, but you will not have our support.” He turns and walks out.
“Father?” I run to the door and call after him. “This isn’t what I want.”
“You should have thought about that before you dropped out of school.” He doesn’t look back as he takes the stairs one by one. “You have thirty minutes.”
Thirty minutes.
“You got this,” I say to myself, wiping away the tears that threaten to spill over.
I’m suddenly thankful for those sleepless nights where I fell through the Facebook rabbit hole of video tutorials; I know how to pack for thirty days in a tiny carry-on.
Looking down at my phone, I mentally jot down a list.
Pack.
Shower.
Get dressed.
Get my guitar
Head to Nashville.
Five little tasks and not quite thirty minutes is all that’s between me and making my dream a reality.
Bring it!
This isn’t what I wanted or how I intended for this moment to go. I would have never dropped out of college if they would have opened their eyes and seen that I never belonged there in the first place.
I just wanted what everyone else wants: approval and support from two loving parents. What I received was a short leash and a list of demands and expectations.
Now I’m standing by the door, bags in hand, waiting for someone to come and stop me. They don’t.
As I open the door, I blindly reach for my keys on the entry table.
“Are you looking for these?” My father’s voice grabs my attention.
“If those are my keys, then yes,” I snap as I turn around and see him standing with my keys dangling from his index finger.
“You mean my keys.” He removes the Bob Dylan guitar pick my mother gave me with my guitar. A little secret we kept between us.
“Hey! That’s mine.” My eyes go wide at the thought of him just throwing the pick away. That little pick was the only support I have ever received from my mother, Anna Hawthorne. The one-time
singer/songwriter. That is, until my father gave her an ultimatum.
“This little thing.” He holds it up, examining it. “You can have it.” He tosses it at my feet. “But these.” He holds up the keys I have called mine since I graduated. “Are mine.” He smirks as he tucks them in his perfectly pressed pants pocket.
“It was a graduation gift.”
“My name is on the title.” He strides toward me, hands still in his pocket
s while he looks me over, his silent judgment making me feel dirty. “You see…” He tilts his head to the side and crosses his arms, bringing a hand to his chin as he makes his statement. Because with my father, Nathaniel Joseph Hawthorne, every word is carefully thought out. “If you would have paid attention in your business classes, you would have learned all about assets, and how it’s important to have them.” He nods, trying to sell me on his statement, a move I have seen him do a hundred times in the courtroom.
My father is the most sought-after attorney in the Midwest. The problem with this whole screwed up little scene though is I’m not the judge nor the jury. I’m his freakin’ daughter for crying out loud.
“You know what? I don’t need the car. It’s only a material possession, apparently one you own.” I take a couple steps backward. The door is still open behind me. A few more feet and I’ll be out of this prison for good.
“Nate, you can’t just let her go out there with no means of transportation.” My mother walks up behind him with a towel draped around her neck. Probably from morning yoga.
“If this is the life she wants to live, then let her do it.” He wraps his arm around her and my mother leans, looking up at him.
“Nate,” she pleads before she looks back to me.
“Mother, it’s fine. I have a plan. Please don’t worry about me.” I turn to leave.
“And what’s that exactly?” My father reaches past me and slams the door, blocking me in.
Dropping my bags, I begin to unleash everything I have ever wanted to say. The verbal vomit spews from my mouth.
“You know what? Contrary to what you think. I’m perfectly capable of making it on my own. I just haven’t wanted to, but what did I want? My parents’ support. Their love. Their acceptance.” I look between my mother and father. “I wanted you to see the talent that Mom saw. You know, the same talent that she possesses.”
“Eloise!” my mother gasps.
“You think you are so smart. You think you are capable of leaving here and making it on your own?” My dad reaches down, grabbing my designer handbag. “Let’s see you try. It doesn’t matter what talents you think you possess. You don’t have what it takes to make this your business. To create a life.” He opens my bag, taking out my wallet.