by Becky Wicks
She laughs as I sing her song but she shakes her head. ‘I’m serious,’ I say. ‘Your parents will be looking down on you and smiling even more than they are right now when you get over this thing.’
‘Thank you for not thinking I’m a total moron,’ she tells me and on impulse I reach a hand to the back of her head again. I pull her close and press my lips to her forehead.
‘We’re all a little bit broken,’ I say. ‘Trust me, you’re not alone.’
She freezes beneath me momentarily, then puts her hands to my chest. The warmth from her palms spreads across my body and shoots adrenaline through my veins, like it did back at the house when it took every ounce of my strength not to press my lips to her incredible smile. I can’t. Grace is everywhere, even when she’s not. And so’s my goddam father.
I can still see Micah’s face as he stood there, tearstained on the porch with his backpack on his back. I can still hear the pain in his voice as he held it all together but told me to get out of there myself as soon as I could. I can still hear my father ranting in the background: ‘Everyone who is sexually immoral or impure, or who is covetous has no inheritance in the kingdom of Christ. Ephesians 5:5, Conor!’ It’s not even the Bible, or the words that send the fear of God through me anymore and it hasn’t been for years. It’s just him.
The moment passes again.
Stephanie pulls away slowly, reaches for her glass, nods her head, sucks on the straw.
‘I don’t think you really know how talented you are,’ I tell her, swigging on my beer to stop myself doing or saying something I’ll regret. ‘You’re in Nashville now. You’re going to show that damn piano what you can do.’
‘You’re right. I need to face my fears,’ she says, affirmatively. ‘I need to dance in the rain.’
I smile, squirming suddenly on the inside as my own inner voice starts telling me I need to do the same thing. I’m a hypocrite. I need to live in the moment. I need to face my fears, too, but they’re pinning me to my own damn past like a staple gun.
‘I guess if I can survive a desert island for seven weeks…’ she says.
‘Exactly. If you can do that, you can play a piano. I know you can.’
‘What do you know she can?’ A voice from behind us makes us both turn around.
‘Travis!’ Stephanie says in surprise as he extends an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in to him. I watch him kiss the side of her head like they’re old friends. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asks, taking the words right out of my mouth.
‘Thought I saw you walk in. Got a slot, I’m first up,’ he says from under his trademark hat, motioning to the stage across the room to where a crowd of what must be his groupies are already gathered. I notice he’s shaved; he looks younger. ‘Figured I’d put to the crowd some of the stuff you’ve been inspiring in me this week!’
I shoot her a look of what must be confusion as he signals behind us for a beer and Stephanie shrugs. ‘Travis has been playing at The Nice Rack this week,’ she explains. ‘Well, if you can call it playing. Harassing is more like it. I didn’t know you’d actually finished any songs.’
He grins his whiter-than-white grin. His tight white shirt is so… un-creased. His boots are even shiner than ever. He must polish them every day. I realize my nerves have bristled. She didn’t tell me he’d been into the restaurant, let alone that he’d been writing songs in there.
‘Gotta say, I haven’t written as much in months as I have these past few days, even if you haven’t been helping me.’ He rests one boot on the bar of Stephanie’s stool next to hers, flicks her hair playfully. ‘Maybe just being around you is bringing my songs out, huh?’
‘Maybe it’s just that you’ve been working on them for once, instead of hanging round bars, hitting on girls,’ Stephanie counters.
‘So, what’s the deal with this HotFlush thing,’ I say as Travis orders us all a round of shots. ‘Are the rumors true?’
‘I could ask you the same thing about rumors in this town,’ he replies, raising an eyebrow surreptitiously, ‘but they need more songs from me, yeah. They wanted to partner me up with some publishing team on Music Row, but I told them no.’
‘Why? Don’t you want to be a star?’ Stephanie says, leaning on the bar.
‘I do. I will be. But why give some old cowboys more profit than you have to when that happens? The trick is doing as much for yourself as you can – that way you’re indispensible to any label.’
‘Not if no label will sign you in the first place,’ I remind him and he meets my eyes with a warning glint. I see it but I’m not intimidated by him. I threw him out on his ear once and I’d do it again. I grip my bottle harder, swig my beer. My cell buzzes. There’s a text from Lou: The blond from McFlannerys! You sneaky SOAB. PS. Luv your work.
I’m just figuring out that SOAB means son of a bitch when our shots arrive and Travis hands them round, just as his name is called to the stage. We clink them together and tip them back. ‘Wish me luck!’ he says, slamming his glass on the bar and swaggering off towards the mic.
‘Is he for real?’ I say to Stephanie, wincing from the whisky sting and shoving my cell back into my pocket. ‘He’s really been playing songs at the Rack all week?’
Stephanie laughs as two more drinks are deposited in front of us and Travis starts up with an intro. His crowd all roar and cheer and I have to say, he’s a pretty damn good entertainer. ‘Maybe he just likes The Nice Rack,’ she says.
‘I could reply to that in a few different ways,’ I reply with a straight face, ‘but I’ll just say nothing.’
‘You do that,’ she smiles, running her hand over her lips where the shot must be burning her, too. ‘Seriously though, I don’t know why he wants to write with me, Conor. He’s only heard what we played in the yard that night at Indie Pete’s.’
‘Are you kidding me? What we played was great, Jackson. What you played was great.'
She nods thoughtfully, though her next words are drowned out by Travis. She turns to the stage again as he starts with his chorus and we both freeze instantly on our stools. He has a great voice, I’ll give him that. He’s got the twang people love; the slight huskiness that records well, but his lyrics are… well.
The ketchup bottle’s red
Your eyes are oceans oh so blue
I love your sunset smile
But not as much as you
Sing to my heart
Sing to my soul
You’re the one girl who makes me whole …
Some people at the front are clapping and whistling. And by some I mean one, maybe two. I put a hand to Stephanie’s shoulder. Her eyes are wide, her lips are pursed into a line and I struggle not to laugh. ‘What the hell is he doing?’ I whisper at her. ‘Is he serious?’
She cringes now, leaning into me. ‘I really think he is. Oh my God.’
‘Did he do that in the restaurant?’
‘No! God… Conor, I have never heard this... this…’
‘Crap,’ I finish for her. She pulls a face against my shoulder and I can’t help it, I laugh. I hide my mouth behind my hand, so no one at the front can see me but I can’t stop. He’s so bad. Even the bar-back has stopped mid-scurry with a tray full of empties. His face is all scrunched up as he stares at him.
‘He’s been shouting awful lyrics at me all week, but I always thought he was joking,’ Stephanie tells me now. I can tell everyone’s wondering if this is a joke. It’s the kind of April Fool’s Day prank some famous artist might pull on national radio to go viral before a real album launch, but not something you’d pull at a place like Douglas Corner Café, where people are clearly expecting something bordering on talent from an unknown who just won an award for song writing. I’m wondering now if the rumors were true – that Travis Flynn slept with a judge to get that prize. No wonder HotFlush are brushing him off.
‘I feel so bad for him,’ Stephanie says, turning to where he’s still crooning on and on about nothing. ‘We have to help him. Go up
there and do something… sing with him.’
‘Me? No way, he’s on his own,’ I say, holding my hands up. ‘He just sang about a ketchup bottle!’
‘Conor! Come on, be nice, musician to musician. He might as well be committing suicide up there.’
‘I can’t believe he’s singing about sunset smiles, I mean, what is that?’
‘Conor!’
‘OK, fine!’ I stand up, walk towards the stage, just as Travis is finishing up his song. As a couple of people clap and he stands up with the guitar I jump up, take it from him. ‘Thank you so much, Travis Flynn!’ I say into the mic, shooting him a look that tells him not to argue with me. He folds his arms in annoyance, cocks an eyebrow. ‘That was the brilliantly satirical number Sunset Smile. Give it up for the nonsense that makes sense, ya’ll – you know it’s the best kind!’
I watch the look of uncertainty float across the crowd before a few people put their hands together again in applause. Eventually everyone claps and his groupies at the front start whistling. Suddenly I see Candice, my number one fan from McFlannerys.
‘Conor!’ she yells! ‘Play something!’ I catch her eyes and hold up my hand to her. I’m already holding the guitar. I turn to Travis.
‘Do you have anything else?’ I ask him off-mic. ‘Anything decent?’ He shakes his head. He looks seriously pissed. I can’t very well steal his entire spot. I turn back to the mic. ‘You may not know, guys,’ I say, ‘but Travis Flynn and I have been jamming together a little lately, along with a very special lady who’s here tonight. I’d like to welcome her up on stage if I may. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Stephanie! Come on up here girl!’
I watch the shock cross her face from the bar before she puts her drink down and jumps off the stool, starts making her way through the crowd, looking around her and shrugging as people applaud her. ‘What are you doing?’ she whispers at me when she steps on to the stage, although she’s half smiling as she’s handed a guitar. Travis steps forward.
‘Stars, I tell them both. ‘Travis, just improvise. D, E minor, G, C. Then B minor, C on the bridge.’
‘That’s your song. That’s not one of mine,’ Travis points out gruffly.
‘I think that’s probably a good thing, don’t you?’ I say as I hand him back his guitar and take my seat at the keyboard that’s already set up on stage. I motion for them both to play. It’s one Stephanie and I have been practicing all week in Fret. She has the guitar part down and it’s easy enough for Travis to follow. Let’s face it, anything has to be better than what he just did. Hell, he’ll drive everyone out of the bar if he carries on the way he just started.
Can you feel it
The ghost in the room we can’t see
Casting shadows
Between you and me
How it floats in the space between words we can’t say
And we can’t walk away
Can you feel it
The future’s not planned by the words we’ve spoken
But by promises we must have broken
What if we can’t choose
Every battle we win and lose
What if we decided years before,
To live this life, to fight these wars
And all the dreams we ever thought were ours
Were written in the stars
I can both see and feel people responding; even as Travis messes up one line and harmonizes out of key. Stephanie steps towards him with the guitar, strumming and singing to cover him and I doubt many people are watching me, to be honest. It’s all about her up here.
She’s moving over to me now; standing behind me with her guitar and leaning into my mic to sing the bridge with me. Her hair brushes my face in the lights and I can feel the sparks that always fly between us literally leaving us and shooting out across the room. People are mesmerized.
Can’t you feel it
The intangible choice that we made
How there’s no one and nothing
Our spirits can blame
Cause the die has been cast, somewhere deep in the past
And we’re both coming back here again
Can’t you feel it
The future’s not planned by the words we’ve spoken
But by promises we must have broken...
As we sing though the chorus again I realize... I noticed at Pete’s in the yard and I’m noticing it right now - the confidence Stephanie seems to lack at times, like when her fear of the piano or of being good enough for Nashville takes over, it all seems to bounce right back when she’s on stage, or performing for others.
Our souls need to fix what was clearly not right
In another life
In another life
Where we were written in the stars
When we strum the final note, the crowd all get to their feet.
Travis grips Stephanie’s hand, raises it high and kisses her cheek. Then he wraps an arm around my shoulder in a brotherly squeeze. I fix a grin to my face. He can make out like he owned that show, but we both know it was Stephanie people were staring at.
‘Thank you all so much!’ she calls now, handing the guitar back to the guy who jumps on stage. ‘And thank you Conor and Travis – two of the biggest talents in Nashville, I think you’ll agree!’
‘Sing something else!’ Candice calls from her place just below us. I notice her looking between us all as she holds a beer to her lips.
‘Just you, sweetheart!’ another guy yells from the back, at Stephanie.
Travis nods to us both and I feel a rush of guilt as he hands me his own guitar and steps off stage, but everyone’s cheering for Stephanie and her whole demeanor seems to have changed somehow. Her cheeks are flushed. I can feel the energy radiating out of her. She belongs up here even more than I do. I can’t believe she took so long to get to Nashville… that she let so many fears stand in her way. I want to kiss her more than ever.
‘What do you say, Stephanie? Shall we show them the Time Of Our Lives?’ I say into the mic as she’s handed the guitar back. She puts the strap over the shoulders.
‘I say we should let them know this is our practice run for the Bluebird,’ she replies now and Candice lets out a whoop. Travis is watching us as we start to play. I realize we just completely sabotaged his set unplanned, but rather than looking angry as we sing and play and rub shoulders, harmonizing the lyrics we now have ingrained in our brains, he looks thoughtful and kind of sad. I really think Travis Flynn is struggling. Not that I can dwell on it too much as I meet Stephanie’s eyes.
And we’ll run, and we’ll run
But we’ll run for each other
And we’ll catch one another when we’re ready to fall…
I’m watching her in pride and awe now and something snaps inside me as she turns to me halfway through the song. She’s grinning, sparkling like an actual star and holy shit, I’m falling hard for this girl. Way too hard. I never meant to, but it’s like I’m under a damn spell and so is everyone else in this room by the sounds of it.
The excitement in the room when we’re done is palpable and she reaches for my hand, taking a bow as I do. She leads me down off the stage with her fingers entwined in mine and her hair bouncing over her shoulders. My heart is beating so hard.
‘My heart is beating so hard!’ she cries, pulling me closer now and I can’t help the laugh bursting out of me as she looks up at me. Euphoria is written all over her face.
‘I was just about to say that, so is mine. I can’t believe we did that, holy shit!’
‘Holy shit is right!’ Her hands find my waist suddenly, then the belt of my jeans. She loops her fingers through the holes and looks up at me with those vivid blue oceans. Instinctively I lean in, down, slowly, slowly...
‘Guys, what can I say?’ Travis is behind us. Stephanie springs away.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says but he waves her words from the air and leads us back to the bar again. My shoulders are stinging from all the congratulatory smack
s and pats and my head is buzzing from the shots and the beer and the almost kiss.
‘We didn’t mean for all that…’ Stephanie starts at him again, but Travis is grinning now, pulling her against him hard, smacking another kiss to the top of her head.
‘Hey, they wanted you, not me, and I don’t blame them. You belong up there. We have to write together. All of us. I won’t take no for an answer.’
‘We have a lot of work to do still, before the audition,’ I say and Stephanie nods enthusiastically.
‘Yeah, we probably shouldn’t start anything new right now.’
Travis puts a hand on both of our shoulders. He’s looking between us now, eyes wide under his hat like he’s come up with the greatest plan ever. ‘Listen. I have contacts. If we pull together on this we could really open eyes out there, where it matters. You guys have the words, I have the brand, I have the music…’
‘We also have plenty of music,’ I say, irritated now. ‘We can’t do it, Travis.’
He puts a foot on the bar stool, folds his arms. ‘So you’re just going to keep right on stealing my gigs, is that it?’
‘We saved your ass up there and you know it,’ Stephanie tells him, coolly. ‘We have our own plans and I really don’t think…’
‘What’s all this we, anyway?’ he says, cutting her off, nodding from Stephanie to me. ‘Are you two together now, is that it? Written in the stars, seriously? Does Grace know what her boyfriend’s doing while she’s away?’
I lean up close to him as my fists ball on their own. ‘That is none of your business.’
‘Really? What about the Hearts Community? Do they know about this little union? Bet your father would have something to say about this.’
‘Travis, stop,’ Stephanie snaps, right before I go to punch his face. I step backwards, still seeing red as he pulls his beer to his mouth, glares at me as he chugs on it. ‘Risky business. I guess that’s your call. I just think we could do great stuff together, that’s all. What’s this?’ He’s pointing to Stephanie’s purse on the bar now. Her songbook is sticking out of it. He grabs for it before we can stop him, turns away with it. ‘You have a million lyrics in here,’ he says in amazement.