by David Archer
When he came out into the kitchen, Kenzie was at the table eating cereal. “Sam! Sam!” she shouted at him. “Mommy's letting me take Samson down to Tracy and Lacey's house, and we're gonna do a sleep-over!”
“Yes,” Sam said, “I heard about that! You make sure Samson is a good boy down there, okay? Don't let him get into trouble, now.”
She smiled up at him. “I won't,” she said. “He's a pretty good cat, but sometimes you just gotta keep an eye on him, you know?”
“I know!” Sam said. “He can be a real stinker, sometimes, can't he?”
Indie cracked up laughing, and Sam joined her a moment later. Sam got up and got a bowl of cereal for himself—he loved the kind with the marshmallows in it, and that's what Kenzie was eating—and sat down to eat, while Kenzie finished hers and ran upstairs to start getting dressed and ready for her big adventure.
It was going to be quite a day, Sam thought, with just him and Indie spending it together. They had the final rehearsal in the afternoon, and then the gig that evening, and Sam was nervous as he could be.
Indie seemed a bit frantic, herself. When Kenzie came down a few minutes later, all ready to go and with a bag packed full of PJ's, spare clothes and toys for both her and Samson, Indie was fully ready to take her daughter down the street and have a break from Mommyhood.
Sam thought they could relax, then, but he was wrong. “I've got to get a bath, and do my hair and makeup, Sam,” Indie said. “Since we're gonna be out all day, I gotta get all that done now!”
The band had agreed to meet at Stan's garage at noon, so that they could run through everything a couple more times before they were due to go on stage, and Sam and Indie pulled up in the Vette just a few minutes later. Indie was wearing a dress she'd snuck out and bought the day before, while she and Kenzie were at home alone, and Sam had almost fallen over when he saw it. It was black with gold and silver trim in spots, and went all the way to the floor. It looked good on her, and she knew it; Sam's reaction told her it was definitely the right choice!
Sam was wearing jeans with a gray button-down shirt, and Indie thought he looked hot! Candy and Janice agreed, and Stan ran back into his house to change his own shirt to one that was a little darker gray than Sam's. Chris was wearing a white shirt, and the three of them made a nice contrast.
The girls were wearing jeans and tanks, and both of them were wearing more makeup than they needed. Candy had added in a wig that was a light pink, which Sam thought made her look pretty fake, but he figured it was all part of the band's persona, so he didn't say a word.
They visited for a moment, and encouraged each other, everyone saying it was going to be a great night. Chris told them that the manager of Herman's had called him to ask if they were going to be there, now that the word was out that Barry was dead, and he'd assured the guy that their new singer was every bit as good. Sam didn't think he was, but no one wanted to hear his opinion, so he dropped it.
They started their rehearsal, then, and Indie got to be a one-girl audience, She did her best to make them feel like they were onstage, cheering and shouting and clapping after each and every song, no matter how many times they did it. Sam was having as much fun watching her as he was standing at the microphone.
The afternoon wore on, and the closer it got to time to go, the more excited they all got. At five, Sam suggested they all go and grab a bite to eat, so they climbed into their vehicles and went to a restaurant Chris knew, where he promised they could get the best Italian Beef sandwiches they'd ever eat. Sam said later that he was right, and promised Indie they'd eat there again soon, with Kenzie!
It was showtime.
They parked at Herman's, and Sam and Indie got out of the car. She looked at the building and said, “I've never been here. Is it a nice place?”
Sam shrugged. “I was here a few times, years back. I hear it's getting a little run down, but it's still one of the hot spots for live music in town.”
They followed the rest of the band inside, and Sam was introduced to the manager, a guy named Tony. Tony looked him over and grinned.
“Well, you ain't as pretty as Barry, but Chris says you got a sound that's gonna make the crowd happy. That's all I care about. They're getting pretty restless out there, dancing to the jukebox; you guys ready to go on? I know it's a few minutes early, but...”
Chris smiled. “We're ready!” he said. “Give us twenty minutes to get set up, and we'll hit 'em with everything we've got! You're gonna love Sam, I promise! What a sound, man, what a sound!”
Tony grinned. “Just show me, don't tell me! Okay, the stage is yours. Get out there and make 'em dance! The dance floor don't lie; if you’re any good, the people will dance, and if you’re not, they'll just sit there. Since they drink more when they're dancing, I want to see 'em dance!”
Chris, Stan and the girls began setting up their instruments. Sam asked Chris what he could do to help, and was told to just stay out of the way. “We've been doing this a while, man, no problem. We got it!”
Sam felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Dan Jacobs standing there with a dozen of his old friends from the force. He introduced Dan to Indie, and then to everyone else. The whole crowd decided she was far too good for Sam, and he had to threaten to go and get his gun to make them back off, but it was all in fun and they all knew it. The group of cops all found a big table and commandeered it, while Indie found a smaller one closer to the stage and claimed it.
When the stage was ready, Chris told Tony, and a few moments later the lights went down and the jukebox cut off suddenly. Tony's voice came over the sound system.
“Okay, folks, we've all heard the sad news about Barry Wallace, may God rest his soul, but his band is still here, and with a new lead singer! They tell me this guy is every bit as good, but we're gonna let you be the judges, right? Everybody put your hands together for Step Back Once!”
Sam took his place at the microphone, and a second later he heard Chris say, “a-one, a-two, a-one, two, three, four...”
The first song was one of their most popular, and Sam let the music come over him the way it used to back in his earlier singing days. His voice seemed to come from somewhere deep inside himself, and he felt the bass drum rumbling through his chest as he began to sing.
At first he was nervous, because the audience simply sat there and watched, and he knew they were making up their minds about whether he was a worthy replacement for Barry, but by the time he was well into the first verse, there were people out on the floor. Within minutes, it was full, and many of them were cheering and applauding already. He heard shouts of, “Hell, yeah!” and “You got it, Man!”
The next few songs got similar reactions, and Sam admitted to himself that he was having a blast. His friends from the force were hooting and hollering like wild men and women, and he was laughing in between songs.
When they took their first break after an hour on the stage, he was hot and thirsty, and made his way to the table where Indie was waiting for him, a few feet off to the right of the stage, just out of the dance floor. He fell into a chair, and she leaned over to kiss him hard, which got a lot of shouts and cheers of its own from the audience.
Sam wasn't much of a drinker, he'd told Indie, so she had a glass of Coke waiting for him, and he downed it in seconds. A barmaid brought another one quickly, as people kept coming over to slap his back and shake his hand tell him he was awesome or incredible or one of a dozen other words that he was sure weren't true, but felt good to hear anyway. He looked at Indie and grinned.
“I actually agreed to this, didn't I?” he asked, and she laughed and nodded.
“You did, Baby,” she said. “Regretting it?”
He rocked his hand from side to side. “Not really regretting it, but boy, am I gonna be tired and sore tomorrow! It's bad enough in rehearsal, but doing this in a live show is a serious workout! I didn't know I could move like that, and my hip is not a bit happy with me for trying!”
“Poor Baby,�
�� Indie said. “Maybe if you're good, I'll give you a back rub later. Would that help?”
Sam looked her in the eye, and let a mischievous glint appear in his own. “I don't know about my hip, but the rest of me would love it!”
Indie just looked at him and smiled. “We'll see,” she said.
The break was only for ten minutes, and then it was time to get back on the stage. Sam sang his heart out for another fifty minutes, and the audience danced and cheered and clapped and let him know that, while he wasn't Barry, he was acceptable. The thought crossed his mind that being in the band might not be so bad, after all, and he could still work his PI practice on the side.
When the next break came, it was none too soon for Sam. His hip was screaming, and he reminded himself that he knew it would happen. He sat down with Indie and guzzled a couple more Cokes while he rested up for the final set. Ten more songs, he told himself, just ten more songs.
He'd planned his song for Indie to start off this third set, and he was getting a little nervous as he got back up to take the microphone again. Chris and the girls gave him thumbs up, and Stan did a drum riff as he walked up to it once more. Sam stood there for a moment, and then he leaned forward.
“This next song,” he said, “is one that I wrote just a couple of days ago, and these guys have been good enough to learn it and let me sing it tonight. That's pretty important to me, see, because I wrote this song for a very special girl, and she's sitting here tonight.” He pointed at Indie, and the spotlight hit her. “Indiana Perkins, this song is called The Woman Inside, and I wrote it for you.”
The whole place erupted into cheers and applause, as Chris began the riff that would launch the song, and several of them were congratulating her on having a special song all her own. Indie was staring at him, wide-eyed, completely taken unawares by his announcement, and when he began to sing, she felt the tears start to flow despite everything she could do to hold them in. The table full of cops was screaming their support, and Sam put his whole heart into singing the song. (Click to Listen)
I love the time that we spend together,
Feel so lonely when we're far apart,
Babe, I'm not tryin' to make you mine forever,
Just wanna find a way inside your heart,
Now there's some truth in all the things that they say,
One look at you is all it ever takes,
They take what they want,
And leave your heart to break!
And I see those guys,
They follow you around
For the chance to break your heart,
And let you down,
Oh, Baby, they just can't see,
The woman standing in front of me,
All they look at is the part
That you can't hide,
But I'm not after what my eyes behold,
I want the part of you that's lonely and cold,
And if I fall in love, it's gonna be
With the woman inside!
Wasn't that long ago my heart was breakin'
And nothin' on this earth could take my pain away,
Who'd believe you'd come along and save me,
A little smile that brightens up my day,
I can't see the future,
I take it a day at a time,
Just knowin' that you're here,
Keeps me feelin' fine,
No, Baby, they just can't see,
The woman standing in front of me,
All they look at is the part
That you can't hide,
But I'm not after what my eyes behold,
I want the part of you that's lonely and cold,
And if I fall in love, it's gonna be
With the woman inside!
Oh, Baby, they just can't see,
The woman standing in front of me,
All they look at is the part
That you can't hide,
But I'm not after what my eyes behold,
I want the part of you that's lonely and cold,
And if I fall in love, it's gonna be
With the woman inside!
Indie sat there and stared as the crowd around her went completely wild, screaming and applauding and dancing around as if the music were still going. Sam smiled down at her, and held out a hand, and the spotlight hit her once more.
“That was for you, Baby,” he said, and the crowd went crazy again.
Chris hit a lick on his guitar and they launched into the next song in the set, and slowly the place went back to the normal, loud dance club that it was. Sam sang over and over, and the more he sang, the more the crowd loved him, and he knew he'd found something that he wanted to hold onto, at least for a while.
When the final set was over, Sam and the band all sat down together for a few minutes, gathered around Indie's table. Candy patted Indie's hand, and asked, “So, did he get to you?”
Indie laughed. “Oh, yeah, you could say that! It's funny, but all the words in that song were things he's said to me; that it isn't my looks he wants, that we need to take it a day at a time, all of it—and yet, when I heard him sing it, they all took on a whole different meaning, y'know?” She was looking at Sam, and he felt like blushing.
“I know what you mean,” Candy said. “You know what I'd give to have a guy feel like that about me? You are one lucky girl, Indie, and don't you dare let this one get away!”
They packed everything up, and Chris went to get paid. When he came out, he handed Sam a stack of bills.
“What's this?” Sam asked.
“Your cut, man. Everybody gets fifteen percent of the gig, and the rest goes into the operating fund. We got two grand for the gig, so there's three hundred bucks there for you.”
Sam looked at the money in his hand. “I almost feel bad, taking this,” he said. “Maybe—maybe this should go into a memorial for Barry, or something.”
Chris shook his head. “No, man, you stepped up and did the job, so you get the pay. Trust me when Is ay Barry would want it that way. He was as fair and honest as they come, he'd want it this way, I promise.”
Sam nodded and slipped the money into his pocket, and then it was time to go. He walked Indie out to the Vette, limping all the way and leaning heavily on his cane, but still insisted on opening her door for her, and closing it when he was in. He went around to the driver's door and got behind the wheel, then looked over at her.
“Well,” he said, “how did I really do?”
Indie smiled at him, and then leaned over and kissed him with everything she had. Sam put his arms around her and pulled her close, and the kiss got even hotter, until he finally said, “Whoa, we gotta stop this!”
“Why?” Indie whispered into his ear.
“Because this is a Corvette, and there isn't enough room in this car for what's about to happen if you don't stop, right now! I've been a gentleman, but a guy can only take so much, Baby, and you’re pushing all my buttons!”
Indie slid back into her own seat and smiled at him. “Then I suggest you get us home,” she said in a sultry voice, “so I can show you just how much you really got to me tonight!”
Sam fired up the Vette and left rubber on the parking lot pavement. He drove as calmly as he could, but Indie was caressing his arm and running her hand on his right leg, and he was doing all he could to force himself to remember the rules of the road.
9
Sam's phone woke him the next morning, and he woke groggily to reach for it, but couldn't move his arm. A second later he was wide awake, as he realized that the reason it wouldn't move was because Indie was laying on it. Instantly, he remembered the night before, and exactly how she'd shown him how he'd gotten to her with his song, and the smile that spread across his face was a mile wide.
The phone was still ringing, though, and so he reached with his other arm behind his head to get it.
“Hello?” he said, and then a recording began to play.
“Hello. This call is from” and a new voice said,
“Jimmy Smith,” followed by the original voice saying, “who is an inmate at the county jail. To accept the call, dial five. To decline the call and block all future calls from this inmate, dial nine.”
Sam looked at the phone and thought for a second, then pressed the number five. A second later he heard sounds in the background on the other end.
“Hello?” he said again.
“Hey, Man, thanks for taking the call. Listen, I was wondering if you would come down and see me.”
Sam shook his head. “Why is that, Jimmy? I mean, I didn't put you there, the cops did.”
Smith laughed ironically. “Yeah, I know,” he said, “but here's the thing. I didn't do it. I did not kill Barry Wallace, and someone is going to great lengths to make it look like I did. If I don't get some serious help real soon, Mr. Prichard, I'm gonna find myself standing trial for a murder I didn't commit, and the way it looks, even I would convict me! I need help, and you're the only guy I trust, right at the moment.”
“Jimmy, why would you trust me? From what I've been told, you seem to be the only viable suspect in this case. Why do you think I can help you?”
“Look, Mr. Prichard, the cops aren't even trying to look for anyone else in this case, they think they got the right guy, and with the evidence stacking up the way it does, I can't blame them. That doesn't change the fact that I did not do it, though, so I need someone who knows how to investigate properly, and you're about the only PI in the whole damn state worth his salt. I need someone with your experience and skills, and you’re the only one who really wants to see the truth in this case. Now, I can pay you whatever you want, and I will; I just need your help.”
Sam thought for a long moment, and the first thing that crossed his mind was that he'd had some kind of misgivings about the way the case was solved so easily.