by Sonya Clark
Deanna took her phone out and checked the time. “I gotta go, it’s time to pick up Hayley.” She gathered her purse and stood, then pointed at the poster behind Daisy. “She wants me to take her to that benefit. I think she wants to meet your country singer.”
Daisy dropped her gaze to the table. “He’s not my country singer.” She felt her sister staring a hole through her.
“Do I need to come over and bring ice cream?”
“Nope.” Daisy raised her head and smiled. “But you do need to get out of here. I’ve got work to do.”
It was a struggle to get through the bookkeeping though, and not just because of the mess Josh had made of it. Daisy wasn’t sure what was worse, or more distracting: thoughts of her mother, or thoughts of Wade.
Chapter 23
Wade got home from the last rehearsal with the band, a local group called The Sandy River Boys, and took a quick shower. He felt good about tonight’s upcoming performance at a benefit concert, which was good because he didn’t feel good about much of anything else. He hadn’t seen Daisy all week. He’d avoided Rocky Top when he wasn’t scheduled to play, and the two nights he did play this week, she wasn’t scheduled to work. He missed the sight of her weaving through the crowd as he played, the occasional sound of her laughter as she chatted with customers. Stolen kisses in the storage room or the alley behind the bar. Mostly he missed talking to her. She seemed to have an instinct for understanding him. He wished he had the same understanding of her. Ending things with him before they really had a chance to get started didn’t make sense. She’d sent a lot of mixed signals and he knew she had trouble making up her mind about him, but he’d hoped......well, he’d hoped.
Sooner or later he’d learn not to do that.
He stood in front of his closet with a towel wrapped around his waist. The phone rang while he was still trying to decide what to wear. His manager’s name was on the caller ID. He greeted her with all the fake enthusiasm he could muster.
As usual, Becky Walker cut right to the chase. “Have you pulled your head out of your ass yet?”
Wade bit back a scathing retort. “I haven’t been drunk on stage the whole time I’ve been here.” She didn’t need to know he’d gotten drunk over a woman.
“That’s that the same little bar where you got your start, right? I just might have to come see you.” Becky hadn’t come to one of his performances in a long time.
“I’ll be there every weekend until the end of summer.” That seemed like forever now, with Daisy avoiding him.
“Yeah, about that,” Becky said. “I may have something for you if you’re interested.” Her tone was careful, and that put him on alert.
“What’s that?”
“One of my other clients had to back out of a six week residence at a concert hall because of illness. I’m trying to fill the slot. It’s yours if you want it.”
That was a little too vague for his liking. Normally Becky gave him every last detail right up front. “Where’s it at?”
She sniffed then cleared her throat. “Branson.”
Fuck. He nearly threw the phone but stopped at the last second.
“It’s good money, Wade. The promoter sets up country cruises too. If this six weeks goes well, it could put you in a good place to appear on one of his cruises. Get invited back to Branson. It’s good, steady work.”
Wade shut his eyes and counted to ten. “Yeah, getting norovirus and being a nostalgia act sounds great.”
Becky snapped, “Then get off your ass and write some new songs. Don’t turn your nose up at Branson like you’re too good to play there, because you are not. Just like you’re not too good to be playing all the casinos and honky tonks you’ve been playing since the label dropped you. Damn it, Wade.” She paused, and he could practically see her willing herself to be patient. “It’s good money and a good opportunity. You’ve been playing shows for years now, singing your old songs, singing other people’s songs. There’s no shame in that. If you ever want a record deal again, you’re going to have to show that you can act like a professional, and you’re gonna have to come back to Nashville and eat some crow. If you want a publishing deal, you need to show that you can still write good songs.”
Wade knew she was right. That didn’t make it any easier to accept. The problem was, he still didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know what he could do anymore, other than perform. His recent songwriting attempts had yet to yield anything he was willing to play for others. Until he had some songs he felt were good enough to share, he didn’t even want to talk about the fact that he was writing again. Or rather, trying to write again.
There was a time when he hadn’t had to try when it came to writing songs. The songs had flowed like a river, until one day the words and music dried up when he wasn’t even looking. Now he was trying to find the source when he’d never had a map in the first place. He had to admit, at least to himself, that he might never find it again.
He said, “When do you need an answer?”
“I need to know by Monday to get the contract dealt with in time. You’d start next weekend.”
That didn’t leave him a lot of time to think about it. Nothing was holding him here in Brittain. He and Randy had a handshake deal and besides, Randy was a businessman as well as a friend. He would understand about taking a paying gig over playing at Rocky Top. Wade’s family certainly wasn’t expecting him to hang around very long. As for Daisy, she’d made it clear she didn’t want to get involved with him.
Hell, he might as well say yes now. But something made him hold back. He told Becky he’d call her Monday morning with an answer.
Was he already a nostalgia act? Was that what he’d let himself become? He’d gotten so good at giving audiences what they wanted, what they expected from him. Did he have any surprises left in him? Any new songs, new stories?
This show tonight was a benefit concert and he wanted it to be a success. So tonight, he would give the people of Brittain what they wanted, the kind of show he knew he was good at.
He reached into the closet and carefully selected what Wade Sheppard, Country Star needed to wear. Tight Wranglers in dark indigo. A black western shirt with wine red embroidery and piping. His best pair of boots, black Lucchese’s made of alligator. Once dressed he finished off the look with his black Stetson. He knew he would cut a striking figure on the stage, armed with his Gibson Hummingbird.
That was the Wade Sheppard people were comfortable seeing, so that’s what he would give them tonight. He wasn’t sure anymore if there was anything else underneath, but tomorrow he was going to have to figure it out.
***
The convention center was packed. Daisy moved through the crowd slowly, greeting people and keeping an eye out for Megan. Trying to pretend she wasn’t also looking for Wade, though surely he’d be backstage by now. She almost skipped tonight but she’d already bought her ticket and she wanted to be around in case Randy needed help with anything.
She spotted Megan standing on a chair at the side of the room, camera at the ready. Not some little dinky camera, either. Megan had a digital SLR and knew how to use it. She didn’t get much opportunity to do so anymore, so it made Daisy happy to see Megan taking pictures. Mr. Hollister stood nearby, talking animatedly with a couple about his age. That made Daisy happy, too.
Mr. Hollister greeted her with his customary big smile. “Hello, Daisy. How are you?”
She smiled back and kissed his cheek. “Good, sir. How are you doing?”
For a moment his eyes darkened and she could see the effort he put into pushing that darkness away. “Oh, I’m having a good time tonight. Put a bid on a tasty looking caramel cake at the silent auction. Looking forward to some good music. Yes, I’d say tonight’s a good night.”
Daisy saw the camera aimed at them out of the corner of her eye. Megan said, “Hey, you guys, smile for me.”
Mr. Hollister took Daisy by the arm and they faced the camera and his daughter. Photos taken, he
turned to Daisy and said, “I see some folks I’d like to talk to so I’m going to leave Meggie with you. Don’t let her talk you into any trouble, now.”
Daisy laughed. “No, sir, Mr. Hollister. See you later.”
He drifted into the crowd. Megan came down from the chair. Daisy said, “He seems like he’s having a good night.”
Megan nodded. “He does still have good days. Plenty of them. We just need to make the most out of those good days while we can, you know.”
The canned music got louder and the lights flashed a few times before settling again. Almost show time.
Megan said, “So how’s it going with you and Wade? I’m surprised you’re not backstage with him.”
Daisy looked everywhere but at her friend. “There is no me and Wade.”
“Oh, come on. What happened?”
What happened was she’d blown it before they’d even had a chance. She shook her head. “Not now.”
Megan studied her with a mix of confusion and sympathy. Daisy didn’t want the sympathy so she looked away.
The last of the canned music came to an end. As the lights went down the crowd got loud. Daisy may not have been a country fan and a part of her wanted to be miles away from Wade Sheppard, but she couldn’t help but be pulled along with the energy in the room. Live music did that to her, did that to just about everyone she knew. She could see it in their faces now, hear it in their shouts. It was the same energy created in Rocky Top every night Wade had played, only bigger, fuller, more intense. Maybe it was the crowd size, maybe the overall mood. There were there because of a terrible thing, to help a family pull itself back up out of tragedy. But they were there to party too and that raucous, joyous energy wound its way through the room and lifted everyone.
Randy bounded out onto the stage, waving and smiling. “We want to thank y’all for coming tonight. Your donations have been so generous. Not just your money, but a lot of you have given freely of your time and your abilities to help bring this night together. We still got the silent auction going on back there in the back. If you haven’t been, please go take a look at all the cakes and pies and handcrafted items. There’s a lot of real nice things, I’m sure everybody could find something they’d like to take home. Now, the Ackles family wanted me to thank you all and let you know that they feel blessed to have John on the mend and to have the support of this great community. They’ve asked that we all continue to pray for John’s recovery so that he may be fully healed, and pray for the safety of all of our brave firefighters.”
“Amen!” A group of men from John’s firehouse raised their beers.
Randy applauded the firefighters and encouraged the crowd to do the same. “We got a real special treat here tonight.” Members of The Sandy River Boys slipped on to the stage to increasingly loud cheers. “This man needs no introduction but I’m giving him one anyway.” A huge, proud grin split Randy’s face. “Right out of high school, this young man started playing at Rocky Top on the weekends. Not even old enough to drink yet, and he was in there singing drinkin’ and cheatin’ and love songs.” He paused for a beat. “And he was terrible!”
The crowd laughed. Randy ate it up. “Yes, sir, he was. But he was also tremendously talented, and eventually he learned to play live. After a while he moved on to Nashville. Got himself a manager. Got himself a record deal. Got himself a bunch of hit songs and then a bunch of awards. The Grammy for Best Country Album.”
More applause broke out.
“CMAs and ACMs. He even won Entertainer of the Year.”
“Twice!”
Daisy craned her head to see who the feminine voice belonged to, relieved to see it was Wade’s mother. The people surrounding her laughed, except for Chris who looked like he’d rather be on the far side of the moon.
Randy grinned. “Pardon me, twice! He won Entertainer of the Year twice. And you know they don’t give that one to someone who doesn’t know how to put on a fantastic show.” The crowd noise swelled with impatience. “And he learned it all in my bar!”
Daisy laughed and let Megan pull her closer to the stage. Megan hoisted the camera to indicate she wanted pictures. That’s all Daisy was doing, just keeping her friend company. It had nothing to do with ─
“Ladies and gentleman, please welcome Brittain’s own Wade Sheppard!”
Thunderous applause erupted, threatening to drown out the band as they played a fanfare. Wade strolled out onto the stage as if he owned the place, as if he was born to be there under the spotlight and in front of a microphone. He surveyed the audience, his kingdom, and picked up his beautiful Gibson Hummingbird from where it rested in a guitar stand. He settled the strap around his body then raised his hands to calm the crowd noise. As he lowered his hands, the crowd responded, growing quiet until silence filled the convention center. Anticipation filled the space relinquished by cheers and applause, cranking up the tension to an almost unbearable degree.
Daisy bounced on her toes, wondering if he could see her. Wondering if she wanted him to see her.
Wade stood with his hand poised over the strings of his guitar with a pick between two fingers, stretching the moment just a little farther. A tiny smile played at the corners of his mouth. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Daisy was enthralled by that as much as she was the performance.
But as she was about to learn, he’d barely begun his performance. He turned his head slightly to the right and nodded at the rhythm guitarist. Then the pick hit the strings and Wade called forth something wild and fierce from that beautiful instrument.
He was magnificent.
Chapter 24
The longer Randy talked, the worse Wade’s nerves got. He took slow, deliberate breaths and kept himself as still as possible, not wanting anyone else to see how he felt. This time, there was no one here to talk him through the worst of his stage fright.
Was she out there in that crowd somewhere? As packed at it was, he might not be able to find her, especially if she didn’t want to be found.
Raucous laughter broke through Randy’s speech. Wade couldn’t make out the words and didn’t care to. He was too busy worried about finding that one person to sing to until he got over the nerves. The bigger the audience, the harder it was to find that person. He’d played packed arenas before, so the practical side of his brain knew he could handle his hometown convention center. That’s not where the nerves came from, though. The nerves that made his stomach tremble and his hands shake came from a place deep inside, where all of his worst doubts and fears lived. He needed that one person to sing to until he could slam the door on that dark place and feel like he belonged on stage, instead of feeling like a fraud who snuck in through an unlocked service entrance.
A young woman with a clipboard and a headset tapped him on the arm. “Mr. Sheppard? It’s almost time.”
He focused on her face and it helped to pull himself out of his reverie and focus on the present. “Call me Wade.”
Randy’s big voice boomed out over the sound system. “Ladies and gentleman, please welcome Brittain’s own Wade Sheppard!”
The little stage manager patted his arm and mouthed good luck. He couldn’t hear her over the sound of applause. He shoved his right hand in his jeans pocket and withdrew a pick. The flat surface and sharp, rounded edges felt like an extension of his fingertips, so natural after playing guitar for most of his life.
Wade strode to the stage, not slow but not hurried either. The wine red finish of his Gibson Hummingbird gleamed under the lights. He glanced out over the crowd and picked up the guitar.
They’d already worked out a set list, with room for some improvisation. So he knew what song to start with, and now as he listened to the thunder of the crowd he knew how to start the show. He raised his hands and lowered them slowly. The crowd responded, growing quieter as his hands dropped. He knew he had them, right from the start. That bolstered his confidence. Wade couldn’t see her but some instinct told him that Daisy was out there in the audience somewhere. He
called up an image of her face bathed in moonlight and rapt with attention as he sang to her, just to her, and he had what he needed.
He nodded at the rhythm guitarist and then tore into Whiskey River with a vengeance. That bottle of booze he’d killed last weekend hadn’t done a damn thing for him. It certainly hadn’t cleared out the shit left in his veins by Daisy’s rejection. He channeled all of that now, every stupid pointless emotion the liquor hadn’t been able to wash away, and he exorcised it on the strings of his guitar. And god damn, it felt good. Cleansing and purifying and every bit the release his soul needed.
That set the pace for the next two hours. He played hard and loud and poured himself into every song, every note. The set list was a mix of covers and his own songs. Every time he sang one of his old hits, it felt like letting something free. It wasn’t on the list, but after conferring quickly with the band he launched into Empty Rooms. It cut him open right on stage and seared him to the bone, and this time the word exorcism felt truer than ever. Tears glistened in the eyes of a few close to the stage and he knew without having to see that there were more crying in the audience. He’d cried himself a few times, singing this song. This time when all that old heartbreak washed over him, he didn’t hold on to it with the greed of a man afraid he’d never feel again. He let it all go. As the song wound down to its final notes, he felt its power over him finally slip away.
The crowd was already on its feet. Now as they applauded and cheered, it felt like an embrace. He stood silent and still in front of the microphone for a long moment. The set list was visible, taped to an amp to his right. But now that he’d gone off the map, he wanted to keep going. All they had left was the encore, so surely no one would begrudge him taking off his hat and singing something a little different. He knew he’d just given one of the best shows of his life, and he’d done it by giving the audience what they wanted. Surely now he could have a little bit of what he wanted.