Whirlwind Love: Libby's Journey

by Hendley, DiDi

  The guitar guy nodded. He spoke in a low tone, clearly trying to calm the angry man, but looked around the parking lot the entire time he spoke.

  It occurred to Libby this was probably a bad time to bother them about photos, and maybe she should just leave. To go back to the RV meant passing by them...so she waited until they walked away and were no longer in sight before she set across the parking lot, retracing her route from the back door.

  “Hey, sweetheart” a voice called out. “Where’s my ph’tographer goin’? You can’t end our love story on that note!”

  Libby stopped in her tracks in the middle of the access road, blushing at having been caught. She muttered, “Flarfle,” under her breath. She slowly turned and walked toward the two men, a little embarrassed. The angry man was rummaging through the SUV’s back seat, while the guitar-god was shamelessly checking her out.

  “I don’t want to interrupt you. You seemed to be...involved.”

  “So, you’re a ph’tographer? You work for a newspaper or somethin’?” the guitar guy asked looking at the camera. With blatant intent, he visually followed the line of her body up to her face, smiling as if he approved.

  She kept her distance, offering a clenched smile. She was put-off with the way he seemed to be stripping away her clothes. When his gaze finally found her face, she lifted her camera. “Sure looks that way, doesn’t it? But…”

  The angry man stepped out of the SUV with a weathered carry-on bag in hand. He turned to face her, shifting his bag to extend his hand to her. She was stricken by how stunningly handsome he was, in spite of the scruffy stubble on his face. The baseball cap shaded his blue eyes. Ocean blue-like the tropical calendar shots, Libby thought. She felt as if a bolt of lightning hit her in the head and stepped back unconsciously.

  He smiled at her reaction and offered his hand again, “Hi, I’m Joe, and you seem to know my brother, Chuck. You here for the show tonight?”

  The smooth southern drawl made her tingle, or maybe his touch as she took his hand, Libby couldn’t be certain. He sounded very different from the angry, authoritative tone she’d heard previously. The combination of his blue eyes, his hand on hers, and his voice that oozed sex-appeal, caused a shiver to run up Libby’s spine. Her breath and heartbeat quickened as she blushed.

  He seemed to be laughing at her, which unnerved her even more. “Sorry for all my drama.”

  Trying desperately to compose her voice, she replied, “Daddy would say: ‘Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.’ I’ve been driving across the Midwest and hearing about you guys for the last couple of states. I’m from South Carolina, heading to Arizona, eventually,” she laughed. “I thought I’d come hear you in person while passing through, take a few pictures, if you’d let me,” she laughed nervously as she realized he was still holding her hand…tightly.

  There was almost a glint of a thrill in his gaze as he studied her face. “A philosopher and a photographer…now, that’s an interesting combination. Am I gonna hav’ta guess your name?” he smiled.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Libby Morgan.” Just as she said her name, a horn blared behind her as a beer truck rolled past. Libby’s feet involuntarily stumbled toward the SUV and the man with the beautiful eyes. Embarrassed, she looked down to find Joe’s other hand on her arm as he’d pulled her away from the truck and into his body. The carry-on bag was on the ground.

  He smiled a very disarming smile, “Careful there...you’re too pretty to be a speed bump. So, what else does Daddy say? Have mercy but you smell good. I don’t think I’ve ever smelled anything so sweet.”

  As he steadied her, he released her hand without taking his eyes off hers.

  “When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one and a lily with the other,” she smiled uncomfortably under his gaze.

  He laughed, “Sage advice. We were hurrying to run through some songs, if you want, you’re welcome to take some pictures before the place fills up. Hey, I can’t wait to see what you come up with...later. You’ll share ‘em, right?” His smile completely knocked Libby off her game—if she had game, that is.

  “My pleasure,” Libby whispered, her eyes locked on Joe’s. Clearing her throat, she responded, “I hope they’ll be worth...sharing.” Joe smiled as he picked up his bag. As the three walked back into the bar, Joe placed his hand on the small of her back, leading her into the dark room.

  Libby wasn’t used to being nervous around people. No man had ever affected her in such a way. She stepped toward the back of the room, walking around as if she were looking for angles in the room, but in reality, she was trying to compose herself.

  “Get a grip, girl!” she tried to convince herself. By this time, Chuck strapped his guitar on again and began fingering the strings, while Joe turned on the microphones. She heard them mumbling as she sat in the chair she occupied earlier, forcing her breath to steady and willing her heart to stop racing.

  Chuck played the beginning chords, as Joe turned to the microphone and began singing a slow song in his delicious southern drawl. After a few seconds listening, she turned on the camera, stepped deliberately in front of them and fired. Libby quickly became so caught up in shooting, she forgot to be nervous.

  There was a definite connection between Joe and Libby, and the camera was telling the story. As she moved around the room, his eyes followed her. Movement behind Libby as bar staff came into the room distracted her for a moment. Someone turned on stage lights, while another moved a ladder under the lights. After adjustments, the lighting man walked to the back of the room to check his handiwork. Libby took advantage of the ladder and climbed a few rungs. She focused the camera and shot several pictures. Joe gave her a sly grin but kept on singing. His mood seemed much lighter than his first impression. For several songs, Libby photographed the brothers at different angles and in different lighting as the technician continued his task.

  Occasionally, Chuck and Joe stopped to talk with one another, but Libby kept shooting. She turned around and shot the staff at times. When one of the bar crew gave her a funny look after a shot she took of him, she smiled graciously, “just having fun…you don’t mind, do you?”

  One of the waitresses brought several beer bottles to the stage. Joe laughed, thanked her and helped himself. Chuck took a bottle and drew a long sip, then put the bottle down beside his amp. The waitress brought Libby the third bottle. She thanked her and took it. She took a sip and set the bottle down on the table. Libby didn’t really care for alcohol, but she didn’t want to be rude.

  As the crew moved the ladder from the floor, it occurred to Libby how the noise level had grown. The five-o’clock crowd had arrived to get their party started, and they were waiting to enter the concert hall behind two large bouncers.

  Libby picked out an elevated table near the side of the stage and sat down. A manager introduced himself, and led Chuck and Joe to a room off to the side of the hall. Libby overheard Joe say “No, she’s with us,” as she looked up she saw all three men looking at her. Joe gave her a smile, and she gratefully smiled back. They followed the manager into a back room and closed the door.

  Libby called over a waitress and placed an order for today’s dinner special. She began looking at her pictures in the digital camera. Before the waitress walked away, Libby called out, “Hey, I’ll be right back,” then slipped out the back door, past a bouncer, and returned to her RV. She loaded the flash card into her laptop and downloaded the images. She was amazed at the detail she picked up with such low lighting. She was thrilled at what she’d captured so far. Libby reloaded the camera with a fresh card and battery then returned to the door. The man who made the funny face for her picture was standing in the doorway, directing ticket-holders to the front entrance. Smiling at him, he let her through the back door. The waitress was placing a “RESERVED” sign on Libby’s table next to her food.

  The KTRY radio
station began to play over the PA system. The excitement began to swell as more people arrived. Libby’s table gave her a perfect view of the entire room. Libby asked the passing waitress, “What do you know about Chuck and Joe?” as she began to nibble her burger and fries.

  The waitress replied, “I’m a newbie here. I don’t know much ‘bout ‘em personally, but they’re awesome, and they sure made things excitin’ ‘round here! I’ve heard we’re sold-out. I’m looking forward to the show! Hey, just holler if I can get you anythin’,” she smiled as she bounced away as lively music began playing over the speakers.

  Libby felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Glancing at the screen, she saw Megan’s face. “Hey, Muggs! What have you been doing? I’m so glad you called!”

  “Just got home from class, lotsa studying to...hey! You sound like you’re at a party!”

  Libby laughed, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I was at a concert!”

  “Who’s?”

  “Have you ever heard of TBK?”

  “Yeah. They’re good...old, but okay. I’m not sure if they’re still together or playin’. Why?”

  Libby smiled.

  The two chattered until the incoming crowd made the noise level impossible to hear. Libby was so glad to hear from Megan, she wished Megan was there with her. They each said their goodbyes. Libby turned her attention to her meal. She listened to the excited chatter of the crowd, trying to learn as much as she possible about The Brothers King.

  * * *

  Around eight o’clock, a man with a ‘radio voice” took the stage. “Hello everyone! How’s everybody doing tonight? Is everybody ready to welcome TBK?” The crowd responded louder with each question.

  “I’m ‘Stan, the Man in the Morning’ Burke—I’m sure you’ve heard me on KTRY 103.1, your country music station!” The crowd cheered.

  “Thank you for that! So you have heard of me? Well KTRY is proud to present to you tonight for a limited engagement, some great friends of mine, Joe and Chuck, The Brothers King!”

  Chuck and Joe entered from the room in which they earlier disappeared. They had freshened up and changed clothes. Joe had lost the baseball cap and his long, brown hair was now loosely framing his handsome, albeit scruffy, face.

  The crowd went crazy. Libby picked up her camera and started shooting. She shot the crowd in their overwhelming enthusiasm. The waitress appeared out of nowhere to clear her table. She noticed the beer bottle half full. She asked, “You want another?” Libby shook her head no. The waitress replied, “I was told to keep ‘em coming.”

  Libby turned to face the waitress with a puzzled look. The waitress bobbed her head in the direction of the brothers, raised an eyebrow and smiled. Libby turned to speak into her ear, “How about a ginger ale?” she smiled. The waitress nodded and disappeared.

  Libby turned her attention back to the music and to shooting pictures. She moved around the crowd trying different angles and shooting faces in the crowd. She only occasionally used the flash so as not to be annoying. She enjoyed being an observer. She watched Joe work the crowd, playing to the audience. He didn’t look anything like the angry man she’d seen on the phone earlier that day.

  Just as Joe finished a song, the sound of a gunshot was heard loudly over the adoration of the crowd. Libby looked around the room for the source.

  “Uh oh...y’all know what that means!” Joe enthusiastically called to the audience. The energy level of the audience magnified as waitresses entered with trays of shots.

  “Somebody’s called us out!” Joe looked back at Chuck. Libby’s waitress presented a tray with two shots to Chuck. After he took his, she passed the tray to Joe. He took the glass and a piece of paper from the tray. The audience grew lively as waitresses began circulating with trays of shots.

  “A SHOOT-OUT! All you daring souls, lock and load! [Reading from a small paper] Paul and Rosa are celebratin’ their second anniversary everybody. Paul’s called for...Alamo shots! Oh, shit...those’ll knock you on your ass for sure! For those of you that may be new...a shootout can be called by anybody—just see your bartender. Anybody who wants to duel-just pay the lovely ladies with the shots as they come around. Let’s see...the Alamo has what...Turkey, Tequila, rum, right?”

  “151 rum,” Chuck added as he absently checked his tuning. “And some heat too, I believe.”

  Joe looked sternly back at his brother. “Yeah, you would know that now, wouldn’t you?” Joe laughed and looked back at the crowd. “This man lives for just five things: playin’ guitar, singin’ and writin’ songs, drinkin’, and well...ladies I guess I don’t need to tell ya about the rest, do I?” The women in the bar screamed and cheered as Chuck surveyed the patrons with a wicked grin on his face.

  “You say that, like it’s a bad thang,” Chuck spoke up, looking at Joe. With a knowing look and faint smile on his handsome face, Chuck slowly nodded as he looked across the adoring faces of the young ladies at his feet, which fueled their enthusiasm. Catching the eye of one particular giggling, bouncing young lady, he shot her a wink. She squealed in delight as she bounced even more. Chuck proudly grinned at her easy response as he nodded his head. “Let’s do this!” Chuck insisted to Joe.

  “Everybody locked and loaded?” Joe asked as he raised his shot glass to the audience. Glancing again at the paper, he looked thoughtful for a moment.

  “OK...I got this.” Joe acknowledged to Chuck. Holding his glass high, he waited for the audience to quiet.

  “Never forget -- true love is a must. May every day end with a bounty of lust! Start each day with words of love, Rosa and Paul. As for the rest of you posers, jus’ keep ya damn paws off, y’all! SALUTE!”

  Chuck added, wiping his brow, “That’s right! They’re taken! Rosa and Paul, may your lust be as hot and kickin’ as this Alamo shot fifty years from now, whew!”

  The crowd grew rowdy as the shootout went around the room. Libby looked pensively around the room as the cheers surrounded the obvious couple celebrating their anniversary. With a set jaw, she turned her attention to her camera and reviewed her last few shots, trying to block out the crowd.

  Joe again strapped on the haggard guitar and turned to the microphone.

  “Time to pull out pappy. Have y’all met pappy?”

  The crowd screamed and clapped.

  “Well, for those of you who haven’t…this guitar…this worn out, old guitar, was given to me by my Grandpap when I was but a wee laddy,” Joe went into a brogue with a laugh.

  “Course I couldn’t keep this one off it,” he nodded in Chuck’s direction. As he began to pluck notes on the old instrument, he continued, “So, my folks had to buy him one from a pawn shop—just to keep him off pappy, here. Well, I guess he finally figured it out, right?” Joe laughed, and Chuck took his cue to rip into a guitar solo that demonstrated his elite status as King Badass, Guitarist-Extraordinaire, words that just-so-happened to be labeled on one of his guitar cases propped behind them.

  As the enthusiastic crowd quieted after Chuck’s impressive solo, Joe laughed, “That’s right folks…that’s why they all want him. And his attitude is why I’m the one that gets to keep him.” The crowd laughed along with Joe, but Chuck just shook his head.

  The brothers began the intro into their next song and the crowd settled again, more than ready to sing and dance to the upbeat tune.

  Several songs later, Joe picked pappy up again and called to the waitress, “How about a Jack shoot-out?”

  Their waitress returned after the next song with their two shots while other waitresses appeared with trays lined with whiskey shots. As the drinks were sold to the crowd, Joe cooed, “You know, Chuck, lilies…are my favorite flower.”

  Chuck nodded absently as Joe grinned, eyes scanning the room.

  Raising his shot, Joe cooed, “To Lily!”

  Libby looked through the crowd for anyone acknowledging
the salute, but failing to find her, she kept on shooting her camera as the celebration continued. Joe then announced, “This is one of my favorite songs, and I’d like to dedicate it to Lily, too. Joe began his intro and the crowd quieted, some singing along.

  When you’re in my arms

  won’t let you go.

  Just wanna feel your touch

  ‘cause I love you so.

  When you’re a breath away,

  We’re all alone,

  My soul knows peace,

  My heart knows home.

  Several women screamed. The melody was touching: his vocals were exquisitely tender. Libby imagined the heartfelt words made every woman’s heart swell.

  Somewhere deep in my soul,

  there’s a place you live

  and I want to call it home.

  I’ve never known this kind of love,

  and only you can take me to

  the man I want to become.

  Libby joined the audience, scanning the crowd looking for the lucky woman on the receiving in of Joe’s shootout. Several drunken neighbors expressed their disapproval and protested Joe’s dedication, much to Libby’s disgust. She decided to move around the room to shoot from different angles.

  * * *

  The last songs of the set were fast numbers. The night was passing quickly.

  Another ricocheting gunshot rang out across the bar. Again, waitresses entered the room with trays, one in particular for the brothers that included a note.

  “Well…this is different,” Joe began. “I’ve never had a phoned-in shootout. Can you do that, Chuck? Can you phone-in a shoot-out?”

  “Any excuse to drink, I say,” Chuck shrugged.