by Jim Cangany
"Time for more schmoozing and photo ops. If I'm not mistaken, this is our first official appearance as an engaged couple. Shall we, dear fiancé?"
After a long drag of water, I stood, offered Annie my elbow, and we worked the crowd. Annie was amazing—posing for pictures, laughing at guests' jokes. I spent the time nodding and smiling and battling a nerves-induced perpetual dry mouth. It was amazing to watch her in action, though. The consummate pro, she was engaged, attentive, and had the guests wrapped around her pinky finger.
The only star who shined brighter that evening was Staci.
A little camera shy at first, by the time Annie disappeared to warm up for her performance with the band, Staci was trading stories with some industry pros like they were long-time friends. Someone had given her a Sharpie and she was practically skipping from guest to guest autographing their heads. The bald ones, that is.
Staci's mom had moved to her friends' parents table, so I pulled up a chair with my cronies when Annie joined the band onstage.
"Wow, what a night. Thank you all for celebrating my birthday with me. You know, it wasn't too long ago that the thought of another birthday meant I was inching closer to the dreaded four-oh. I'll admit it, I look at things a little bit differently now." She ran her hand over her head. There was a gloss to it from the overhead lights.
"With what I'm going through, from now on I'll take all the birthdays I can get, thank you very much." She chuckled. "Seriously though, I don't want tonight to be about me. Tonight's a celebration of life, so in that vein, please remember to bid on the silent auction items on the table over there. All the money raised will go to cancer care and prevention initiatives."
While the crowd applauded, Annie plugged her guitar in and strummed a few chords. "I'm a little out of practice. Had a few other things on my mind recently."
"You mean E.J. hasn't driven you out of your mind?" Miranda hollered.
Annie rolled her eyes. "No Randi, he hasn't. Yet. Anyway, we're going to keep it pretty loosey-goosey up here tonight. And if there are any screw ups, it's on me, not my wonderful band mates. Let's start off with something fun. How about 'Around the World.' Count us off Ash."
In all my years of following her, I'd never seen, or heard of, Cassandra Lawrence performing an acoustic set with her band. When she'd done her acoustic show a couple of Thanksgivings ago, she'd performed solo. But there she was, my beloved, perched on a stool with her guitar Nancy in hand. It was almost as if she was jamming with her band mates in someone's garage rather than a fancy fundraiser.
It didn't take long before Staci and her friends had gravitated toward the stage and were dancing to the music. It was a sight to behold. Between those on stage and those on the dance floor, every head was as smooth as a cue ball. After a few songs, Miranda even coaxed Ryan into joining the revelers.
"I've got the energy for one more before we call it quits for the night," Annie said after the band finished "Where are You," the top bidder's pick. She took a long drink of water and tuned her guitar. "You all look great in your bald heads, by the way. Staci and I appreciate it, don't we?"
Annie's young friend bounced on her toes and clapped.
"We've got a little problem up here, though, don't we Beth?"
"A serious problem."
"It seems as though Beth has a touch of laryngitis tonight and isn't up to singing harmony with me on this next tune. I can't do it without the harmony. Anybody got any suggestions?"
"Maybe someone from the crowd can help out," Amy said.
Annie made a leisurely scan of the crowd, clearly playing up the moment. Her head turned as her gaze went back and forth over the gathering, until she broke into a wide grin and nodded.
"Good idea Amy. I found my helper. Staci, would you care to help us out on 'Rock Awhile?'"
Even from my vantage point near the back of the room, I could feel Staci's excitement as she hugged one of her friends and bopped on stage. Annie embraced her and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and took a tambourine from Tisha. Once the applause died down, Annie draped her arm around Staci.
"Tonight we're celebrating, so I don't want to bring down the party by getting preachy. I'll simply say on behalf of people like Staci and me, thank you."
A ripple of applause ran through the crowd.
"All right, everybody. Let's rock awhile."
Annie tore into the song as aggressively as she always did. By the time the rest of the band joined in, the dance floor was full. Staci kept time with the tambourine and bounced from band member to band member when she wasn't sharing the microphone with Annie to sing her harmony parts.
During a show, Cassandra normally led the crowd in a sing-along to the chorus by raising her arms above her head and clapping to Ashley's pounding beat. This time, Staci did it.
The assembled group clapped along to Staci's rhythmic tambourine use and sang along with Annie.
Come on baby,
Do you wanna rock?
Do you wanna rock awhile
With me?
Come on baby
It's time to rock.
It's time to rock awhile
With me.
The band ripped into the final verse, with everyone in the room standing and keeping time. Once again, Annie had proven she was a master of her art.
At the song's conclusion, dozens of phone cameras flashed as the band took their bow, with Staci arm-in-arm between Annie and Beth. It was tough to tell who had wider grins, my fiancé or her teen friend. As they stepped off the stage, a reporter approached them, recorder in hand. While Annie answered questions, I perused the silent auction table. The bids were eye-popping. Annie's and Staci's charities were having a very good night.
A little later, I was refereeing a debate between Dave and Ryan about who had a greater net worth, Tony Stark or Bruce Wayne, when Annie slipped her arm around me.
"It's been a wonderful evening Mr. McCarty, but we should be going before I turn into a pumpkin."
It was almost eleven and Annie had her seventh chemo appointment in the morning. I kissed her hand and stood.
"Do you need to say a few more words before we go?"
"No. We've got the place until one. Let the revelers stay. I've made the goodbyes I needed and have the car waiting."
Between the Grand Hall front door and the limo, we were subjected to a couple of photographers who evidently had been waiting for us. Annie flashed a winning smile for the cameras without ever breaking stride. Once we were settled into the luxurious black leather seats, she kicked off her shoes and laid her legs across my lap. The sparkly red toenail polish made me chuckle as I massaged her feet.
"Little out of practice on the heels end, huh?"
"You could say that." Her eyes were closed and her lips were curled up a touch. She wriggled her toes. "Thanks for tonight."
"My pleasure. Hope I didn't make any missteps."
"You were magnificent." She sat up and crawled into my lap. With her index finger, she traced my jaw line. I shivered. "You're not cold are you?"
"Far from it."
I brought her lips to mine. Fireworks went off inside me when they touched. Annie purred when I began nibbling on her earlobe. My hands had wandered to the zipper of her dress when there was a knock on the glass that separated us from the driver.
"Damn. I thought we were going get to recreate the limo trip in Dublin." She slipped out of my lap and put her shoes on. At the press of a button, the window came down. "Yes, Jeffrey?"
"We're almost to your residence, Ms. Lawrence."
"Very good, thank you." She leaned in close and whispered in my ear. "Shall we continue the party inside?"
Twelve
I was adjusting the brakes on the Truckster when the garage light came on and the door rumbled upward. Annie and Miranda pulled in, with Florence & The Machine blaring from the stereo system. Miranda cut the engine and silence returned. Since Annie was being given Benadryl when the Taxol was being infused, she wasn't sup
posed to drive after these treatments.
While the ladies gathered their things and said their goodbyes, I grabbed a Sharpie and waited for her at the door.
"Time to mark off number seven?"
She took the marker and gave me a peck on the cheek. When she pulled back, she was frowning.
"What's wrong?"
Without responding, she opened the door and headed inside.
I followed her. "Annie?"
Letting out a long sigh, she plopped on the couch and closed her eyes. "Before you panic, I'm fine. Just a little frustrated right now."
"Was there a problem with the infusion or the blood draw?"
She sat up. "No. Dr. Hill and Therese teased me unmercifully about last night, though. They said to tell you you're better looking bald."
I ran my fingers through my hair. "I work very hard at not taking care of this. I'll keep it, thank you."
She laughed. "That's what I told them."
"What's wrong then?"
"Promise you won't laugh?" When I nodded, she pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to me.
It was an article she'd cut out of the newspaper, with a picture of Annie and Staci hugging, under a write-up about last night's party. It was one of those society-type reports that dropped names while barely mentioning the reason for the occasion. After a perusal of it, I looked at Annie and shrugged.
"So it's a fluff piece, what's wrong with that?"
She tapped the picture with her finger. "Read the caption to me."
"'Entertainer Cassandra Lawrence and her young friend Staci Cleary remind the crowd that bald is beautiful.' Okay, so what's wrong with that?"
Annie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "You don't get it, but that's not your fault." She went to the table and fired up her computer. "Have you checked my Google alerts today?"
"No, sorry."
"That's all right. Staci and I did during our treatments. There were over a dozen blurbs about last night and virtually all they talked about was what I wore and how great I looked."
"Well, you did look great."
"Thank you, but that's not what last night was about. It was about celebrating life and raising money for cancer treatment and prevention programs." Her voice was rising. Annie was getting on a roll and it was time to get out of the way and let her vent.
"We raised a hundred and thirty thousand dollars last night, but did the reports mention that? No. You know what every single report did mention? The color of my dress. Why does what I was wearing matter so much?
"God, I get so sick of being judged by my appearance, just because I'm a woman. Judge me for what I do and who I am, not what I look like. Do you have any idea how hard I've worked to be judged in the music world by my talent and not by my alleged sex appeal?"
"I know you've worked very hard at your art."
"Damn right I have." She grabbed her computer and punched a few keys on her keyboard so hard I was afraid they'd break. "So I like to look good on stage. Is there anything wrong with that? Just because I like to wear heels and dress like a woman shouldn't mean I'm not a serious artist. I mean, Dave Mathews is always in jeans and a t-shirt, but nobody questions his artistic cred."
She brought the computer to me and shoved it at my chest. "Read that."
I eased into my recliner and did as directed. The piece was a glowing report on last night's festivities. It gushed about how elegant the setting was. The food was sumptuous. The floral arrangements were delightful. And despite being in a battle for her life, Cassandra Lawrence looked stunning.
Staci was mentioned in passing. The fundraiser part was left out entirely. But Cassandra—her dress, her shoes and even her bracelet were mentioned.
From my seat, I looked up at Annie. "Good thing the reporter didn't follow you into the bathroom, or she might have reported on what color of underwear you were wearing."
She snorted and slapped me on the shoulder. "Lord, you are such a dork."
The tension broken, I got up and gave Annie a hug.
"I know double standards suck. But the people who know you know you're much more than a pretty face. Your fans know, too."
She tried to turn away, but I stopped her.
"Seriously. I won't deny there have been guys at your shows just because their girlfriends brought them or because they thought you're hot. But, swear to God, by the end of your shows, those guys were always the ones saying, 'Damn, she's good.'"
If Annie would have had eyebrows, she would have raised them. "So were you ever one of those guys?"
I chuckled at the memory. "Yes, actually. I'll tell you about it as soon as you mark number seven off on the fridge."
With a grin, she went to the fridge. "Drum roll please."
I drummed my fingers on the counter while Annie drew an X over the box that contained the number seven. With a flourish, she capped the marker and bowed.
"This story of yours better be good."
"Have I ever told you one that wasn't?"
I grabbed a couple of flavored waters from the fridge and led her to the patio. We sat and sipped the drinks. The May sunshine warmed my face. Robins darted among the trees on the other side of the trail.
The quiet moment gave me a chance to do a little inventory of my North Star. The cumulative effects of the chemo were gaining on her. Despite her efforts to maintain her energy level by eating right and exercising, she tired more easily every day. Dark circles had taken up permanent residence under her eyes. A shirt that had once been form-fitting now hung loosely on her. A picture of fitness before her diagnosis, she'd dropped almost fifteen pounds, very little of which she'd needed to lose.
While her skin still had the light perma-tan look, it had lost its sheen. The lip gloss she'd worn last night was gone and a few cracks in her lips were visible. Annie had insisted they didn't hurt, but I handed her the spare lip balm I always kept on hand.
She rolled some on and took a drink. There was an unmistakable wince as she swallowed. Her throat was sore more often than not these days, and her singing last night couldn't have helped.
When she returned the lip balm to me, she squeezed my hand. "I know what you're thinking."
"Oh really?"
"Yep, one of the unintended benefits of cancer. I can read minds."
"At least ones as simple as mine, right?"
She tried to force a grin, but evidently couldn't and turned to look out over the trail. "You made it pretty easy, given you were looking at me the exact same way that Doctor Hill was today. I know I look like hell—"
"You don't—"
She put her hand up, stop sign style. "E.J. please. The weight loss, the headaches, the sore throat. I know it doesn't look good, but the doctor promises me I'm getting better. She can barely feel the larger tumor and she can't find the smaller one at all."
I let out a long breath. An invisible ten-ton weight slipped off my shoulders. "That's great."
Annie ran her tongue over her lips. "Yes, yes it is. The next few weeks may be tough, but I'm almost home. For this part at least."
"Can I come with you for your final round? It'd mean an awful lot to be by your side when you ring out."
"You'd better. I'm not ringing out without you. Now, about this story you promised me."
The sunshine and Annie's reassurance settled over me like a warm blanket on a cold night. The worry that was always trying to fight to the front of my thoughts was shuffled to the far corners of my mind. For the moment, at least.
"You know about the night I first saw you in Who's In Charge? Right? Back then, I didn't know you were a musician too. But from the first time I heard "Rock Awhile," I was an instant convert to your music. Your first tour included a stop in Bloomington. I was there. You played The Bluebird and blew my socks off. You were smokin' hot, and you still are by the way, but your guitar playing totally hooked me."
I snapped my fingers. "I've got something to show you." I rushed to the spare bedroom and moved a few things in th
e closet around until I found what I was looking for. I sprinted back to the patio and returned to my seat, breathing heavily from the sudden exertion.
I flipped open a battered cardboard box and started digging through it.
"E.J. McCarty, what are you doing?"
"Yes! Here it is." I pulled out a dog-eared and faded ticket stub and handed it to her. "That's the show. That's the night that taught me how great of a songwriter and guitarist you are. You didn't have all the bells and whistles you use on tour now, but Good God, you were amazing."
She stared at the ticket, apparently lost in her own thoughts. When she spoke, she shook her head. "I wish I could tell you I remember this show, but..."
"That's okay. It's one of hundreds you've done over the years. I couldn't give you the details anymore, myself. I remember that after 'Rock Awhile', you got the biggest response when you did 'In and Out'."
Annie looked down and rubbed her forehead. "I'll never live that song down. Do you have any idea how much criticism I've gotten for it?"
As a member of Cassie's Crew, I was familiar with all of Annie's songs. What their origins were, where they'd been recorded, things like that. "In and Out" was, according to Annie, a tongue in cheek story of a weekend she'd attempted, unsuccessfully, to take care of a stray cat. She'd turned that frustration into a song that her detractors had insisted was a thinly veiled nod to a wild, one night stand.
In defiance of the critics, she'd kept the song in her shows. Over the years, it had become a fan favorite, to the point that she couldn't not play it. These days, to drive her point home, she always ended the song by unfurling a giant picture of a fuzzy white kitten.
"Some people just can't take a joke. Anyway, from that point on, whenever your name came up, the first thing I'd always talk about was your song writing. Second was your guitar playing. Third, your amazing voice. Your looks always came after that. To this day, I've always thought of you as an incredibly gifted artist first and foremost."
She looked me, her eyes a little misty. "There you go again, saying the nicest things."
I shrugged. "Just speaking the truth."
She blinked a couple of times and her lips curled up slightly. "So is that your creepy Cassandra Lawrence obsession box?"