Chapter 12
Absolutely Perfect End To A Tumultuous Week
An hour later I was lying in bed, a hot decaffeinated herbal tea with a spoonful of honey inside it in my hands, the members of my band sitting around the edge of the mattress, offering moral support and instructions on how to help heal my voice.
"Drink, Tennessee," Gus advised. "The heat and the honey will soothe your throat, and the hydration is essential to start the healing."
"Yeah, rest easy for now, but in an hour, we'll start some low-volume vocal exercises to massage your cords back into shape," Gonzo added.
"It won't be permanent," Spike threw in. "Now, if you'd screamed for ten minutes straight, that'd be a different matter altogether."
I smiled weakly at them, feeling like an utter tool. Truth was my throat was beginning to feel better already, I hadn't spoken since "the scream" even when Nick came crashing through the door, scaring the shit out of me and Cary, and glaring daggers at both Derek and Ben. Even when they all began shouting at each other and Dad, bless his soul, picked up the TV remote and threw it against the far wall, sacrificing it by making it shatter, which made the men all stop arguing and stare at him stunned.
With the type of tone only a father could have, he'd said, "I am very disappointed in all of you. Can't you see there is more going on here than your right to my daughter's heart?"
And on that extremely unexpected and entirely too cognisant statement, he wheeled himself from the room. I was so proud of that exit. And despite the whole scene playing out in front of me, I'd been rather touched by his words and the fact he'd bothered to say them at all.
Cary humphed in agreement and helped lead me from the room directly to my bed, where he proceeded to fuss over me and brilliantly thought to ring the band. I could still hear low voices out in the lounge as he did it, but although they still seemed to be arguing, they were no longer shouting at each other and demanding another fist fight. However, whether that happened or not is debatable, by the time the band turned up and I asked them if anyone was out in the other room, the men had all disappeared. So, I suppose they could have gone off somewhere else and drawn pistols or crossed swords or done whatever they needed to do to prove themselves men. I was picturing clubs, by the caveman like behaviour all three of them had displayed.
Which brought me to Ben's incredibly inaccurate words and why the darn hell he'd said them. Sure, Nick was his boss and Derek was pissing him off, but did he have to lie about it and make me look like a two-timing slut in front of a good man? Not that Derek was still under the column in my mind that classified him as "good" right now. The whole "You need to pack your bags and get ready to head out to the airport" demand and the explosive declarations of " You gotta know, Eva baby, that I want you in my home, in my bed" had kind of put paid to that.
Who says that sort of thing?
Cowboys. That's who. And for a cowgirl who never cried, I sure as darn hell came close to it several times in the past hour. What an utter clusterfuck. And to top it all off it was Sweet Seduction's grand opening showcase local talent night and I had temporarily lost my voice.
I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that none of this had happened. That I was at a concert instead, watching Garth Brooks perform live, floating on a cloud as the words to his beautiful songs reached my very soul. The conversation around the bed had ceased, which helped me to fall a little further into the daydream.
And then Gus started strumming the Breedlove.
Gus is not a Garth Brooks aficionado like me, he's more into Lonestar, so the opening chords to Amazed broke into my Garth Brooks fantasy, but when all three of my temporary band began to serenade me, singing the words to Lonestar's number one hit single in harmony, I didn't much mind the interruption at all. My real band, back home in Nashville, would never have sat around my bed and sung me a song like this while they waited for my voice to heal for an important performance that night.
I felt hot tears roll down my cheeks as I listened to their beautiful voices and the even more beautiful words, "I wanna spend the rest of my life, with you by my side, forever and ever" and I decided that I wanted to spend the rest of mine singing with these guys.
Which was a shock to the system, to say the least. And yet another thing to have to come to terms with inside my messed up, scrambled head. Nashville had been home for eight years. I loved it. I loved living in the middle of a Country singer's Mecca. But all of a sudden, with these guys singing around my bed and my best friend Cary watching from the corner, mist in his own rounded eyes, Nashville felt so very far, far away.
And I felt like I might be home.
I didn't know how to process that. I truly didn't. I had run away from Auckland, from my upbringing, from my less than perfect childhood. I'd escaped into Country music heaven and I'd had a blast. It had been, while not everything I had dreamt it would be, at the very least fun. Right down to the line of cowboys I left behind me as I strutted my cowgirl boots across various stages in town.
But although the part of my heart that was musical had been in Country paradise, the part of my heart that was lovelorn had been left behind in New Zealand. And it was obvious that my band in Nashville had never filled the gap left by my absent heart. They had only provided a bandage to cover it with. Looking at Gus and Gonzo, two guys I'd known for years, and Spike who was quickly becoming one of my musical family with his easy ways and quick wit, I wondered if I could do it with these guys by my side. I wondered if I could mend my missing heart and actually live again.
Slow down and smell the roses. Take time out to enjoy the ride, instead of trying to beat it. Allow a few good men to be a part of my life, to open up and truly let them in under my skin. If I could do that, then maybe, just maybe, I could fill the gap inside with something great. And even though it scared me to the point of shaking, I wondered if that something great could be Nick.
By the time the band finished their rendition of Amazed, I was more than ready to get prepared for tonight's performance. Because it was even more important than it had been before. Because if I stayed, we'd need the jobs the show could elicit for us. And because if Derek hadn't caught his flight already and came to the show for one last chance, I would have to do what I should have done the minute I saw him. Apologise, tell him he was a good cowboy and deserved a good cowgirl back home, and send him packing.
And then, I would tell Nick that he was definitely my perfect cowboy and he didn't need to follow me to Nashville, because I wasn't going anywhere ever again.
"Thanks guys," I said, wiping at the tears on my cheeks.
"Aw, Eva. Cowgirls don't cry!" Spike said, but he was smiling while he said it.
"Casey does," Gus added. "And she's cowgirl through and through."
"That she is," Gonzo nodded in agreement. "Cowgirls cry when they're meant to. When songs are sung that melt the heart."
"Jeez. Too poetic, dude," Spike muttered.
"You're a heathen," Gonzo threw back.
"I'm a realist," Spike argued.
"No soul," Gonzo declared.
"Dude! I'm full of soul. Or so Kelly tells me."
"She wasn't talkin' 'bout you being full of soul, Spike," Gonzo said patiently. "She was talkin' 'bout you being full of..."
"Hey, wanna be my band forever?" I blurted out, causing all the men to turn and stare at me. Gus actually blinked a couple of times.
"Come again, Tennessee?" Gus asked.
"Well, you know, if you don't have any plans already. Do you want to stay together and sing Country for as long as we can?" I asked, feeling a little nervous.
"You sayin' what I think your sayin'?" Gonzo asked slowly.
"What do you think I'm saying?" I asked back just as slowly.
"You're not going back to Nashville," Gonzo clarified and my eyes shot to Cary's in the corner.
I really hadn't planned this out right. Cary looked stunned.
"Um..." I said, but Cary interrupted.
"That's a gr
eat idea, sweetie. It's time to come home." He looked sad, but was putting on a brave face. My sudden decision left me feeling hollow, when I realised it meant no more Cary.
Is this what growing up finally felt like? The knowledge you'd made the right decision, but the pain that came with it cleaving your heart in two?
"Cary," I said, but the words stuck in my still slightly sore throat.
"I'll miss you too, cowgirl," he whispered and then excused himself and got up to leave the room, mumbling he was going to check on my Dad for me.
The guys were all silent for a while, clearly picking up on the unhappy vibes in the room, then Spike said, "I'm up for playing together as long as the music lasts."
"Me too," said Gus with enthusiasm.
"Me three," added Gonzo, high fiving Gus above my bed.
The next hour was given over to some low-volume vocal exercises, Gus leading me through them, the other guys adding encouragement here and there. Cary didn't come back in the room during the entire practice. After an hour of that, I started strumming my guitar and we segued into a few of the numbers planned for that night. Although my voice still felt a little rough around the edges, my throat no longer hurt and the guys all thought it added a little smoky to my vocals that went well with our style of Country.
By three the guys headed off to meet me at Sweet Seduction just after four. I managed a bite to eat finally, had a shower and got myself dressed for the night. I decided on a dark brown Pocohontas T-Shirt material dress that came to a couple of inches above my knee. It had some delicate Native American stitching around the elasticised empire waist and edging the scooped neckline. And a lovely feather-like design coming down from the middle of my waistband, splaying out in a complementary colourful pattern across my stomach. It had short capped sleeves and a slightly A-framed shaped skirt, but as it was in T-Shirt material, it hung nicely, losing that shape in its natural folds. I teamed it with dark brown below knee cowgirl boots and a dark brown Bullhide cowgirl hat. As far as outfits went it was simple enough, but sometimes the simple ones say the most.
A few minutes given over to peaches and cream lotion, a smattering of make-up and my hair loose down my back, slightly wavy due to being in a braid all day. It could be a pain out free during a performance, it took a little extra care to keep it in line, yet make it seem carefree, but for special occasions it was worth it. Tonight was a special occasion for so many reasons.
Aunty Jessie was in the lounge when I came out and much to my surprise so was Ben. His arms crossed over chest, scowl-in-place expression, as he stood sentinel at the front door, kept any snarky words Jessie may have had to a minimum. She did manage to get one or two in though, of course.
"You better not be too late tonight, Missy." I noticed in front of Ben she'd dropped the "Hoity-Toity". I was quite OK with that. "I have a big day planned tomorrow."
"She'll be home when she gets home," Dad muttered, stunning the ever-lovin' crap out of me.
Jessie glared at him for a second, then turned an even harder look on me.
"I see," she said ominously, but Ben just grunted over my shoulder, reached forward and took my Breedlove case from my hands and opened up the front door. Making it obvious he didn't think much of Jessie's comment.
"OK, see ya, Dad," I said cheerfully, just to grate on Aunty Jessie's nerves. It worked, her glare turned Arctic.
Cary threw me a smirk as he walked out of the kitchen, dressed and ready for the night, but my eyes shifted to Dad when he said softly from the couch, "Sing Wrapped Up In You for me, would you, girl?"
I stared at the small, obviously fading body of my father on the couch, who'd just asked me to sing one of Garth Brooks' truly most cutest and loveliest love songs - for him. A song that spoke of how his love for a special someone supports him through the hard times, and how without her love his life would be sad and lonely. It was a quirky song and not on my play list. It hadn't been written by Garth, but by Wayne Kirkpatrick, for Garth instead, so hadn't been one of my favourites. I did love some of the lyrics though, especially, "How do I love thee, well let me see, I love you like a lyric loves a melody."
I decided then and there that it would be one of my encores, a solo by me without the band, sung for my dying Dad.
"Sure, Dad," I said through a thick throat. "I'll sing it for you."
He grunted, leaned forward and picked up his Lipton Tea to drink, eyes on the TV before him.
It took the entire trip into Sweet Seduction in Ben's SUV to get myself under control. Neither Ben nor Cary said a word, Cary offering a small squeeze of my shoulder from the rear seat, Ben's eyes resolutely on the road ahead. By the time we pulled up outside the store though, my eyes were clear and my throat no longer thick. I'd had to think of all manner of things to get that way, and none of them had to do with my father, or Country music, or the song Wrapped Up In You. I think a little American football featured there for a bit and the comparisons - or not - between that sport and New Zealand's national game, rugby. It seemed to do the trick.
The band was already there setting up, Sweet Seduction closed to the public for a few hours - earlier than normal on a Saturday - but of course opening up at seven for early entry to the venue, pre-performance drinks and chocolate treats, and the show itself planned for eight. I walked in and found Gen and Kelly hard at work rearranging the coffee lounge area, Lucas the barista working behind the huge espresso machine - which would be switched off during songs - and Jane and Karla, the two additional Sweet Seduction staff, refilling the refrigerated chocolate cabinets and stacked take-away cups.
I shouted out - well not shouted, I was still being careful of my voice, but did wave and say loudly - "Hi!" Then headed over to the band, after thanking Ben. Who I noticed settled in with a coffee from Lucas in the front corner of the store, where he could see the street, the front doors and me across the room. I guess bodyguard duty didn't stop just because I'd entered the video camera inner sanctum of Sweet Seduction. That made me look up at the ceiling trying to spot the cameras, which I couldn't and it only pissed me off.
"You won't see them," Kelly remarked as she shifted furniture near the stage. "I work here Monday to Friday and I've still only found the one out in the dungeon."
"The dungeon?" I asked, puzzled.
"Music cave, dungeon." She shrugged. "Where the LPs and CDs are."
Oh. Cool.
"You don't mind them?" I asked, holding a power cord for Spike who was down on his knees trying to connect an amp.
"You get used to it. The first few days I knew they were there I constantly wanted to scratch my butt, but kept having to stop myself."
I felt myself smile. "And now?"
Kelly's smile back was mischievous. "Now, I make sure I have to adjust my bra strap at least a dozen times a day. Flashing only a hint of skin, of course," she added with a wink.
I laughed, I could just imagine whoever kept an eye on the screens at ASI trying to adjust the camera angle to get a better view and failing miserably because of Kelly's careful "flashing".
"Tease," I said through a cough.
"Better believe it," came Kelly's answer as she sashayed off to another task across the room. I had to whack Spike on the head with the power cord when he stared at her wiggling butt the entire way.
An hour before the show, with everything well and truly ready to go, the band and I headed out to the office out the back, to have a break, black-with-hot-pink-and-white-writing take-away coffee cups in hand, as the doors were thrown open for the public. Gen wasn't expecting too many until closer to the time, but twenty minutes in, a frantic Jane came out the back and grabbed more coffee cups mumbling something about a stampede.
The build-up to a performance is different for every singer or band I should think. I like a little quiet time to reflect, low conversation, a couple of jokes between the guys and I. Back in Nashville the band was intensely serious about warm-ups and vocal exercises, and although I didn't really mind it - actually thought it not an
entirely bad idea - I preferred Gus, Gonzo and Spike's routine. Practice hard out for the weeks leading up to the show, then on the day you just cruise. We'd sung a few songs at my place earlier, we'd tuned our instruments and had a little sound check out in the room before the doors opened. And now we just sat around drinking decaf coffee - caffeine constricts the vocal cords - and talked utter crap.
It was great. I loved it, and for the first time in a long time I felt at ease as we walked out to an obviously packed Sweet Seduction, the sound of excited voices and happy noises meeting our ears as we walked toward the back of the stage. I'd been relaxed, but the excitement of a pending performance and room full of a - hopefully - receptive audience made my heart skip a beat and toes start to tap. This was the best moment of it all. The anticipation. The build-up to the actual event.
The moment I stepped out on that stage I'd assume a persona, I'd perform. Who the audience saw on stage was not entirely me, but she wasn't far off. She was just a little more confident, a little more sassy, and a whole lot more cowgirl-in-the-rodeo-ring.
I held back as the guys went out to their spots, a few people clapped, some people shushed others and by the time they started the first few chords and I stepped out, the room was already in our thrall.
We did our thing. We pulled them in. We played with our hearts and souls behind every note, every word. We told stories about love lost and heartache, we sang melodies to soothe the pain, and then we changed it up and made them laugh. Country music can make you cry, can make you feel uplifted and with a tongue-in-cheek humour, that I truly believe only cowboys can master, can make you laugh.
By the end of the show, two and half hours of hard out performing our little Country tushes off, we'd done it. We'd impressed the darn hell out of the packed room, we'd made them dance and sing, sway and clap, shout and whistle. I wasn't sure who they all were, but Gen was beaming, giving a double thumbs up at the end to let me know it had gone better than expected and the crowd was calling for more.
We came back and did two more songs as a band, but still that wasn't enough. So, I told the guys to leave it to me, I had a song request from my Dad and this was the ideal opportunity. They all smiled and took surreptitious positions to the side of the stage to watch me do my solo.
Sweet Seduction Serenade Page 13