by Layne, Sandi
“Thank you!” Mac grinned and tried to ignore the sudden, nervous thump of her heart. This was now officially a responsibility and that meant something. But if she played it too heavy, it would overshadow her joy in the music, in what she loved doing, so she had to keep it light.
Intuition had her darting a look to Derek, who seemed to be in tune with her as he often was when they were bantering back and forth. No smile curved his lips, though. He nodded in comprehension of her mild attack of nerves. Just knowing he got it—got her and knew what to do even though they hadn’t even spoken—soothed her considerably.
That was excellent, actually.
An hour or so later, she was shaking out her hands and subconsciously bouncing to her inner repetition of the last song they’d played. Water bottles were out and about, and everyone was taking a breather. A flash of brilliant, deep red hair meant Derek was moving to the cooler, snagging a couple of bottles to offer her one with a smile as he wove through the girls on his way to her.
“Thank you,” she said, nodding when he opened her bottle for her before handing it over. She took a long swallow. “I know I don’t sing much, but I’m still dry as sandpaper.” Mmm, sandpaper . . . Her gaze glanced off his jaw and she smiled a little as she took another drink of water.
“Hands tired?” he asked.
“Yeah. And my forearm if you can believe it. Fret tension on the bass can be . . . some work.”
“Something I’d like to do sometime, maybe . . .” he drawled, studying her with a wistful cast to his features.
“Yes?” she prompted, gesturing with her water bottle.
The color that crept up his throat surprised her. “I’d love to play with you, sometime. I’ve got that harmonica, and you could choose whichever of your instruments, but . . . I just thought it’d be fun, you know?”
Delight sparked up and down her spine. “We could make beautiful music together or something?”
“That was too corny even for me.” His laugh was nearly tangible. “But, you know, we can be creative.”
“Brave, bold, and daring, too,” she added with a wink.
“Three minutes!” Val called to the room at large.
Nodding, Mac tossed back the rest of her water. “I’d like that. After we get back from Mississippi?”
He took her empty bottle from her. “It’s a date.”
* * *
“Mac?” C.C. popped her head into Mac’s bunk on their way to Mississippi. It was evening, and the band overall had been a bit subdued. “Have you seen my other sticks? I can’t find the back-up pair!”
Sticks were up there with oxygen, Mac understood. “Nope. I’ll help you look. Where did you have them last?”
There followed a tale that made Mac snort on her own hair, so she braided it to get it out of her face while they poked about looking for C.C.’s drumsticks. “You let him do what? Cecilia DeVera! Your Lola Nene would stare!”
C.C. brushed her fingertips over the heart-shaped tattoo that honored her grandmother on her wrist. “No, she’d just tell me to make sure I have more than one back-up set of sticks.”
“Do you?”
C.C. shot her an exasperated look. “Yes! Of course!”
Mac just stared at her, going for patient but didn’t know if it came off very well. After a moment, C.C. narrowed her eyes in thought and flashed a grin. “I remember where they are, now!”
“I should write a blog,” Mac muttered as she climbed back into her bunk. “The Trials and Tribulations of Touring.”
“Nope, Honey Glory already does that,” Cinnamon called from across the aisle. “And they’ll be in Nashville, too.”
“One less thing,” Mac called back, tucking her pillow under her head.
Her phone alerted her to a text message from Micah.
Micah: Hey, your boyfriend’s here. He and Beth have decided to be BFFs or something. I told them about our ice cream.
Mac: If my chocolate chip is gone, we will have WORDS. Many of them. Punctuated with ICE.
Micah: I’ll protect the choc. chip. if you tell me why he crashed my date.
Mac: I think he likes you. Or he wants to pick your brain about your twin. Just keep him out of my room and away from my ice cream.
Micah: Does this mean you and Beth are going to get manicures or something?
Mac: I don’t do manicures, but you can do one with her if you want and I’ll take pics.
Micah: Ha. He gets points for not making me mingle with otherpeoplescooties. Oh wait. Answer your phone, I think he’s calling.
Sure enough, Derek’s face flashed on her screen. She’d taken the picture after rehearsal the day before. “Hey,” she said, surprising herself with how her voice, totally without her prior intent, went all soft. She usually went for playful. “I hear you’re crashing Micah’s date.”
“Oh, is that what he said?” He snorted and called out, “Thanks a lot!” away from the phone.
When her brother called something back, Mac couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped.
It was a sound that garnered the attention of little Madison, who was stretching her legs and peeking into any open bunks on the sleeping section of their tour bus. Mac waved at the girl before winking and sliding her curtain closed.
“So, crashing my brother’s date?” she asked Derek.
“Um, yeah. I guess maybe I did. It was a bit impulsive, but I know he keeps weird hours, so I thought it’d be okay.”
“I think it is,” she told him. “He’s just surprised. So, life is boring without me or something?”
His sigh surprised her a little. “Maybe?”
Color heated her cheeks and her heart felt like it turned over in her chest. I can be brave. “I miss you. Might sound stupid,” she went on, “seeing as how we don’t really have a lot of actual face time in the real world, but I miss you.”
“You, too. And I don’t think I ever thanked you for texting me that night.”
He sounded uncomfortable and that made her uncomfortable as well when she responded. “Oh? No, I don’t think you did, but . . . why?”
She heard a huge puff of air before he said, “Hang on, let me get away from prying eyes and ears, yeah?”
“Well, you are at my place, right? You can go to the loft on the upper floor, just at the head of the stairs. I mean, we consider it a safe zone, even though you can hear everything so keep your voice down.”
“Mike!” he called, “I’m taking this to the loft!” Derek must have muffled the phone. Maybe Micah was being a jerk or something? Could happen. Then, she could hear him clearly once again. “He reminded me,” Derek muttered, “that couples need alone time.”
She heard him, of course. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just puffing.”
“Puffing?”
“You know, venting hot air?”
“Ah, okay. I’m here now and the view is spectacular.”
“Glad you like it. So, where were we?” She remembered exactly where they’d been, conversationally, but she figured she’d let him run with it since he’d brought it up in the first place.
“Right. Thank you for texting me. For, for working at it. I—”
Something in his tone sliced through her in her private little bunk on the bus, and it made her voice uncharacteristically quiet. “I . . . I figured you were worth it.”
“Thank you. You are, too. I just think it would have taken me a longer to—” He cleared his throat and coughed and sounded all kinds of awkward as he continued. “To convince myself that it could work. Mira-Mira, you’re important. Never doubt that. It’s just that I didn’t know how important until you weren’t within, what, cellular range?”
Though her arms felt empty, she tried to laugh. More than anything, she realized she wanted to hug him; this was odd, as she wasn’t normally a hugging sort of person. “So, you’re slow, is what you’re saying?” she asked by way of trying to ease over her own emotional discomfort and, hopefully, let him know his could be over, too.
> “Compared to you? Absolutely.”
“Are you smiling yet?”
His chuckle warmed her empty arms. “I am, thank you.”
There was silence for a minute or two and Mac spent it smiling with her whole face. Then, she thought wistfully of the time it would be before she saw him again—days, but they seemed especially long, at the moment—and sighed out a breath. “So. You mentioned making beautiful music together?”
“Oh, yeah. Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be a problem, do you?”
Her skin heated again, and she bit her lip. “Um, no. Probably not. But, you know, we’ll need practice.”
His voice was low when, after another silent span of time, he said, “We’ll have it.”
“Good.”
* * *
“Sound check!”
Mac met one of the sound engineers after Val reported that the crew was ready to get their cues and such. “I’m Mac,” she said by way of introduction.
“Stacy,” the woman returned, her smile brief and distracted as they shook hands. “You’re on bass guitar.” Mac saw that the woman had a chart. She’d seen the advance Val sent to the Misses-Sip weeks before, so she knew that the sound crew would have everything in order. “You’re over to the right of the drums?” Stacy asked in an accent that sounded more like Georgia than anyplace else.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mac couldn’t help answering. Stacy gave off the impression of being someone used to commanding respect. From the top of her short blond hair to the soles of her ratty Converse tennis shoes, she was clearly a woman in charge of her environment. Mac totally appreciated that. “What do you need from me?”
“Well, we’re right now basically doing an equipment check more than anything else. There’s a lot to process, as you can see.” Mac saw one of the crew from Sassy Thunder twirling a red bandana while they waited, and Midnight Fire’s drummer was walking through something with another sound engineer. “I’ve got your band set to go on these channels,” Stacy said, showing a worksheet, “and your colors are purple and white,” she added, pointing to tiny bits of electrical tape, “for the board.”
Mac took the chart and sheet and scanned them. “Looks fine, ma’am.”
“Do you play any other instrument?”
“Not here!” Mac answered. At Stacy’s alarmed look, she shook her head quickly. “Only the bass.”
Relief swept over Stacy’s thin features and gray-blue eyes. “Got it. Right, then.” She picked up an iPad and tapped it a couple times. “Lipstick Outlaws will be getting their lines checked. We’ve got your contact info.” Stacy smiled in a perfunctory way. “You know where to report?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mac said once again. And then, Stacy’s face broke into a smile and Mac grinned, too.
“That bad, eh?” Stacy quipped. “Well, you’re good. See you later.”
“Thank you!"
As she waited for the others in the band to congregate at their tour bus, she heard Katie Lyn’s mom and daughter laughing about something on YouTube. She had a moment, so she whipped out her phone.
Mac: Hey, you up?
Derek: I’m answering your text, so yes, I count that as being awake.
Mac: Ha ha. Fine. Just thought I’d say hi, but I don’t want to intrude on your day.
Derek: No worries, hon. Not doing anything globally significant.
Mac: Oh, well then. That’s all right. But I’ll let you go. I just thought I’d pop in.
Mac: Looking forward to it!
INTERLUDE VII
Group Text: Derek, Micah, & Bethany
Derek: Are you ready?
Micah: Do I have to go?
Bethany: You promised!
Derek: There you have it. The lady has spoken.
Micah: Texted!
Bethany: Whatever! Anyway, yes. Are you?
Micah: Yes. I’m bringing hand sanitizer, though.
Derek: LOL Fine.
Bethany: Does she have a clue?
Derek: Not. One.
8
“Val! Psst! Val McCann!”
Derek snorted. “Can’t believe you said Psst, man. In here?”
Micah Cunningham flung up a hand. “It worked, right? She’s coming.” Val McCann was a powerful woman, Derek understood. She owned a Nashville bar, managed a rising-star country music group, booked concerts, kept six women and their closest associates at her fingertips, and still managed to pull off the occasional prank when the situation warranted it.
Like today.
They were at the Sugar Belle Café, near the Misses-Sip concert venue where Mac would be performing that evening. The Lipstick Outlaws had prime billing at this event, which Derek understood to be a huge deal, even for a new event.
“They’re putting a lot of faith in us,” she’d told him during their last conversation before she’d boarded the bus once again. “I mean, the other stuff that’ll be there will draw in a considerable crowd, I’m sure, but the music . . . it’s a huge deal. I think it is, anyway.”
“Y’all are great,” he’d assured her, as positively as he could. “Even when you’re rehearsing. And I’ve got your album on vinyl, you know. Come to think of it, I oughta bring it ‘round after y’all get back, get everyone to sign it.”
She’d laughed and it had made his heart spark to know that he’d drawn that particular sound from her. He did it often enough to think that he might be pretty good at it and could continue to be pretty good at it. For a long time, maybe.
A very long time.
“Your manager is worth every penny, I’d wager,” Derek had told his girlfriend while trying to find something to say after thinking what he had been thinking.
“She really is. And then some!”
This morning, Val McCann was on time to meet with them at the spacious breakfast venue. It was crowded, to be sure. Having been born and raised in Davidson County, Tennessee, Derek was more than used to the sight of a country music aficionado. That they seemed to have all congregated here in the restaurant was a bit more of a surprise, though he supposed it really shouldn’t have been. It had been a relief to find that Micah had been able to get two rooms at a hotel just a few minutes’ walk to the festival site, considering how many pairs of cowboy boots, bandanas, hats, and early-morning barbecue enthusiasts he’d seen in the hotel lobby.
And the surprises weren’t over yet!
Val stepped quickly over, curly auburn hair vibrating with energy. “Hey,” she called, her voice winding through the sounds of what he presumed to be happy festivalgoers. “Got all y’all’s passes.” She smiled a greeting for Derek and then looked pointedly at Micah and then at Bethany.
Bethany elbowed her boyfriend, who looked utterly flustered for a moment and that made Derek chuckle.
“Uh, right. Yeah, sorry. Val McCann, this is Bethany Dyer. My girlfriend. Beth, this is Val, the band’s manager.”
Bethany beamed and stood, pushing her glasses up her nose as she did so. “Hi! I saw you at the Wild Horse! Good phone catch, by the way.”
Val appeared pleased. “Thank you. Between you and me, Mac’s doin’ that again today. The picture of the audience. The organizers saw what she did at the Wild Horse and wanted her to do it here for better publicity.”
Derek nodded. “That’s cool.”
“Maybe the tech crew won’t be so weird about it like they were in Nashville.”
“Yeah,” Bethany added. “The light guys went crazy.” Then she cocked her head. “Y’all able to join us for breakfast? We can get a chair.”
Derek rose to his feet, ready to give her his seat if she would stay, but Val shook her head. “Nope. Actually, I called in a breakfast order. I’ll be taking food back in and making them eat. Besides,” she added with a smile, “the festival manager said the best pancakes in town are here.”
Micah’s eyes lit and asked, “Do they have chicken and waffles?”
Bethany groaned dramatically.
Val handed a thick envelope to Micah. “There you go.
Y’all so owe me.”
Derek, who was still standing, extended his hand to her now empty one. “I really do. Thank you for helping out with this.”
“There’s a map so y’all can get where you need to be without Mac seein’ ya. Have fun!”
“Bye!”
Derek watched the older woman step quickly away, clearly on a mission. She left with two big carry-out bags and he had to wonder what the ladies had ordered. Besides pancakes and coffee, of course. Mac would have to have her coffee.
Micah got his attention with a tap on the table. “Right, then,” Mike said, displaying the map that was in the envelope. “So, this is what we’re gonna have to do.”
With a diagram in front of them and plenty of orange juice and coffee on hand, they plotted their gig-crashing for that evening.
“It’s gonna be epic,” Micah said with a smug grin.
Derek laughed. “I hope so. I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy, anyway.”
Bethany sighed dramatically. “Well, I hope so. It’d be nice to see her again. Hint hint.”
“I know. I know. Double date,” Derek said with one hand up. When their server appeared as if she’d been waiting for that signal, he snagged the check from her, over Micah’s protests. “I got it. Just stop. Let’s get out of here and check out the festival or whatever, okay?”
Out they stepped, into the burnishing heat of a Mississippi Memorial Day Weekend. Hopefully, there’d be enough shade for everyone!
* * *
“Looks like folks are making a day of it,” Derek remarked later that afternoon as they roamed the festival area. As it was a holiday weekend, and there had been plenty of local publicity, the site was pretty crowded. Two military bases were represented, Navy and Army, and he imagined that somewhere, others were as well. Aromas of grilling meat, ice cream, and fried everything wove through the assembling crowd.
