by Jodie Larson
“Myles Donovan! Hate to say it, but I’ve missed your ugly mug,” Gabe says, giving me a hug. I slap his back just as hard before messing up his too perfect hair.
“I knew you harbored secret feelings for me. It’s not your fault. You just can’t help yourself. Hell, no one can help themselves with me.”
“I can,” Adrienne says.
“Me too,” says Quinn, raising her hand.
Everyone breaks out laughing, which pulls a smile from me. “You two don’t count.”
“Why? Cause we’re immune to your charms?” Adrienne says, batting her lashes.
“Or because we don’t want to sleep with you?” Quinn adds.
“No, because you’re obviously brain damaged since you’re both married.”
Gabe wraps his arms around his wife, kissing her temple. “Why yes, she is.”
“Hey!” Quinn jabs her elbow into his side. Gabe lets out a grunt before releasing her.
“I was agreeing to the married part, not the brain damaged part.”
She holds a finger in front of his face. “You better have been, otherwise I know someone who’s going to be having some alone time with his hand for the next week.”
I shake my head, enjoying Gabe’s discomfort and embarrassment. “Fuck, dude. And you married her? Ow!” I rub the spot where Quinn hit my arm. “She’s mean.”
“You ought to know better by now,” Adrienne says. “Once she gets riled up, she gets mean.”
Kade slides up next to his wife, pressing a hand to her barely rounded belly. “You causing trouble over here?” He winks at her as she glares at him.
“Hardly.” They kiss, keeping it somewhat tame for the rest of us. With them it’s always a toss-up if they’re going to keep it PG or X.
“She’s always trouble,” I say, taking the offered beer from Gabe, who’s back behind the bar. I drown out everyone’s conversations as I sit and focus on the beer in my hands. After my talk with Mom earlier, she tried to convince me to give Tatum a chance should I find her again. Maybe there was a reason she decided to show up. Gold digger was the first thing to come to mind. Fame whore was another. Not that she was either of those two way back when. Then again, I was neither of those two when she was around. I was still just a struggling musician, having fun with his friends in a garage band with dreams of making it big one day. And she was the girl by my side who told me I was going to rule the world.
Funny how things change. I thought she would be right next to me as we took the world by storm. Instead, it’s me and some nameless girl in every city I go to.
“When do you guys want to go on?” Gabe asks, bringing me back to reality.
Kade pulls Adrienne into his lap. “How about last? That way we don’t cause too much of a raucous before everyone has a chance to let their talent shine.”
Adrienne’s musical laugh fills the air. “There’s that word again. Seriously, it’s like you’re eighty-years-old.”
Kade quiets her with a kiss and I roll my eyes. “For fuck’s sake, get a room. You’ve already impregnated her. No need to keep trying.”
He laughs when he finally detaches himself. “No need to try. We’ve got that down.”
“I’m this close to losing the beer I just drank,” I say, pinching my index and thumb so close they’re almost touching.
Quinn laughs next to me. “Aww, is the manwhore getting uncomfortable? We should take pity on him.” She taps her chin and shakes her head. “On second thought, no, you need to suffer.”
My bottle rattles when I set it down a little harder than I meant to. “You make it sound horrible. There’s nothing wrong getting regular action everywhere I go.”
“You’re going to be a walking STD if you’re not careful.”
I look over at Quinn. “I’m always careful. Besides, these girls know what they’re getting into when they come to my room. I’m not whispering promises of a forever or a ring. It’s one night to blow their mind. And you can’t tell me they aren’t going back to their friends to say they got banged by Myles Donovan.”
“Ego a bit much?” she asks, looking over at Gabe who’s grabbing a few beers for some customers across the bar.
“Nope, my ego is just fine. Gets stroked all the time.”
Quinn sticks her finger down her throat and mock gags. “Now I’m going to be sick.”
“Anyway,” Adrienne says. “What are you guys going to sing? Are you doing something off the album, something new, or a cover like you used to play?”
Kade can’t keep his hands off her stomach as he adjusts her on his lap. “I think we’re going for a cover. People know we’re in town and I’m sure will figure out we’ll be here at some point. Being here, it seems right to play a cover. It’s how it all started.” He tugs at her hood. “Just like you wearing this hoodie tonight.”
“Same one as the first night.” Her smile brightens, lighting up her face even more.
I hold my empty bottle in the air, shaking it to get Gabe’s attention. “Kinda thirsty over here. In need of some alcohol if I continue to listen to the mushy shit being spewed.”
Gabe laughs and brings over the bottle of Jameson and a rocks glass filled with ice. Setting it down in front of me, he pours a generous amount and slides it over. “My treat.”
“Thanks, buddy.” I take the first drink, letting the amber liquid burn slightly as it coats my insides, deadening them so I won’t feel it all night long. If only it would work on the outside as well. I could use something to numb the world around me.
Act after act takes the stage, some of them good. Some are just awful. Almost like a cat is being run over somewhere, or they smoked enough weed to make them think they were Jimi Hendrix instead of a five-year-old playing with a toy guitar.
Brecken takes the seat that Quinn vacated and bumps my shoulder. “Some of them aren’t too shabby.”
I shrug with indifference. “I’ve heard worse.”
He laughs, taking a pull from his beer. “Just remember, that was us at one point. Just some punk kids trying to get heard.”
I twist my face, which makes him laugh. “We were never like a few of them. At least we’re not tone deaf.”
He clinks his bottle to my glass. “Got that right.” We scan the crowd, wondering how many people have recognized us yet, or how many acts are still waiting. After three Jamesons, the comforting buzz flows through my veins. This down time is necessary for our mental health. It’s the first time since the start of the tour that we’ve had more than a day to breathe. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brothers something fierce, but if I’m stuck on a bus with them for weeks without a break, I may go crazy.
Don comes wandering in, his cell phone glued to his ear, as usual. He’s going to end up with a brain tumor if he doesn’t put it down. I swear he works harder than we do most days. But without him, there’s no way we’d be playing in the venues we are, getting the deals we deserve. He’s worth every penny we pay him. It helps that he’s been with us from the beginning. Outside of the four of us, Adrienne, Quinn, and Gabe, he probably knows us better than anyone.
His phone thuds against the counter as he takes a seat next to Kade. “Bad news guys. Melissa fell at home and needed emergency surgery. She won’t be back for the rest of the tour.”
“Oh my gosh, is she okay?” Adrienne asks.
Don thanks Gabe for the beer before turning back to us. “Tore her ACL, MCL, and had some major tendon damage. She’ll be in the hospital for at least a week, then crutches and braces for the next two months.”
“So let me guess,” Kade says, rubbing his forehead. “We need a new opening act.”
Don sets his bottle down and wipes his mouth. “Yep.”
“Any ideas?” Brecken asks.
“I talked it over with the label and they basically said it’s our decision. I suggested we find someone new and unknown. Help another person find the spotlight like we did for you guys,” Don says. He taps his chin and smiles. “It’s almost funny that I got this
call tonight, since we all planned on meeting here to watch open mic night. Anyone catch your eye yet?”
“Not yet,” I say, taking a drink.
“A few have been okay, but nothing that’s blown us away,” Kade says.
A new act takes the stage, pulling a single stool into the middle and lowering the mic stand. Acoustic guitar in hand, they strum a few chords and clears their throat. “Um, hi.” The speakers squeak briefly before settling back down. No one in the bar looks up, instead, continuing their conversations until almost drowning out the girl’s voice on stage. “This is a cover of Lisa Loeb. I hope you enjoy it.”
The song opens, the strings singing as she plucks them with ease. Like she’s been playing her whole life. The spotlight still isn’t on her, keeping her in shadows. I can barely see her fingers as she plays, but when she opens her mouth to sing, the spotlight blares, almost blinding everyone in the room. I cup my hand above my eyes and almost drop the glass in my hand when I recognize the voice coming through the speakers.
Holy shit. I’ve heard her sing this song for years, even helped her learn how to play it. She was obsessed with this song, making me listen to it over and over while she perfected it.
It’s Tatum, on stage, singing her heart out to a song that holds so much meaning to her. It was the first cover she learned, her first foray into music after I encouraged her to learn it. She already had a beautiful voice. The addition of the guitar only perfected it.
Don sits up straighter, his eyes locked on the stage as she sings. “Damn, she’s good. Really good.”
“Uh huh,” is all I can say. Whatever thoughts I had of her earlier this week have vanished. All the hatred, the hurt and pain she’d inflicted disappears as I stare at the girl sitting center stage. Tatum’s light shines bright as she kept everything simple about herself, letting her talent take precedence, rather than her beauty. Her hair’s in a high ponytail, her face clean of most makeup, which pairs well with the black-and-white plaid shirt and skinny jeans. You can see the black lace tank top peeking out from underneath since she kept the top three buttons undone. Effortless beauty, just like she was back then. This is the girl I remember, the girl who haunts me still. The one I foolishly fell in love with and the one who threw that love away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Kade leaning over, watching my reaction as Tatum continues singing. The noise from before has stopped. Everyone is focused on her now, just like we are. When she ends the song, she thanks the crowd and stands to the roar of applause and whistles. A strand of hair comes loose and she tucks it behind her ear, her face turning an adorable shade of pink. She takes a bow and walks off the stage, the crowd still cheering as she leaves.
“We need to talk to her. I think she’d be a good addition to the tour.” Don’s voice breaks the spell and I shake my head several times to make sure I heard him right.
“What? No, not her. She wouldn’t be good.”
He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “What are you talking about? Didn’t you just hear her? She’d be amazing.”
A mischievous glint goes into Kade’s eyes as he smiles. “Yeah, she’d be perfect. I’ll go grab her after we’re done.” He shrugs. “You know, just to talk.”
The chair screeches loudly as I stand. “Like hell you will.”
Don looks between us, confusion drawing his brows down. “Am I missing something?”
Breck leans over and smiles. “Tatum has history with us. We know her and her talent. I agree, I think she’d be a great addition to the tour. We could even promote it as an all K.C. thing since we all grew up together.”
“A family tour. I like it,” Don says, typing something into his phone.
“Fuck,” I say, dragging the word out. “I need air.”
I start walking to the door when Kade’s voice booms behind me. “We’re on in five minutes so make it quick.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
The chill of the night air hits me as I shove the door open. It hits the wall with a loud thud before silently shutting behind me. Why is she here? And why now? Nine years and she’s only crossed my mind a handful of times. Like when I’m drunk and lonely, or find that damn box of photos in the spare bedroom. Or every blond I take back to my hotel room. Regardless of what they look like, the only face I see is hers. No matter how many times I try to forget her, she’s always been there.
Okay, so it’s been more than a handful of times.
I scrub a hand down my face and lift it to the sky. The city lights are too bright to see the stars, but I know they’re out there. Closing my eyes, I take one last deep breath. Time to face the music. Just don’t know if I’m fully ready to face her yet.
I’ve never had my knees shake so hard in my life. Sure, I’ve done this before, but the crowd has never been this big. When I have been able to gather the courage to play, it’s been a dozen people, maybe two. But tonight there are at least fifty people here. Nothing like a little added pressure when I’m already nervous.
Running late didn’t help either. First, I couldn’t find my shoe, which ended up wedged behind the rack in my closet. Then, I thought I misplaced my car keys, only to realize I had them in my hand while searching for the missing shoe. Traffic was unusually heavy for this time of the night. At least there was a parking spot available for me…two blocks away. My guitar case has never felt so heavy in my hand.
Now that I’m standing here, looking out at the person on stage before me, things start to settle. The thrumming of my heart doesn’t, but I close my eyes and focus all my attention to that little organ, willing it to regulate and slow to a more normal beat. After several deep breaths, I open my eyes and smile. I can do this.
The crowd claps mildly for the guy leaving the stage. He smiles at me, giving a thumbs up as he passes.
“Break a leg,” he calls over his shoulder.
Probably not the best thing to say to me after the night I’ve had. It could actually come true at this point.
“Okay, you’re on,” the girl holding a clipboard next to me says.
I swallow hard, forcing the nerves out of my body. “Thanks.” With purposeful strides, I walk to the center of the stage and sit on the lone stool. After adjusting the mic stand and strumming a couple times to make sure I’m still in tune, I introduce the song and start plucking the strings with the pick, making them sing the beautiful melody. “Stay” by Lisa Loeb was the first song I ever learned how to play and it’s stayed a favorite of mine ever since. Happy memories filter in as I remember the first time I picked up the guitar, wanting to play but being intimidated by it. It didn’t help that my hot-as-sin boyfriend was a master at it. Watching him day after day made me want to learn, to share something more with him. And because our moms were obsessed with everything 90’s, this song was a sure fire winner.
The spotlight kicks in once I open my mouth to sing the lyrics. I remember when I first heard this song, courtesy of my mother. Back when MTV used to play music videos, I would sit for hours, waiting for it to come on. Then, when my mom finally got sick of me wasting time in front of the TV, she caved and bought the CD for me. Many nights I listened to it, singing the song over and over again, even through high school when it wasn’t cool anymore. Poor Myles had to suffer through it all. He never once complained and actually was eager to teach me the guitar. Said it was the perfect complement to my voice. And with the guitar, I could take it anywhere, unlike if I had learned the piano or some other instrument.
When the song ends, the crowd erupts in applause and whistles. Wow, I wasn’t expecting that. I thought maybe two or three people were paying attention, not the whole bar. I stand and wave to the crowd, quickly exiting off to the side.
“Great job,” the girl says to me. She’s still holding the clipboard, running her finger down it before checking something off with her pen. “Such a classic song.”
Classic? She doesn’t look much younger than I am. Then again, I’m almost thirty, so I guess so
ngs from the 90’s are going to start being considered classics. I think I’m still heavily in denial about that.
“Thanks.” I place the guitar back in its case. Footsteps sound behind me, along with several male voices.
“Oh good, you’re here,” clipboard girl says, her voice rising an octave higher. Jesus, what’s her deal? Laughter follows her loud exclamation, but something stops me in my tracks. That laughter. I’ve heard it before.
“Tay!” a male voice calls.
No fucking way. When I look up, I’m greeted by three smiling faces from my past. Faces I haven’t seen in nine years, but haven’t looked like they’ve aged at all.
“Holy shit, it is Tatum.” Paxton comes up and lifts me off my feet, squeezing me tight. “How’ve you been, girl? Missed seeing your beautiful face.”
I can’t help but laugh and wrap my arms around his shoulders. “Hey, Pax. I’ve been good, you?”
He sets me down and winks. “Living the dream.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Breck and Kade both come up and hug me, even giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“I think my jaw dropped to the counter when I heard your voice. You sounded amazing, Tay,” Kade says, pulling me into his side like he used to do.
These three were like my brothers growing up, always sticking up for me or threatening to beat anyone up who looked at me funny. Since I never had siblings, it was kind of nice to have that added protection.
“You’re just saying that.” I smile between the three of them, but it falters slightly. “So, um, congrats on the success. I knew you guys would make it big.”
He’s not here. I don’t know why that disappoints me. I can’t blame him for not being here after what I did. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to see me either.
“Thanks. Yeah, living the rock star life is pretty sweet. Chicks everywhere, playing music. What more could a guy ask for?” Pax says.
I laugh, trying to reset my mood to what it was before. “I suppose the millions of adoring fans and all the money you’re making isn’t so shabby either.”
“Meh, it’s okay,” Brecken says.
