Lights Out Lucy

by Elicia Hyder

  “Good evening, everyone,” she said.

  “What’s with the camera?” Ava asked, beating me to the question.

  “They’re going to do the shoot tonight,” Audrey asked, her tone implying we were stupid for wondering.

  I slipped my hand up. “I thought we were keeping the video casual.”

  “We are,” Ava said. “We discussed this, Audrey.”

  “But the lighting and the audio will be better through the live-streaming mobile studio that these guys can use,” Audrey said.

  Ava crossed her arms. “The whole reason we changed the song and stage setup was so Jake could do the acoustic number for the sake of the video.”

  Audrey gestured to the video team. “And now they can do even that better. The whole world is going to be listening the first time he plays that song. We want it to be the best quality possible.”

  The whole world? Really? I was trying hard not to roll my eyes. To be honest, I was happy for the video team to take over the job. It’d be, sure as hell, less stress on me.

  “No,” Jake said, surprising us all. “I want her”—he pointed at me—“to shoot it on her phone the way she did the other videos.”

  “You do?” Audrey and I asked at the exact same time, both with equal amounts of surprise.

  He nodded and plopped a brand-new black cowboy hat down onto his head, instead of his favorite old brown one. “Yes. She did a great job with the other videos, and I want her on this one too.”

  My heart swelled. I was pretty sure Jake had forgotten my name, and Audrey wouldn’t have known it anyway, but he was singing my praises. Me.

  Audrey blinked. “Well, OK, then.”

  “This wireless mic will hook up to her phone if you want to use it,” one of the guys in black offered.

  I nodded. “That’d be great.”

  He held out his hand. “I just need to install a quick app and connect it via Bluetooth.”

  I gave him the phone. “Excellent.”

  There were five minutes to spare to shoot a test video with the new microphone that was pinned to Jake’s shirt. It sounded great. “I want to shoot the video myself, selfie-style, till I go up on stage. Is that OK with you?” Jake asked.

  My head snapped back. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  He winked at me. “I like your attitude.”

  “The music has been silenced out by the pool, but it will start playing The Gun Show when you walk out there,” Audrey said. “We’ll keep it low so it won’t interfere with the video. Gus will be watching live on his phone here and using the radio to signal the guys in the sound booth if there are any issues.”

  Jake gave her a thumbs-up. “Hey, Ava. On second thought, will you bring that gray shirt in case I get hot?”

  Ava’s eyes narrowed to skeptical slits. “OK?” Her response sounded more like a question than an answer.

  “Let’s do this,” he said.

  My pulse echoed in my ears as he took the phone from me.

  “You guys might want to move,” he suggested.

  “You’re going to start shooting in here?” Audrey asked, clearly horrified.

  He looked at his watch. “It’s seven o’clock. I don’t see why not.”

  We all scurried to the side of the room to stay out of his way. The production guys aimed their white lights at him. “Is this OK?” one of them asked.

  “Perfect,” Jake said. “In three…two…one. Action!”

  Sixteen

  “Hey, guys! It’s Jake here. How y’all doin’ tonight?” Jake’s smile was wild as he looked into the video camera. “I’m actually coming to you live from my bedroom right now in Nashville, Tennessee!”

  Ava was gripping my wrist so hard I feared she might draw blood.

  On my other side, Audrey nudged my arm with her elbow. She had the video streaming on her phone with the sound muted.

  “Tonight, we’re about to throw down and celebrate my new album, The Gun Show. It hit stores yesterday and is already sitting at the top of the country music charts. So tonight is for you guys! The best fans in the world. And for my momma, Eileen Barrett. She’s supposed to be tuning in from Phoenix tonight.” He waved at the camera. “Hi, Mom!”

  There were already over sixty-two thousand viewers.

  I gulped.

  “So welcome to my home. Please drop in the comments and let me know where you’re watching live this evening,” he said.

  The comment section was already going crazy, but then the locations started coming in.

  Watching live in Seattle, Washington!

  It’s 9:03 in the morning here in Canberra, Australia!

  We love you in London, Jake!

  “I love you, too, London!” Jake said, winking at the camera.

  “Holy shit,” Ava whispered beside me.

  There were already over three hundred comments and a thousand stars.

  Jake walked toward the bedroom door. “Are you guys ready to get this party started? I sure am. I think we’ve got quite the crowd waiting for us out in my backyard.”

  Jake’s performance was impressive. There was nothing else in the world between him and the fans in that video. It was captivating to watch on Audrey’s small screen. We followed him at a distance as he walked through the living room. “You guys want a mini tour of my house?” he asked.

  Of course they did. All ninety thousand of them.

  “There’s my piano. I actually bought it at an estate sale from the legendary Erving Clyne. I can’t play it for shit, but someday I’m gonna learn just to honor his memory.”

  Ava leaned into me. “Can he say shit on a live internet video?”

  I shrugged. “He just did.”

  “Over here are my awards.” He crossed the living room to the mantle and began pointing at the statues. “Here are my ACMs, these three are CMAs, and this is my Grammy.” He held up a bronze star that was mounted on a black onyx pedestal. “And this one’s my absolute favorite, my Fan’s Choice Award.” He flipped the camera back around to his face. “Every day I look at this star, baffled that you all thought I was worthy enough to have my name etched on it. Thank you, guys.” He winked again.

  Oh, he’s good, I thought, smiling to myself.

  The video had soared to over 150,000 live viewers.

  Jake walked back to the kitchen and dining area and panned the camera around. “Believe it or not, this room does function as a kitchen on a normal day in the Barrett house.” He turned the camera toward all the beer stacked on the counters and the floors, then lowered his voice like he was telling them a secret. “I think someone’s planning on doing some partying tonight.”

  When he reached the end of the hallway, he turned his back to the door and aimed the camera at his face. Ava and I were watching on her smartphone.

  Jake flashed the fans his million-dollar smile. “Are you guys ready to go and hang with some of my friends?”

  Comments were scrolling so fast through the video sidebar that my eyes couldn’t keep up.

  The door swung open behind him, probably cued by someone with a radio, and the crowd erupted in cheers and applause on the patio. Confetti rained down. Music blared. A spray of colorful fireworks exploded somewhere on the far side of the expansive lawn.

  Jake’s eyes sparkled in the video, glistening with genuine tears of joyous surprise. And in that second, I became a fan of the man himself, not just of his music or his exceptionally gorgeous face. And I was sure, I wasn’t alone. Certainly, everyone who was watching fell a little harder in love with him that night. All 212,000 of them.

  “You guys want to meet some of my friends?” he asked the camera, stepping out onto the patio. He looked around the crowd. “We’ve got almost a quarter of a million people watching live right now, so don’t do anything stupid!”

  Everyone laughed.

  “There’s Stone Anderson over there manning the beer cooler as usual.” Stone, the current reigning bad boy of country music, raised a beer bottle in salute. “And next
to him, Lincoln Hunt. Wave hello, Lincoln!” Jake yelled. Lincoln Hunt was said to be the best steel guitar player in history. It was rumored his hands were insured for a million dollars each. He was waving both of them in the air.

  “Jake!” a booming voice shouted.

  We all turned.

  Holy shit.

  The crowd had parted like the Red Sea for Trip Wiley. The Trip Wiley.

  “Trip!” Jake looked back over his shoulder and thrust the phone into my hands. Startled, I nearly dropped it before making sure the camera was facing the right direction.

  And my jitters were justified. Sure, Jake Barrett had made People’s Most Beautiful People list, but the same publication had named Trip Wiley Sexiest Man Alive two years in a row. And gawking at him in the flesh, the title was deserved.

  Trip Wiley was heart stopping.

  The two heartthrobs embraced, and I was pretty sure I felt the entire internet swoon at my fingertips. Trip clapped Jake on the back, then they both turned, arm in arm, to face me—I mean, the camera.

  Jake pointed at Trip. “This guy needs no introduction, right? But just in case…Trip Wiley, ladies and gentlemen.”

  Everyone on the patio cheered. Trip waved to them and the fans watching live online. “This is an excellent party, my friend. Congratulations on the new album.”

  “Thank you. Thank you.” Jake jerked his head in the direction of the stage. “I’m thinking about playing a new number. You want to hear?”

  “Absolutely!” Trip answered.

  “Let’s do this!” Jake beckoned me, the camera, to follow as he walked through the crowd toward the stage. He paused several times along the way for high fives and to point out various superstars to those watching live at home. We also took a detour by the cake and the ice sculpture. I made sure to get the new album’s cover front and center in the video footage.

  I had a front-row view when Jake climbed the stage and picked up his guitar. An arm brushed mine, and I gulped when I realized Trip Wiley was standing right next to me. He smelled like soap and sugar, clean and delicious. Oh my god.

  The live viewer number broke a quarter-million just as Jake strummed the guitar strings and began to sing. His voice was low and melodic, seductive and smooth.

  I knew this day would always come.

  I never thought I’d feel this numb.

  You walked away.

  I let you go.

  And never once, did I let you know

  But here we are.

  So close. So very far.

  And I told myself I’d be fine.

  But now, darling, I know…

  You’ll never be mine.

  A penny could have fallen onto the concrete and the noise would have shattered the silence on the patio. It was just Jake and his guitar, his eyes firmly fixed on me…no, dumbass, on the camera. Wait. No. Not the camera. I glanced over my shoulder, careful to not wobble the video.

  Ava was standing just behind me.

  Oh boy.

  Jake continued the song. I wondered if anyone else noticed. I wondered if Audrey noticed. I found her in the crowd. Thankfully, her eyes were glued to her phone. But was there something going on with Ava and Jake? Surely not. The blonde. The stray stiletto. The bikini top. No, there couldn’t be.

  And there’d better not be. I shuddered thinking of what Audrey would do.

  An arm slid around my waist. West had found his way to me through the crowd. He winked but didn’t speak.

  The song finished with Jake holding out the last note. “You’ll never be miiiiiiiiine.”

  Jake walked to the edge of the stage in front of me, held his guitar by its neck, and bowed for his audience. The ones present and the 278,113 watching live online.

  As he straightened, the flame from the nearest tiki lamp licked Jake’s arm, and suddenly his entire left side burst into flames. Screams pierced the night air as Jake flailed wildly on the stage. West charged up the stairs, quickly tackling the singer to the ground and suffocating the flames beneath his body weight. I was frozen where I stood, filming the whole ordeal with my cursed smartphone.

  One of the sound guys rushed over with a large bottle of water, pouring it over the two men rolling on the stage. Ava pushed past me and ran up the steps, followed closely by Audrey and a few others. After a second, they moved aside as West offered Jake a hand up.

  “I’m OK! I’m OK!” Jake was shouting as West hauled him to his feet.

  Jake hugged West, then pulled back to shake his hand. Jake’s shirt was scorched and exposing red flesh underneath. They were talking too quietly for me to hear, but West’s face was flushed and his eyes were wide with panic and adrenaline. Jake clapped him on the back. “My hero!” he announced. “West Adler, everyone!”

  Ava grabbed Jake by his ridiculous collar.

  He nodded and I read his lips as he promised her he was OK. Then he grabbed the microphone and laughed. “I think I’m going to need a new shirt!”

  Ava ran her hands down her face as she walked across the stage toward me. She pointed at the ground and Trip Wiley bent to pick something up. He handed her Jake’s gray shirt.

  Jake looked at the guys in the sound booth. “I think this calls for some new music.”

  His new title song, “The Gun Show,” played over the speakers again as Jake stripped off his charred shirt and slipped his hulking arms into the gray one. Patches of skin were bright red on his chiseled chest and side, but they appeared to be only minor burns.

  He was lucky.

  Or was he?

  There were almost three hundred thousand people watching online.

  When Jake finished buttoning his shirt, he took back the microphone Ava was holding for him. Then he walked toward me on the stage. “I hope you guys enjoyed The Gun Show tonight. Don’t forget to pick up the new album now wherever music is sold. Goodnight!”

  “Well, that was one hell of a show,” West said, carrying two beers over to where I stood by the pool looking at the video in my hands.

  Ava was punching Jake in the arm as they walked over behind him.

  “You really saved my ass up there, West,” Jake said, catching Ava’s fist in his hand when she moved to strike him again.

  “I’m glad he had the reflexes to react,” I said. “The rest of us were too stunned to move.”

  Jake clinked his beer bottle with West’s. “I owe you one, brother.”

  “Don’t mention it, man.” West took a long drink, his weary eyes fixed on the stars above us.

  “Jake, how about a picture with the big hero?” a man called to us. It was the event photographer.

  “Absolutely!” Jake hooked his arm around West’s neck for the shot. They smiled as the camera flashed. “I want a group picture too,” Jake said, pulling Ava under his other arm. West was kissing the side of my head when the camera flashed again.

  Jake thanked the photographer, then leaned over my shoulder. “How’d the video come out?”

  “Very dramatic.” I looked down at the button on the screen. Do you want to post your video?

  Ava was looking too, and she answered out loud. “No! Not without talking to Audrey first.”

  Just as I glanced up at her, Jake reached over me and clicked the button to upload. “Absolutely, we do!”

  I fumbled the phone.

  It fell straight into the pool.

  Shit.

  The four of us stood there, motionless, and watched it sink to the bottom of the blue water.

  “Oops,” Jake said.

  West looked at me. “Want me to go in after it?”

  I blew out a sigh that puffed out my cheeks. “Why bother?”

  Jake’s big hand squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

  “You bet your ass you will,” Ava snapped. She looked around and leaned toward him. “Did you plan that shit, Jake Barrett?”

  West and I both turned to look at him. I’d been wondering the same thing.

  Jake held his hands up. “Me? Why would I do
such a thing?”

  She glared at him.

  He grinned. Then he pointed to the phone resting on the bottom of the pool. “Think the video still uploaded?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  West put his beer down and pulled out his phone. After a few taps on the screen, he turned it around to show us. “It’s up there.”

  Jake howled. “Holy hell! Over a million views already! Are you serious?”

  I gripped my temples. “Where’s Audrey?”

  Ava rubbed her forehead. “Probably in the house washing down Xanax with moonshine.”

  Jake draped his arm around her neck. “What are you so worried about? This is a marketing dream. There’s no such thing as bad press, Ava.”

  She closed her eyes. “You’d better pray you’re right.”

  “You two were rock stars tonight. I really appreciate everything,” Jake said to me and West. “Mi casa, su casa. You can have the guest house tonight if you want to party and crash here.”

  West and I exchanged an awkward glance. “Thanks,” he said.

  Jake nodded toward the house and looked at Ava. “We’d better go find your sister and make sure she hasn’t had an aneurysm.”

  Ava smiled, sort of. “Have fun, guys.”

  When they were gone, West laughed and wrapped his arms around me. “What a night!”

  “Do you want to stay here?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Hell no.”

  “Thank God,” I said, resting my face against his chest. “I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

  Relief washed over his face. “Say no more. What do you want to do about your phone?”

  I shrugged and looked down in the pool. “Leave it, I guess. It’s trashed now anyway, right?”

  He nodded. “Afraid so.”

  “I don’t even care. My brain is so fried right now. I can’t believe all that just happened,” I said.

  West pulled me against him and kissed the side of my head. “Nothing’s ever boring with you, Lucille. Finish your beer. Let’s go home.”

  Sunday morning I awoke to something hot, wet, and rough sliding across my face. My eyes fluttered open just as Cash licked my face again. I scrambled back in the bed, slamming ass-first into West. He groaned and rolled over toward me.