Jude’s Song

by Mary Crawford

  Tasha slumps back against my chest. “Even if all that’s true, what difference does it make if she has the power to take it all away with the stroke of a pen?” All of Tasha’s carefully held composure shatters and she sobs. “If it’s not my dream anymore, why does it hurt so much to give it up?”

  Stella puts her glass of white wine down and clears her throat. “Honey, this world would be a very sad place if you could only have one dream in your whole lifetime. I don’t think that’s how all this works.”

  I lean down and kiss the top of Tasha’s head. “I hope Stella’s right, because I know my dreams have gotten a lot bigger since I met you.”

  She leans her head back to look at me. “I hate that all of this drama has ruined your first night up on stage. Was it all you wanted it to be?”

  “Are you kidding me? It was everything I’ve dreamed about on steroids. No wonder you guys are always completely jazzed afterward. Although I have a new appreciation for the exhaustion part too. I didn’t count on it being so difficult to talk to a few people.”

  Tasha grins. “Yeah, it’s a completely different skill set to talk to people one-on-one. Even so, you did great in both arenas. I thought the girl in the pink denim jacket was going to faint dead away when you started talking to her in Spanish. That was so adorable. I hope someone caught it on video.”

  “How in the world did she have a sign with my name on it?” I ask, still befuddled by the development. “I didn’t even know I was going to sing tonight. How did the fans know?”

  Aidan shakes his head as he says, “I have a loyal group of fans who’ve been with me since the very beginning when I used to sing in hotel lobbies and hole-in-the wall-beer-joints. They sometimes come on the road with me and follow the bus. It’s possible they heard from the crew that you were going to sing and helped recruit other fans.”

  Tara touches Aidan’s shoulder. “Speaking of that, have you been able to coordinate anything with Ruth’s family?”

  Aidan nods sadly as he says, “Yes, they’re postponing the memorial ceremony for a day so we’ll be able to attend.”

  I look over at Tara with a questioning glance, but Tasha is quick to pick up my tension, so she answers my unspoken question. “Ruth was Aidan’s number one super fan. She was also one of his oldest. She used to like to send the tabloid tongues a-wagging by planting bright red kisses all over Aidan’s face in indelible lipstick. She would simply cackle with delight every time one of those pictures was published in a rag magazine. More often than not she and Tara would be reading about their ‘mad feud’ in the paper over tea and cookies the next morning.”

  Tara looks profoundly sad as she picks up the explanation. “Ruth died this morning and we’re trying to find a way to pay tribute to her.”

  “I knew Ruth, but I never knew her name. She told me to call her Red,” I respond with a nostalgic grin. “She would always ask me at every venue to put her in the best spot to take pictures even if it wasn’t in the front row. Honestly, I always thought she was related to you.”

  “Only in my heart,” Aidan responds with a soft smile.

  “This would cut into your break a little, but you could juggle your media junkets and squeeze something in before your visit to St. Jude’s.”

  Aidan looks at Tara with pleading eyes. “Does this give me a legitimate excuse to skip the media junkets altogether?”

  Tara shakes her head with mild disapproval as she says, “Sadly, I don’t think so. There are some people counting on you to make a high-profile stop to encourage donations.”

  Aidan walks over to Jerome and taps him on the shoulder. Jerome practically drops his pizza as he jumps in surprise. “Hey! I was communing with the food here,” he protests as he takes his headphones off.

  “No problem. I’ll let you get back to that in a second — but I need to know if you still have your commercial driver’s license.”

  “Sure do. I help my uncle on his farm when I’m not working with you. Why?”

  “After you get a few hours of sleep, I want you to relieve Randall and drive a shift so we can make up some time on the road.”

  Jerome perks up. “For real? You’re going to let me drive the mansion on wheels? This might be the most fun I’d had since my best friend rented a Ferrari for senior prom.”

  Aidan laughs. “Easy, tiger. I want the whole band to arrive in one piece in Tennessee.”

  Jerome rubs his hands together with glee as he says, “No sweat. What is that? Three days away? I can probably do it in eighteen hours, tops.”

  Aidan comically looks around the room as he clutches his chest in mock fear. “I don’t suppose anyone else has a CDL?”

  “The leg to St. Jude actually takes about 24 hours — give or take,” I interject.

  “I’d like you and Randall to take the full three days. We were originally scheduled to make the trip in four. I don’t want you guys to do anything stupid because you’re tired. Ruth’s family can’t make it until Tuesday anyway.”

  Jerome sighs as he sets down his pizza. “I’m telling you, Boss, I’ve got mad skills. It’s like I can bend time or something.”

  Aidan smirks as he replies, “I’m sure you do. I’m just not sure I can afford the traffic tickets required to prove it.”

  Everyone in the room is laughing at the interplay between Aidan and Jerome. Everyone except Tasha.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TASHA

  I DON’T KNOW WHY THE news hit me so hard. I’ve known all along we were going to go visit St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. It’s one reason I signed up to go on this tour with Aidan. His commitment to charitable causes is one of the things I like the most about him. He doesn’t just throw money at a problem. Aidan becomes personally involved — very personally involved. He knows all about my history with leukemia. It’s not like I’ve kept it a secret or anything, but most of the time I don’t even think about it.

  Cancer Survivor. Those two words are playing an increasingly large role in my life. Maybe it’s all those college essays I’ve been filling out or the fact that I’m having to repeatedly justify why I want to leave show business to become a nurse. My status as a cancer survivor with capital letters seems to be taking over my life these days. I’m not sure how I feel about that. It’s an accomplishment, but it’s not really my accomplishment.

  The doctors and nurses did all the hard work. I was young enough that I don’t remember a whole lot of what happened. I remember a big hospital bed with railings and eating so much ice cream and pudding that to this day I become queasy when I look at either. My mom likes to play up how heroic I was throughout my cancer journey, but is it fair to categorize me as a hero if I don’t even recall all the details about how horribly sick I was? I don’t know. It feels as false as the flippers my mom used to make me wear as a kid to make me look like I had perfect teeth when I had anything but.

  Jude walks by my bed on the way out of the bathroom. I try to hide my stress, but I’m not fast enough. He comes and sits on the bed beside me and pulls me close to his side as he says, “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I need to play twenty questions?”

  I smile as he repeats what I often ask him. “No wonder you always get annoyed when I say that to you,” I say. “This will probably sound dumb — but I’m a little nervous about going back to the hospital. I haven’t been to St. Jude’s in several years. They gave me the all clear when I was about twelve and I haven’t had to see an oncologist since then.”

  “Are you afraid it will be bad luck or something?” Jude asks.

  “No, that’s not it so much. I guess I’m afraid they'll see me as some sort of role model for their recovery. I barely remember my recovery I don’t know what to say to them. Did Aidan tell you this girl specifically requested me for her ‘Dreaming While Awake’ experience? Can you believe it? That’s crazy to me. I’m just a little nobody singer who got chosen for a bogus television show. Of all the famous people on the planet, she wants to meet me? What if she
’s really sick and doesn’t make it? Does this family want to waste their wish on me?”

  Jude hugs me close to him. “Why wouldn’t she? You’re beautiful and kind. You sing better than most pop stars out there, and you’re phenomenal to all your fans. Why wouldn’t she want to meet you?”

  I shrug. “Well, here’s an obvious thing — Aidan O’Brien is going to be at the hospital too, and he’s a much bigger deal than me — not to mention that Tara’s a phenomenal dancer and a beautiful person inside and out. She’s been famous for many more years than me.”

  “Sirena, have Aidan or Tara ever had leukemia? Have they ever been a patient at St. Jude’s Hospital?”

  I shake my head. “No, not that I know of.”

  “You’ve made no secret of the fact that St. Jude’s helped save your life. It’s possible this patient knows that about you and feels some special kinship surrounding your shared past. Or she could like your music or your beautiful long hair. Maybe it’s because you’re from New York and she is too. You don’t know.”

  “What if she meets me and is disappointed?”

  “What if you’re everything she ever dreamed you’d be? I think that’s probably more likely.” Jude kisses me. “I know that's what happened when I got to know you.”

  Jude isn’t a guy who speaks in flowery speech. He doesn’t write long, intricate poetry. In fact, he doesn’t usually say much. When he comes out and says something so incredibly sweet, it means a ton.

  I wind my arms around his neck and pull him closer as I kiss him deeply. Pulling away, I whisper, “You’ve exceeded my every expectation too. I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier today because of all the craziness, but I am so proud of you. You took on your fears like a beast and put the needs of the band in front of your own. In my book, that makes you a hero.”

  Color rushes into Jude’s face. “If you’d known how close I was to throwing up every second I was up on the stage, you probably wouldn’t think I was so heroic.”

  “No, that’s what makes it so heroic. You stayed up there even though every instinct told you to run — that made your performance even more epic. Did I mention your performance was amazing? Not just amazing for your first time. Amazing. Period. End of sentence. Drop the mic, you can go home now. I felt like a proud mama.”

  Jude snorts at me. “I so do not want you to feel that way about me.”

  I grab the bottom of his T-shirt and pull it over his head as I say, “Okay, how about if I tell you I felt like a very possessive fan? Let’s say I was glad I’d already called dibs on your gorgeous self.”

  Jude gives me a crooked grin as he says, “Oh, I think nearly everyone could tell that. Logan said you just about threw down a cartwheel when you saw him file away the phone numbers he collected instead of giving them to me.”

  “Do you blame me? Some of those girls were hot!” I exclaim with a pout.

  “Were they? I never noticed. The only woman I have eyes for is you.”

  I chuckle as I respond, “Did I mention you might be the most perfect boyfriend ever?”

  “Not recently, but you can spend some time convincing me,” Jude suggests.

  “That won’t be a problem,” I promise as I pull the blankets over us.

  I’d met Ruth’s daughter, Miriam on tour once or twice before, but this was my first time meeting her other daughter, Agnes. When I try to formally introduce myself, she skips the handshake altogether and hugs me as she quickly corrects me. “Only the government calls me Agnes. Everyone else calls me Aggie. I’m just so sorry Mama isn’t alive to see this. She would’ve busted her buttons if she would’ve known her Aidan was going to give her a private concert.”

  I smile as I respond, “Something tells me she probably already knows. She’s likely bragging to all of her friends in the world beyond that she has better than front-row seats now.”

  “You can say that again. Mama was always a little annoyed because most of her friends had already passed on a few years ago and she didn’t have anybody left to brag to. She tried to make friends on the Internet, but she always said it wasn’t as good as playing a good hand of bunko.”

  Miriam looks around the room and whispers, “You know, it’s too bad y’all don’t have a few of those paparazzi following you around. Mama would have loved it. There was nothing she liked better than a big ole juicy tabloid story. She didn’t even care if it was true. She just liked the huge, splashy pictures.”

  An idea hits me and I hold my finger up. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to Aidan and Tara for a moment. Just so I’m clear, you guys both want copious amounts of trashy news coverage of your mom’s funeral?”

  Aggie’s brows furrow for a moment. “Well, I don’t necessarily want Jerry Springer and his whole crew here, but a tad trashy would be fun because it’s what Mama would’ve wanted.”

  “I want to make this everything you need it to be, so let me see what I can do,” I promise as I dig through the contact list on my phone.

  I track Aidan and Tara down on the bus. Aidan’s thumbing through his song library trying to come up with an appropriate play list for the memorial service.

  When he sees me approach, he asks, “Can I help you?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” I answer with a shrug. “I have an off-the-wall request. I’m trying to make the family happy. Does Madison still have all of her contacts in the newspaper industry?”

  Aidan looks a little confused by my question. “I really don’t know. You’ll have to ask her. Why?”

  “Okay… Keep in mind this wasn’t my idea. Ruth’s daughters thought it would be a great idea to have the paparazzi cover the memorial service.”

  Aidan does a double take and reaches up to check his cochlear implant. “I’m sorry, I thought you said they want the paparazzi to attend.”

  “That is what I said,” I respond. “That’s why I thought it would be a good idea to involve Madison. At least she’d know who was ethical and would treat the story with the appropriate amount of respect. I don’t want it to be twisted into something sick and morbid.”

  Aidan cringes. “And you’ve got how long to pull off this miracle?”

  “Until tomorrow afternoon,” I respond as the enormity of the task starts to hit me. “Darn me and my mouth. Perhaps I should’ve thought ahead before I promised the whole world.”

  Tara shakes her head at me. “Tasha, girlfriend, you’ll need to invoke the powers of the Girlfriend Posse for this.”

  Of course, I’ve heard about the legendary powers of the Girlfriend Posse. I just never thought I’d actually be included in it. “Really? Do you think it’s possible?”

  “Oh, absolutely. We’ve married two couples in a single day and planned whole weddings in a couple days, we can rustle you up some paparazzi. That’s not a big deal.”

  “Thank goodness. I thought for a moment I had promised the impossible.”

  “Ma! Stop screaming at me. I was supposed to look terrible. We were at a funeral for God’s sake. Yes, I know the media was there. That’s what happens when I perform on a public stage. People are interested in what happens in my life. Ruth Ackerman was my friend, and I was honored to perform at her memorial service. I’m sorry I didn’t measure up to your standards.”

  I set my phone down in my lap as I pull my hair back in a ponytail and put in new earrings. I can still hear my mother ranting and raving. Much to my embarrassment, she starts to go on about the alleged relationship between Ruth and Aidan. I look up at Aidan in horror as he scowls at the phone. I know it’s bad when he can hear it from across the bus and over the road noise, even through the distortion of his cochlear implants.

  He motions for me to hand him the phone. I reluctantly hand it down the line of people until it reaches Aidan.

  “Ms. Keeley? How are you today?” he asks, pleasantly at first. My mom must be doing some industrial-strength backpedaling because Aidan looks amused. Then he looks annoyed as he says, “Ms. Keeley, I know we’ve had this discussion befo
re, but I feel the need to remind you that you’re calling your daughter’s workplace. Repeatedly, inappropriately, and without her permission. We have both asked you to stop. Do I need to make things clearer?”

  Aidan’s lips thin out to a grim line and his voice hardens. “No ma’am. You misunderstand the situation. I am not in charge of your daughter’s life and neither are you. She’s a fully grown adult who makes her own decisions. I am her employer, her friend and her mentor. If she chooses to follow my advice, I am honored. However, she doesn’t need to follow my suggestions … or yours. If my mother or anyone I knew spoke to me the way you speak to your daughter, I would run the other direction as quickly as I possibly could. Perhaps you should keep that in mind. For the rest of the day, none of us will be available by telephone because we have a prior engagement. Tasha will contact you when she’s ready. Please don’t bother her until she’s ready to speak to you.”

  Aidan hits the end button on my phone and hands it to the person next to him. It quickly passes back to me.

  Logan, who’s sitting beside me, digs through his backpack and hands me a phone.

  “What’s this?” I ask as he tries to hand me a box.

  “It’s what it looks like — a new phone,” Logan answers as he crosses his arms. “You shouldn’t have to deal with crap from your mom. It’s like an emotional water-boarding every time she calls you. This phone has a new number. I’ve set it up with a masking number for texting so she won’t be able to tell where you’re texting from or call you directly. That way you can check on your grandma anytime you need to.”

  I don’t know if it’s the recent verbal attack from my mom, the fact that we are on the way to St. Jude’s, or the stress of the tour, but I feel like I am about to snap like a frayed guitar string.

  “Do you guys even understand how ridiculous it is that you have to protect me from my own mother? It’s crazy! She should be on my side. You shouldn’t have to bend over backward and do special favors for me because my mom is being a bully.”