Jude’s Song

by Mary Crawford

  “I can make that deal. We’ll be playing in Boulder, Colorado over Thanksgiving break. Is that close enough to your birthday?”

  “Yeah, it’s only nine days away from Thanksgiving.”

  “Well, consider that your birthday present. I’ll fly you and your family and your sister — if she’s home from college — to the concert. Tell your mom not to worry about it.”

  “Oh wow, that’s a lot of money,” Hayden says. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

  “I’m sure. A certain production company accidentally gave us tons of free publicity and Aidan and I were able to push three songs up the charts. Sometimes, someone else’s bad karma is your good karma. I’m just paying it forward. I’m looking forward to seeing you guys at the concert. It’ll be a blast.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  JUDE

  TASHA IS IN BEAST MODE tonight. I haven’t seen her this happy in a while. It’s almost as if having the decision about nursing school behind her has freed her to fully enjoy music again.

  I join her as we sing harmony on the last chord of the song. I wink at her as she gives me a high five before moving over to her next mark. I always feel a buzz when I sing with Tasha.

  She literally gave the musician in me a voice. It was an incredible gift I’ll never be able to repay.

  The stage will never be my second home like it is for Tasha, but I’m gradually finding my bearings. I walk up next to Jerome as he plays the bass. He flashes me a bright smile as Aidan and Tasha play a complicated guitar riff. I lean into the mic next to him and we play our own embellishment. It’s great fun to be part of this group even if I am still on the fringes. Every day, I live in fear of having another incident like I had in Nashville. I even went to talk to the psychologist Tasha found. Although she usually works with actors, she was happy to work with me. We’ve talked a lot about what happened during my worst-case scenario and how I survived it and I’m still alive, so if I can make a plan to get through my nerves, I can survive anything. So far, knowing I have an exit strategy and I’m prepared for whatever comes up has helped me just relax and enjoy what’s happening on stage. Because after all, it is really all about the music.

  Speaking of the music, my girlfriend is amazing.

  Tasha is strong and completely sexy as she leads a guitar solo. She is shredding the guitar with complete confidence. The guys in the band are struggling to keep up with her tonight. She is totally in the pocket. She looks and sounds amazing. Her dark hair is falling around her shoulders like satin. I have to give myself a mental pinch when I realize despite all of her beauty, fans and fame, when we go home, she’s all mine. My life is unbelievably good.

  Tasha and Aidan start to jam on his new song, an anthem for soldiers who serve overseas and their families. I’ve met a couple of the guys who inspired this song because they’re good friends of Aidan’s, and they’re stand up guys. Tyler works for a sheriff’s office near where we live and he had to talk me down after it seemed like the Memphis force had put Tasha’s case on the back burner. Tyler’s about as solid as they come. If he tells me things are progressing like they’re supposed to, I guess I need to take it at face value.

  Aidan and Tara’s whole group of friends is in the audience tonight, so this whole concert has been like one huge party. Mindy’s parents are even here, and Mindy is waiting in the wings backstage to come onstage. Tasha and Mindy have been working on a brand-new song that's absolutely killer. Both of them are excited about it. I am not psychic like Mindy, but I have a feeling this one could do well on the charts.

  Mindy and Tasha’s duet is next on the play list. Even though I do more than manage the equipment now, old habits die hard. I quickly scan the stage to make sure both of their guitars are on their marks for the scene change. Tasha catches me looking and gives me a thumbs up as she goes to the edge of the stage to do a guitar riff. She’s grinning from ear-to-ear as Aidan dances around her, effectively highlighting her playing skills.

  Suddenly, every light in the arena goes out and I hear Tasha shriek my name. Through my ear piece I hear Logan tersely command, “Sit-rep. Now!

  I hear Stella say, “Green!”

  Jerome follows. “Green for me and all the band on the dais.”

  I hear Aidan breathe heavily as he reports, “I’m green but Tasha is red. She’s down.”

  At that moment, my brain shuts down and I struggle to follow protocol as I check in, “I’m green. What do you mean she’s red? What the hell do you mean, Aidan?”

  Just then, Tasha’s voice comes over my earpiece as she says, “For God sakes, chill out. I am not red; at most I am yellow. I fell off the stupid stage in the dark. I may have broken my ankle, but who knows. I fell over the monitor, so I didn’t even fall far. I’m yellow. I’m not red — repeat, I’m yellow. Jude, did you hear that I’m yellow? Do not freak out, okay? There’s a whole audience here.”

  As usual, Tasha has a point. Although I cannot see the audience because it’s still dark, they’re still there and they’re as scared as I am. Only they have no idea what happened to the people on the stage.

  Using a skill I learned from my grandfather, I whistle through my teeth. It’s piercing and loud.

  The audience quiets some, but it’s still noisy. I try again and more people settle down.

  Jerome makes his way over and taps me on the shoulder. He’s lucky I didn’t punch him; I was not expecting him to be anywhere close. “Brother, you’re a good songwriter, but I doubt anybody here can talk as loud as me.”

  I step aside and say, “By all means, I was just going to tell them what’s going on.”

  “Do we know what’s going on?” Jerome asks barely loud enough for me to hear.

  “Not precisely, but I was planning to tell them we’re all fine and the power should be restored shortly. Ask them to sit tight.”

  “Good plan,” he responds quietly. Turning back toward the audience he yells, “Yo Eugene! Never let it be said Aidan O’Brien concerts aren’t exciting. Everything’s good though — everything’s good except for our resident rocker who danced her way off the stage in the dark. If you all could make the way clear for the paramedics, we’d appreciate that. Otherwise, just sit tight. Oh, by the way if you’ve got a glow stick, now would be a good time to use it.”

  Tasha probably would not be pleased if she knew she was snoring. Honestly, I’m happy to hear the sound. It’s been a grueling night. I can tell from the light coming through the blinds it’s morning now, but Tasha just got to sleep. We’ve been waiting for an orthopedic radiologist to come look at her x-rays. They’re not certain if she has a fracture or not. She had some extremely painful muscle spasms in her ankle and foot, so they hooked her up to some IV pain medication — which makes her sleepy.

  The scene at the concert venue was completely chaotic. At first, I was afraid the power outage had something to do with the threat on our lives, but it turned out to be caused by a sixteen-year-old learning how to drive. He had a very painful run-in with a power transformer. It took out the grid serving the arena. For reasons no one can explain, the generators didn’t kick on as they were supposed to. By the time Tasha was transported to the hospital, she was in tears. I’m glad to see the medication seems to control her pain for the moment.

  I stand up to stretch my legs. I need to get out of here. The smells in this place remind me too much of when mi tío was passing on. I know Tasha won't die, but the memories are there all the same. As I enter the hallway, I can’t help but look over my shoulder to see if anyone is taking pictures. It’s become second nature to me.

  I’m surprised to see Howard Manis sitting quietly in the vibrantly colored chairs in the little waiting room off the hallway clutching a bedraggled bouquet of spring flowers.

  With his head propped against the wall, he appears to be half-asleep. As I approach, I announce myself quietly. “Howie … It’s Jude. What are you doing here?”

  He startles for half a second before he straightens his glasses and focuses
his eyes. When he sees me, he asks immediately, “How’s my Tasha?”

  His phrasing is odd, but then again, he and Tasha go back a long way. Perhaps, I don’t know the whole story. I rake my fingers through my hair as I explain, “We’re still waiting for a definitive diagnosis on her foot and ankle. She landed funny on the monitor when she fell, so there could still be some damage.”

  “Oh, my poor baby. Is she in any pain?”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Mr. Manis, I have to ask you, are you asking this as a reporter?”

  Howard appears embarrassed as he looks around the hallway. He lowers his voice to a whisper as he answers, “No, right now I couldn’t care less about my job. This is about Natasha. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.”

  I crowd into his personal space. “If you know anything about who is stalking her, you better talk. This crap is getting serious.”

  “Somebody’s trying to hurt Tash?” Howard asks with a look of genuine surprise. “No, no I don’t know anything about that.”

  “Then what are you talking about?” I press.

  “I was talking about Nadine,” Howard confesses. “That woman is horrible. She'll make Tasha feel responsible for this even though she had nothing to do with the accident.” Howard leans down to pick up the flowers he dropped and hands them to me. “I just want to make sure she gets these. Maybe they’ll make things a little easier.”

  “Thank you, I’m sure she’ll appreciate them, but can we go back to the fact that you know about Nadine? I know Tasha doesn’t share that part of her life with very many people. How do you know about her relationship with her mother?”

  “You’re right, I don’t really know about how things are currently, but I know what kind of person Nadine is,” Howard clarifies.

  “Howard, you still haven’t explained how you know this? It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Tasha would voluntarily share, especially with reporters.”

  “I already told you this has nothing to do with my job as a reporter — although most people wouldn’t call me an honest reporter. This is more personal than that. I know how Nadine acts because she used to be my sister-in-law.”

  My brain is going into overdrive as I try to process all the things he just told me. “Wait? So… you’re Tasha’s uncle?”

  He nods as tears gather at the corners of his eyes. "Natasha Leslie Keeley was 7 pounds, 8 ounces when she was born with the brightest eyes you’ve ever seen. She was the apple of my brother’s eye. I’ve never seen anybody so proud. He was on cloud nine.”

  “If he was so happy to have her in his life, where is he now?” I challenge.

  “Shortly after Natasha won her battle with leukemia, Lester lost his. I buried him in his favorite Yankees jersey. He and Tasha used to watch the baseball games in the hospital, and he taught her all the songs about baseball.”

  “Tasha never said a word about her dad having cancer. Did she even know?”

  Howard shakes his head as he says, “No, Lester refused to tell them. Nadine was busy trying to make sure Tasha made it. Lester didn’t want to make it any more complicated than it had to be. He went to visit Tasha one day in the hospital, kissed her goodbye, and never came back. He went to go visit a friend of a friend who had a cottage in the Caribbean. After he said goodbye to Tasha, it was just a matter of time.”

  I’m still trying to get this straight in my head, so I ask again. “He knew he was dying and he didn’t bother to tell his wife?”

  “That about sums it up. He didn’t tell any of us until after it was too late. He figured Nadine’s efforts needed to be focused on Tasha and not split between the two of them. Nadine was so tired and they battled all the time. It was easy for everyone to believe they’d gone their separate ways. Even as his oldest brother, I didn’t know the truth until I had to get his affairs into order.”

  “That’s a mind-blowing story. I don’t know how Tasha will react to this. I think she believes the only family she has left is her mom and her Nana. Even though she’ll be psyched to find out you are her uncle, I’m not looking forward to being the one who tells her that her father is dead. After all these years of not having any word one way or the other, I believe she still harbors the hope that one day he'll pop back into her life and apologize for all the years he’s been missing.”

  “I never planned to tell her who I was. I’ve been watching her grow up for years. I was so glad when Mr. O’Brien took her under his wing. It’s been a pleasure to watch the two of you fall in love. I have beautiful pictures of your relationship on stage if you’d like them. I didn’t set out to upset my dear Natasha. Lester would’ve done anything to prevent that. We can keep this conversation between us. I want you to know — if she’s in danger, I’ll be helping to watch out for her too.”

  I reach out to shake his hand. “For now, that might be the best approach. When Tasha’s feeling stronger, we might have a different conversation. I am grateful Tasha has one more person in her life who cares about her though.”

  Tasha’s phone rings in my coat pocket. I hold up my finger and whisper to Howard, “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

  He nods and walks toward the nurses’ station with his bouquet in his hand.

  I turn and head toward the exit of the hospital as I greet the caller tersely, “Hello.”

  I don’t know why, given what I’ve just been talking about with Howard, but I am surprised to hear Nadine’s voice.

  “Oh no, it’s you again. What are you doing with my daughter’s phone?”

  “I have it so it doesn’t wake her up,” I explain simply.

  “It’s nine o’clock in the morning, why wouldn’t my daughter be up?” Nadine demands.

  I roll my eyes so hard I’m sure that Nadine can hear the motion through the cell phone. “Ms. Keeley, it’s nine o’clock in New York, but it’s six o’clock in the morning in Oregon. We’ve had a very rough night. Tasha has a good reason to be sleeping.”

  “Yes, I know. They called here to check the status of Tasha’s health insurance. I had to verify her phone number with the hospital. It's just disgraceful that my daughter won’t even give me her cell phone number. You’d think she’d care more about her mother since I’m her only family. It was downright embarrassing that I didn’t know my daughter’s phone number. I had to pretend to have Alzheimer’s in order to get it. I’m sure glad I live in New York and not out there in the wilderness. I’d be so embarrassed to show my face,” she rambles on.

  I bite my tongue to stop myself from revealing what I know about Tasha’s whole family. I’ll probably regret this later, but something about her tone sets me off. I walk out the front door of the hospital and down the sidewalk a way before I state sardonically, “In case you were wondering, when Tasha fell off a stage several feet above ground, she wasn’t horribly injured.”

  “If she isn’t so injured then why is she racking up a hospital bill? Shouldn’t Aidan be picking that up because she was injured on the job?”

  “I’m beginning to understand why your daughter has a difficult time talking to you. I think you missed the headline here. Your daughter could have been seriously injured, and she wasn’t. That’s the good news. The bad news is, she hurt her ankle. If I thought you cared at all about Tash, I’d let you talk to her, but obviously, you don’t. You only care about the dollars and cents of your daughter’s career, and her artistry and skill are so far above the dollars and cents that you’ll never get it.”

  “Well, you don’t get what she’s about, either. You’re just hanging on because she can teach you how to sing on stage. I’ve been watching the tabloids about the two of you. You’re nothing but a pretty-boy gold-digger. She has you fooled. She doesn’t even plan to stay in show business — even though that’s what God designed her to do. She’s been singing since before she could talk, but she plans to turn her back on all of it so she can go be Florence Nightingale and dump bed pans. Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous?”

 
“I don’t think it’s so ridiculous. I’ll admit I didn’t understand Tasha’s decision at first, but now I do. I support whatever dream she has because it’s her life.”

  “You know what kind of skill my daughter has. You’ve heard her sing and you admitted she’s one of the most talented people you’ve ever heard. How can you let her throw it all away? I’ve been planning her career for years, and she just throws it back in my face like it’s nothing. All the hard work and sacrifices I’ve made for her?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you to make you feel better about that, but I know Tasha’s dreams are important too. This is Tasha’s life and not yours. If you wanted a career in show business so badly, perhaps you should’ve pursued it yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go back and check on Tasha and make sure she’s okay.”

  “Well, I don’t know where you think you get off, young man. You don’t have the right to talk that way.”

  “Perhaps not. But I know I love Tasha very much and it’s my job to protect her from things that cause her pain. It seems you’re one of the chief causes of her pain, so while she’s unable to protect herself, I’ll speak for her.”

  “Why, I never! I have lots of influence with Mr. O’Brien. I can make sure you’re fired and can’t work in the industry anymore. No one speaks to me that way. Do you understand? No one!”

  “I apologize, Ms. Keeley. However, if you don’t want people to be rude to you, you shouldn’t be rude to them or to the people they love.”

  I push the end button on my phone and hope I haven’t pushed the end button on my relationship with Tasha.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  TASHA

  I’VE GOT MY FOOT PROPPED up on a couple of guitar cases on a chair and I’m trying to write a snippet of notes and lyrics before they slide out of my brain. They were there this morning when I was in the shower, but now that I’m attempting to put them down on paper, they seem to have vanished into thin air. I wish I had Jude’s ability to see a song all the way through from start to finish in living color. Unfortunately, my songwriting brain doesn’t work the same way his does. I need to go note by note and phrase by phrase. It’s much slower and more methodical. I can’t see the finished song until it’s done.