I looked at my hands, willing my eyes not to tear up again.
“It would never work between us.”
“Why not?”
The whole thing came tumbling out. Every reason I’d given myself. Every reason I’d given Dex. “Because he’s a big star. And there are always a lot of bimbos around. And because of those horrible pictures.” I looked into Mom’s blue eyes, a carbon copy of my own. “And because I want to be more than some man’s wife.”
Mom looked away and I was afraid I’d hurt her feelings. “You don’t want to be me.” Mom was more perceptive than I’d ever given her credit for.
“I love you, Mom. And I respect what you’ve done. I just…want something different.”
Mom was quiet for a minute and I was just about to open my mouth and apologize all over the place. Maybe claim a drug addiction. Any reason to backtrack on what I’d said. But Mom spoke first.
“I know, Sydney. And I’ve always respected you for that.”
“Huh?” Aliens had kidnapped my real mother, I was sure. The one who bought me sweater sets and whose entire life revolved around the Ladies’ Auxiliary.
“You’re so strong, Sydney—stronger than I ever was. You know what you want and you’re going for it.” She gave me a smile and patted my leg. “I know it’s been harder than you let on. And I’m proud of you for keeping with this music thing of yours and for not giving up. I probably don’t tell you that enough.”
Tears threatened again, but this time it was happy tears and I hugged my Mom.
“My dearest wish in life is to see you happy, Sydney.” She stroked my hair back from my face as she had when I was a child. “You’ve been fearless in going after whatever you wanted. If this man is what you want, then go after him. Figure out a way to sort through all the crap and make it work.”
I did cry then. Right there on my mother’s shoulder in the middle of the atrium, like I was fifteen again and suffering my first broken heart.
“I wish I could, Mom. I just don’t see a way.”
Chapter Nine
“I can’t believe you dumped Dex Wilder,” Becca said as we cleared the last table of beer bottles and cocktail napkins and half-eaten crab cakes. “You’ve clearly lost your mind.”
I tugged at the rented poodle skirt that was about a size too big and picked up the tray full of garbage. At least the saddle shoes were comfy and it was nice having my hair up off my neck in a high, bouncy 50’s style ponytail. I headed towards the kitchen area of VFW hall where we’d just waited on about 60 Korean War veterans during their annual dinner reunion. “I didn’t dump him. We were never together.” Not really.
“Uh huh. That’s not the picture I remember seeing on the cover of The Rag.”
“Sex together and together-together are two different things, Becca.”
“I know. I just thought... Well, it seemed like you two had more than just a hook-up going on.”
“Well, we didn’t.”
She knew I was lying and I could tell she wanted to say something else, but after all the emotional stuff with my mom a few days earlier, I just wasn’t in the mood to go there again.
Becca started to speak, but Ricky came in and she went to work unloading the garbage and putting the glasses in the sink.
“Good job tonight, girls,” he said pulling out a wad of cash, presumably from the tip jar. Ricky tended bar at some of the gigs to save money and usually shared the take with us.
He split the cash in half and handed us each a handful of ones. “You girls worked your tails off tonight and everybody said what a great shindig it was, even shorthanded as we were.”
“Thanks, Ricky. That’s nice.” I took the money and stuck it in my pocket.
“I hope you’re not going to quit on me now that you’ve got your rich boy toy,” he said grinning at me.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go there,” Becca said, putting her half of the cash in her bra.
“It’s ok, Becca.” I turned back to Ricky. “No danger there. Don’t worry. I’ll be lugging trays and cleaning up beer until I’m eighty.”
“Good,” Ricky said patting my shoulder. “You girls need a ride home?”
“No, but thanks,” I said, and Becca and I headed home in my Toyota.
I hadn’t been to the apartment all day and when I checked the mail, there was an official-looking envelope mixed in with the stack of bills and pizza coupons that choked our mailbox.
A record label’s name and address was in the return address, but I recognized the hand writing in the address was Dex’s.
“Anything good?” Becca asked coming up the stairs behind me. I shoved the letter under some other mail and smiled. “Nope, nothing but bills.”
Becca went inside and dropped her stuff on the floor. I followed but went straight to my room. “I’m hitting the sack.”
“See you in the morning,” Becca said, settling into the couch cushions with a bag of Doritos.
I sat on my bed and stared at the envelope for a full five minutes, a range of emotions coursing through my body, making my fingers tremble. Excitement. Disappointment. Pain. Hope.
I ripped open the flap and pulled out the letter. Two tickets fell into my lap, but I didn’t bother to look at them. I unfolded the letter.
Sydney,
I’ve been invited to perform at the Opry Saturday night. I know I said I’d leave you alone but I can’t stop thinking about you. It would mean a lot to me if you were there.
Love,
Dex
It was short, but I could feel the sincerity in every word. And that one four-letter word before his name. I’d never heard him use it before. It sent my heart tripping, and even though I knew it was a sentiment I could easily share if I let myself, I couldn’t go there. I just couldn’t. I picked up the tickets and stared at them for a moment.
I wanted to go. And I didn’t. And I did.
I could feel Dex’s emotions though his short note. His excitement about finally being taken seriously as a performer worthy to grace the Opry’s stage. I knew that feeling. How could I say no? And how could I say yes if I ever expected to put my feelings for him and our impossible potential relationship behind me? I couldn’t. But I couldn’t let him down, either. This would be it. Our final meeting. I’d watch from the audience, then go home and forget all about Dex Wilder. For good.
I picked up the tickets and went to my bedroom door.
“Hey, Becca? What are you doing Saturday night?”
* * * *
A few times a year, when the newer Opry venue was being used for something else, the Opry came home to the Ryman. The night of Dex’s Opry debut was one of those nights and the theatre was filled to capacity.
The auditorium was intimidating when it was empty. Now, with 2300 people filling the seats, I couldn’t imagine performing on the stage without puking my guts out beforehand.
The energy of the audience was nearly tangible. People from all walks of life, from tourists to locals, celebrities to nobodies, rich, to just-making-it by sat side-by-side in the antique church pews filling the hall. People wore everything from formal dress, to jeans, to full-on country-western costumes. It was as diverse and as varied a crowd as you could imagine, but they were all there for one reason. It was all about the music.
Becca and I had good seats on the bottom level, right on the center aisle. We were close enough to the stage to see the sweat on the performers’ brows but not so close we had to crane our necks to do so.
We got there well before the opening act and I couldn’t help but wonder if Dex was nervous. He’d performed hundreds of shows in front of large crowds. But the Opry was special, and an artist’s first performance here was like losing his virginity. It symbolized not just record sales or radio air play or concert ticket sales, but his true acceptance as an artist by his peers. He’d topped the charts for two years and only just now been invited to perform at the Opry.
It was a big night for Dex and I was honored he’d wanted me to be the
re, even if I still wasn’t sure I should be.
“Did you see who is sitting two rows behind us?” Becca whispered.
I turned casually and glanced back. “George Strait,” I whispered.
“I don’t care how old he is. He’s hot.” Becca smiled over her shoulder at the poor man.
I’d spotted several big time country stars in attendance tonight, but was trying not to be a total fan girl about it. That wasn’t the Nashville way. People treated celebrities just like the neighbors they were, and even though I was a transplant from the Midwest, I got it.
“Knock it off, Becca. He’s married.”
The lights blinked and went down and the emcee came out to greet the crowd.
My palms were sweating and I could barely sit still in my seat, waiting to see Dex, on stage.
There were several acts before him, though I couldn’t have told you who they were. All I could think about was Dex.
Finally the emcee took the stage to introduce him.
“And making his first Opry appearance, a man who needs no introduction. Double platinum recording artist and CMA’s entertainer of the year, Dex Wilder!”
The crowd applauded and my heart beat a pounding rhythm in my chest. When Dex walked out, it nearly stopped.
Dex wore his signature black cowboy hat, dark jeans and black boots. His face was clean shaven, though, and under the lights, the planes and valleys of his face were even more pronounced. He flashed the crowd a winning smile while he adjusted the mic stand. And bid everyone good evening.
He sat on the stool in the middle of the stage by himself and the lights dimmed, except for a small spotlight on Dex. He cradled his guitar across his lap and propped one booted foot on the rung of the stool.
He was so handsome he took my breath away. He was every cowboy fantasy I’d ever had, but better. Because I knew he was real. He had that unusual kind of magnetism really stellar performers have, but that wasn’t the only reason I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
He alone on the stage wasn’t his usual set-up. His big, loud party songs usually boasted the full back-up band, complete with electric guitars, drums and sometimes a banjo or violin. And scantily clad back-up singers. They were almost as famous as Dex himself, kind of like the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders. But tonight it was just Dex and his guitar.
He looked so small on stage. And when he flashed a nervous smile, I knew what he was about to do.
“No,” I whispered.
“What’s wrong?” Becca asked.
“He’s going to blow his contract,” I said.
“What?”
“Just listen.”
My hands were clamped together, white-knuckled in my lap and I knew I was chewing every bit of lip gloss off my lips.
Dex strummed a few times, the beginning of the familiar melody spilling out. Nerves. He’s nervous.
Dex looked up and addressed the crowd again. “I know you folks are expecting a party song from me tonight, but I thought I’d do something a little different. This is something I’ve been working on with a very talented new songwriter,” Dex looked straight at me and my breath caught. “And someone who is very special to me.” He nodded. “Thanks for being here, Syd.”
I smiled weakly and nodded back. Hundreds of eyes went to me, but I only had eyes for Dex.
He smiled at me and turned his attention to the guitar.
The melody came easily and sure to his fingers. He’s been practicing and knew the tune by heart. I could hear the crowd behind me whispering, a little confused but curious as to what the hell Dex was doing. I was sure if Dex’s agent, manager or other handlers were here or at home listening to the broadcast, they were about to pop something.
What the heck was Dex doing? He had a successful career. Made lots of money. So he did shallow little party songs. There were hundreds of musicians in Nashville, probably listening to the show right now, who would kill to have the career Dex had and here he was, willing to throw it all away—to risk everything for something he believed in...for something he loved.
A wave of warmth spread over me and I realized I was looking at the bravest man I’d ever known.
The notes echoed through the auditorium, low and sweet and thready at first, building to a stronger line as his rich baritone blended with the music and the lyrics perfectly.
With every note he sang, I could feel the crowd’s growing awe. Dex was good. He truly had talent and knew how to use it. And he was risking everything to show people what he could do.
Shivers ran though me as I heard my words—our words—the lyrics we’d written at his house that night, spill elegantly from his mouth. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine he was singing just for me and that we were alone…that things had turned out differently between us.
He sang the two verses we wrote, then played a bridge I hadn’t heard before. I opened my eyes and stared at him. It was perfect. And then he launched into the third verse.
He looked directly at me and I could feel thousands of eyes on me, gauging my reaction. Gauging his.
The song was about the rush of lust at first sight that consumed him. But the third verse was about something deeper. How the emotion had crept up on him until he could think of nothing else. Until he’d fallen in love totally unexpectedly. It was about us.
The song ended on a hopeful note, the narrator wanting to know if the woman he adored felt the same way.
I swallowed. And smiled weakly.
The final notes of the song wound out sweet yet hopeful, echoing throughout the completely silent auditorium.
I held my breath. Would it be well received, or would Dex be basically blackballed from performing the music he’d chosen? Would the fans let him change or would his career end right there?
There was a shocked lull.
And then the place went wild.
2300 feet hit the floor at the same time as everyone stood and clapped and cheered for Dex.
He looked a little shocked at first, then smiled. Bigger than I’d ever seen him smile before.
“Are you ok?” Becca shouted into my ear and it was then I realized tears were streaming down my face.
I wiped them away. “Yeah.”
Dex had risked it all for what he wanted. Professionally and even personally with me when he told me how he felt. He’d taken a chance, risking everything he’d worked so hard to build.
And what about me? I was afraid of a tabloid photo and a few backhanded remarks? It seemed silly now as I stood looking up at Dex, the man I knew I’d come to love for his honesty and his bravery and his good heart. He had a bad-boy past I’d have to deal with, but Dex looked down at me from the stage with so much love in his eyes it hurt.
I slid out of the seat and hurried up the aisle.
Dex was still at the mic thanking everyone. The crowd was still cheering and clapping and yee-hawing. The sound was deafening. And heavenly.
I hurried up the aisle, Becca right behind me and headed for the backstage area as I heard Dex tell everyone goodnight.
Dex was the last act of the night and I couldn’t wait one more second to see him. To touch him. To tell him everything that had hit me like a ton of bricks only moments before.
I loved him. And I had to tell him so immediately, if not sooner.
It took a long time to make my way through the crowd and when I got backstage, the burly security guard who had put me in handcuffs the first time I’d crashed Dex’s dressing room stood sentinel outside his door again. Dex had made him his chief of security. But this time I had Becca.
“You can’t go in there, Miss—” he narrowed his eyes. “Oh, it’s you.”
He radioed for back-up and pulled his handcuffs off his belt.
“You’re not getting by me again, Missy.”
I crouched, too, ready to do whatever was necessary to get to Dex.
“Oh yes I am.”
Suddenly a banshee whoop pierced the air and Becca launched herself at the guard.
I
ran past him and into Dex’s dressing room, slamming the door behind me.
I leaned against the door, panting. I heard Becca’s yells as she was carted away and smiled. I’d be bailing her out of jail in an hour, I was sure.
Dex walked out of the bathroom, toweling his sweaty hair. And when he saw me, his whole face lit up.
“You came. I can’t even tell you how much that means to me, Sydney.”
I brushed my hair out of my face and walked over to him.
“Yeah. I came.”
“I’m glad.” He slung the towel around his neck and gripped the ends with white-knuckled hands.
We started to speak at the same time, apologizing, mostly.
“Go ahead,” he said, looking down at me. I could feel the intensity of his gaze on me, his body heat. But the look he gave me, one of so much hope and love was what sent my pulse skyward this time.
“You were amazing.” I shook my head when he tried to interrupt. “No. Truly amazing. The performance, yeah, but just your pure courage. To put it all on the line.”
“Or amazingly stupid.”
I moved towards him until his lips were only a few inches from mine.
His hands dropped from the towel to my shoulders.
“You’re pretty amazing, too,” he said. There was a sad note in his voice. “I know I said I’d leave you alone—”
That was when I raised up on my tiptoes and kissed him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and put everything I was feeling into that one kiss.
And when we broke apart, he was smiling.
“Does this mean—”
I kissed him again and there were no more questions.
He leaned in and kissed me, uncertainty gone, leaving only Dex and me and the passion that had run hot between us from the first time we met.
He pulled back. “You know most of those pictures, the Bimbo of the Week thing—those are really old pictures. There haven’t been any women on the bus since I started seeing you.”
“Thanks. But I don’t care about anything that happened before tonight. You’re mine now.”
Nashville Boxed Set #1-3 Page 12
