Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs

by Sharon Hamilton

  “No. Don’t tell him. Surprise him, sweetie. It will be great. You’ll see.”

  “Thank you, Christy. I just don’t know what to say.”

  “Get your fanny over to that house and get your ass to the airport.”

  Lizzie ran down the hall, knocked at the door and got the unison, “Come In.”

  “Charlotte, honey?” She scrambled to knee next to her daughter. I’m going to leave you here for a little while. Overnight. Maybe two nights. Would you like that?”

  “Where will you be, Mommy?”

  “I’m going to go see your daddy. He’s in Nashville, sweetheart, and I’m going to go see him. Won’t that be great? You can stay here and play with Stephie. Is that okay?”

  At first Charlotte was passive, calculating what had just been told her.

  Brandon piped up. “Tell him to bring me a guitar.”

  “Me too!” shouted Charlotte. Soon all five children were asking for one.

  “I’m not quite sure about all that, guys. If we can’t do it this trip, we’ll see what we can do later, Okay?”

  She hugged Charlotte good-bye, gave another quick hug to Christy and was nearly out the door. She turned back.

  “Don’t you think I should warn him?”

  “You know where he’s staying? You know where he’s performing?”

  “Yes, I got all that.”

  “Make sure you bring it.”

  “I know Nashville. That’s not the issue. Shouldn’t I tell him? What if he has plans?”

  “Plans? I can’t believe you’re saying this, Lizzie. You two are married. What plans could he possibly have that didn’t include you?”

  Chapter 14

  ‡

  Jameson’s suite was outfitted with a bottle of chilled champagne and a huge basket of fruit. He knew he wasn’t the star, but he didn’t mind getting the star treatment. He was going to jump in the shower, get clean and get himself ready. He wanted time to play a little bit to loosen the cobwebs and warm up his voice. Thomas said he’d stop in soon to make some important introductions.

  A gentle knock on the door stopped him from stripping for the shower. Thomas’ arm was around a pockmarked guy with slick down hair wearing a cowboy hat too big for his head. The guy quickly removed it and when he smiled, Jameson saw his front gold tooth glint. He didn’t like the man immediately.

  “Jameson, this is Butch Snyder from Sony Records. My newest best friend.”

  Snyder looked like a Butch. One eye was slightly off, making it hard to know exactly who or what he was looking at.

  “Nice to meet you, sir,” Jameson said, extending his hand.

  “Likewise. I’m keen on hearing your work, Jameson. Didn’t you almost sign a deal with that guy from MCA?”

  “Yes. Close. No cigar.”

  “So where’d you disappear to? I tried to find you, and it wasn’t until I ran into Thomas here, that I was able to track you down.”

  “Thank you, sir. That’s very flattering. Or, at least I think it is.” He hesitated and then remembered his manners. “Come on in, gents.”

  “Nice room, huh?” Thomas fell back on Jameson’s bed. Mr. Snyder examined the fruit basket, opened up the cellophane and, without asking permission, drew out an apple, taking a bite out of it. He hesitated before taking the next bite, holding the fruit at his mouth.

  “You don’t mind if I sample my own gift basket?”

  “Not at all. I don’t eat much before performances, so help yourself.”

  “Yea, that’s what I told them. Some Jack Daniels or something would have been better, I think.”

  “I’d have to agree with you there, sir. But not before the performance.” Jameson noticed Thomas had righted himself and was straightening his clothes. His friend walked through the enormous suite, checking out the room’s appointments. Jameson didn’t like the casual change in his friend’s behavior, and his antennae was on full alert.

  His door remained open to the hallway and several long legged ladies in short skirts and halter-tops sauntered buy. Jameson had snagged their interest. He turned his back on them, frowned and tried to non-verbally show Thomas he wasn’t pleased with the attention.

  The action wasn’t lost on Snyder. “We call them the Andrews sisters. They give the best head this side of the Mississippi.”

  That was the line Jameson wouldn’t cross. “Look, fellas, I’m giving up a last weekend with my wife to be here. I agreed to come because Thomas here is my friend, has always been my friend and been there for me, both in good times and bad. But I’ve made it very clear to him, I’m a happily married man, and I have no desire to go back to some of the ways I behaved when I didn’t know better. You understand?”

  Snyder raised his eyebrows and put his hat back on. Jameson wanted to say something about the fit, but held his tongue. Rule #1 was always if a man was going to wear a hat, he’d better goddamned know how to get one that fits. It sort of pissed him off.

  “No harm, kid.” Snyder sauntered up to him and slapped his upper arm from the side. “Dayam! You got some muscles. You work out?”

  Jameson looked at Thomas for reinforcements again. “Christ, Snyder, don’t you remember a damned thing? This here is a fuckin’ U.S. Navy SEAL. And he goes off to war on Wednesday, as in five, count ’em—” he held up his palm, fingers splayed. “Five days.”

  “Real impressed. I’ll bet they enjoy hearing you sing.”

  Jameson was going to punch the guy if he didn’t get out of the room quick. He stared back at him instead and the gentleman soon got the message.

  Snyder sighed. “I think we’re done here. Thomas, let’s get next door and go over a couple of things.” At the doorway, he turned and then came back, shaking Jameson’s hand. “Nice meeting you, son. I meant no offense. Don’t think I’ve met a SEAL before. I’m right proud of you. Thank you for your service, son.”

  Thankfully, Snyder was gone. Jameson grabbed Thomas by the elbow. “What just happened here?”

  “I think you blew your first chance to make a good impression, Jameson. But not to worry, there are others out there watching you tonight. But keep in mind, they’re watching me also. You’re here because I said you were good enough to be on that stage. So, don’t leave me high and dry. Give them a command performance, and forget all this bullshit, okay?”

  Jameson let go of his arm and Thomas disappeared down the hallway.

  The rumble and crescendo of the audience was something he’d forgotten how much he loved. He’d tried to explain it to people over the years, and, unless they’d been up in a big arena like that, there was no way to understand what it felt like to fly over the heads of the audience while he was singing. The sensation was similar to his jumps. There was no perception of falling, no feeling of depth until the end. It was as if the warm earth blew a blast of air straight up, cradling his body, while the horizon slowly rose, second by second. The rumble of the crowd and the energy of the open-air theater was similar. The adulation, the pinnacle of riding the moment when all their cheers stopped and it was your turn to shine. Your turn to command them like a king.

  He hadn’t thought about all that until just now, as he waited back stage. He was grateful he didn’t know anyone scurrying around back stage. Tech girls and guys ran back and forth, some scantily clad. Pretty girls were all around and in abundance, eyeing him. He didn’t want to dis anyone’s wife or girlfriend, so he was respectful. He found all this activity distracting.

  Thomas was nowhere to be found, and he hoped he hadn’t run into some trouble. Jameson opted not to take the limo ride, so drove over to the arena in a taxi, dodging the bevies of young girls at the security gates trying to spot a star.

  He could do this for two nights. And then it was the pits of hell. How many people on the planet had a life like this, going from one extreme to another? But he knew what world he lived in, belonged in.

  Feeling the rumble of the crowd and how it pushed against his heart as he waited for the introduction, he was amaze
d he’d been strong enough to make the decision to leave it all behind. But he was glad he did. In some moment of weakness, he could do something that would wreck his little family. No, it was better for him and for those he loved that he stay away from it all. This would definitely be the last time for any of this.

  A commotion was stirring behind him. Thomas fought his way over to him as people attempted to pull him back. Jameson hoped it was the panic of his lateness and not something else that caused the ruckus.

  One whiff of his friend, and Jameson suspected the worst. “Dang it, Thomas. No one’s gonna miss the fact that you’re drunk. I can’t have you introducing me like that.”

  His friend rocked back and forth on his cowboy boots like he was searching for something to say. He had on a new shirt heavily laden with rhinestones. He looked presentable. His haircut was expensive and he’d just shaved off the stubble he normally wore day and night. But Jameson noticed his eyes were wild with something he didn’t like. Something had happened in the three months since the wedding, and it wasn’t good.

  Worst of all, Jameson was sorely regretting his decision to come back to Nashville, leaving Lizzie and Charlotte behind. Everything good and pure and wonderful was back in San Diego waiting for him.

  The announcer was on stage, giving the preliminary introductions, calling out the lineup of performers. Jameson heard a loud cheer erupt when he mentioned, “Nashville’s own Jameson Daniels.” An even louder sound came when Thomas’ name was announced. The two former best friends stood across from each other, each on the other side of a chasm the size of the Grand Canyon as they waited for their cue.

  “What is it, Thomas? What’s got into you?” he finally asked.

  “I’m gonna say sorry right now and get it over with.”

  “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

  “I don’t have the time. But you’ll find out pretty damn soon.” The words hit Jameson’s solar plexus, nearly making him vomit.

  Everything erupted when the announcer stopped his pitch, Thomas pushed his way in front of him and walked out on stage. Jameson followed behind, trying to smile. He was terrified. It felt like a public execution or hanging. His throat had constricted so much he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make a sound. Thomas strolled up to the microphone and began what Jameson hoped was his introduction.

  “I’ve been bumping around Nashville, for over twenty years now. That’s longer than some of you have been alive.”

  A girl from the audience yelled, “We love you Thomas.”

  “Love you too, darlin’.” He grinned as the crowd erupted in applause and laughter. Jameson could see that the lights hurt his friend’s eyes. The squinting was making him tear up.

  “You guys know for most of the last six or seven years, this young fella has been at my side. He’s a helluva songwriter. He’s got the voice to match. And the ladies do seem to enjoy looking at him, but I’m catching up. See, I grow on people!”

  Someone from the crowd yelled, “Let’s have some music.”

  Jameson knew it was the early indicator that Thomas wasn’t helping his cause. He decided to take control.

  “So what Thomas is saying, we’re gonna sing together a couple of numbers we used to when we performed down at Halfway. We’re giving you a two-fer.”

  The theater cheered and broke into applause.

  Jameson began his first song, and on purpose, it wasn’t anything Thomas had heard. He’d started working on it that morning after the wedding. While fingering the long intro, he sat on the stool provided, guitar resting on his thigh, and delivered his message to the audience, “It’s called, Loving You Is All I’ll Ever Need.”

  Thomas was doing a poor job of keeping up, but he caught the key as well as the time and kept the accompaniment simple so he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

  The words flowed. Just like he’d told Lizzie, Jameson sang his heart out over the audience, telling them about what it felt like to have a love like he had with Lizzie. A crowd standing down in front of the stage began swaying back and forth. He smiled and winked having as much contact as he dared, but soon he looked out at the sea of faces and wished he could see Lizzie looking back up at him from somewhere in the crowd.

  As he continued, he worried he had put them to sleep. But when he came to the end, there was a dangerous one second gap, and then a thunderous applause and cheering.

  Glancing over at Thomas, Jameson couldn’t help but notice the man had a tear-streaked face. He hoped the audience didn’t see it.

  His friend cleared his throat, stepped up to the microphone. “Beautiful, Jameson. Just beautiful. Now that’s what I’m talking about. Let’s hear it for Jameson Daniels.” The applause was thunderous again.

  Jameson pulled the microphone to his mouth, but checked with Thomas before starting the prearranged second song, “She’s Got My Eyes.” This time, his friend had no trouble keeping up, and they alternated stanzas. The old chemistry between them began to come back—the easy times of their past before the craziness of fame, fortune, birth and marriage, and of course, war.

  The backup band got into it as well. They repeated the refrains twice, once by each of them, allowing the musicians some space to add their talents and share in the limelight, so that by the time the song was over, nearly the whole ampetheater was on its feet, clapping and dancing.

  Jameson knew getting an audience this warmed up for a big act to follow was hard work, and required a dose of magic, but somehow, they’d pulled it off. Thomas wiped his forehead and then thanked Jameson for coming on stage with him.

  It was always best to leave when everyone wanted to hear more. He didn’t have the agreement for an encore, so when Thomas turned toward him as he was leaving the stage, Jameson shook his head and then motioned with his arms, “no more.”

  His friend grabbed the microphone. “Ah, that’s too bad. Well, ladies and gentlemen, Jameson Daniels will be here tomorrow night as well. So, you’ll get your second dose then. Right here, same time.”

  The crowd clapped politely.

  Thomas continued. “Part of the reason I asked my friend to come here tonight is because he and I worked on several projects together. He’d start a song, and then we’d finish it together. He’d add this, I’d add that, and so forth.” He padded his forehead again, getting his breath.

  “Sometimes you write a song, and just can only go so far with it. It takes someone else to finish it.”

  Jameson felt his fists tighten.

  “This one he gave me just before he went off to his military training. Oops! I forgot to tell you all, Jameson is one of the Navy’s finest.” He glanced backstage again, but Jameson gave him the sign of the knife at the neck. “Okay, ’nuf said about that, then. He’s ready to go to work for all of us, to deploy overseas, as a matter of fact, next week!”

  Whistles and cheers filled the room.

  “Yes, he deserves all that. I hope you’ll tell him so tomorrow night. So, anyway, I took this song, and I worked with it, I even sang it at Jameson’s wedding this summer.”

  Now Jameson’s dark mood erupted. He felt the same anger and betrayal he did on his wedding day when he heard Thomas singing his song, some of his words, but his entire melody and refrain. Now he knew what Thomas had been so uncomfortable with.

  His friend began the ballad that he’d had trouble finding words to. Thomas had skillfully pieced it together and although he would have made different word choices, the song hung together, and was even improved upon since the wedding. The crowd was mesmerized.

  Thomas finished it and bowed to the audience, who rose to their feet with thunderous approval.

  “That, ladies and gentlemen, is my new hit single from Sony Music, soon to be part of my new album, Son Of My Heart, dedicated to none other than the man, Mr. Jameson Daniels.”

  Thomas swept his left arm out, motioning him to come up on stage, but Jameson didn’t want any part of it. He heard the slimy voice of Butch Snyder behind him. “Come on, son. It gets better. Give t
he man his due.”

  Jameson smelled his garlic fries and hated everything about what had just taken place. It was beyond the lowest of the low to steal another songwriter’s song, and then dedicate that same song back to him. “When were you guys gonna tell me?”

  “We just did, kid. Welcome to the music business. Now, play nice, and we’ll see if we can do some business later on.”

  Over my dead body.

  Without looking back, he grabbed his guitar, and left the arena.

  Chapter 15

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  Lizzie enjoyed the company of the SEALs she flew with from Team 5. Their deployment had already returned and they’d just finished debriefing. Two of the men knew Jameson. She loved the respect they showed her. All of them were single, looking forward to spending the weekend participating in a military symposium, a job fair. They called it “looking for red meat.” All of them had spent at least two tours overseas.

  She was dying to ask them about what life would be like for Jameson, but they reminded her that all the Teams didn’t go to the same places. Sometimes even the time away from US soil varied.

  “When he comes home, let him sleep a whole bunch. He might not want to talk very much, so don’t pepper him with questions. I drive my mom nuts when I come home. She wants to ask me everything, and I can’t tell her diddly,” one handsome Special Operator said.

  The SEALs had a van they’d rented, and they dropped Lizzie off at the Starwood Arena, whistling as they heard the cheering crowds.

  When Lizzie was at last alone, she hoisted her weekend bag over her shoulder and headed for the security gate. Guards barred her entry. She tried to explain who she was and she was still denied access.

  Finally she managed to get word to Thomas, who was still at the arena. He was nice enough to come to the gate while music blared into the night sky, making it nearly impossible to hear.