by Devyn Dawson
I touch my lips with my fingers. “Do you kiss all of your assailants’?”
“Only when they smell like you. You look delicious,” he whispers in my ear.
“Thank you, birthday boy. How’s your visit with your grandma?” I take his hand and walk with him to the door.
“So far the visit is going good. She’s been mostly business, telling me what’s been going on at the farm. Doing the same old shaming that I don’t come home often enough. I was just there at Christmas.”
“Oh, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s great. If she asks you about that hickey, just tell her you burned yourself.”
My hand goes straight to my neck. “I don’t have a hickey! Do I? How?” I frantically search in my purse for a mirror.
“You’re so gullible, I love it. You don’t have a hickey.” He takes my hand and leads me to our table.
The restaurant is decorated with lit candles and fresh roses everywhere. Across the room, looking out over a water garden sits a middle aged woman dressed to the nines. She stands up and gives me an approving glance.
“Grandma, this is Holland, Holland this is my grandma, Florence,” Tate says and pulls out a chair for me.
“Nice to meet you Holland, you are as pretty as Tate has been saying. Not that I’d doubt anything from him. We ordered an appetizer, it should be here soon.”
“Hi Miss Florence, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Tate speaks so highly of you.”
“Just Florence, love.” She sits down and we all place our napkin in our lap.
Florence is lively with a glint in her eye as she talks about life on the farm. Her near-black hair is styled in one of the bobs that angles along the jawline, it accentuates her round cheeks. If he hadn’t told me she was his grandma, I would have guessed she was his mother.
Dinner is filled with stories about Tate and his grandfather fishing at the pond. She talks with her hands, and I spend too much time being dazzled by the sparkle in her jewelry. The waiter was called sug every time he came over and refilled one of our drinks. It took me a while to realize it was short for sugar. Florence told me about growing up in Alabama until she met Craig, Tate’s grandfather. His family owned the farm and he was told he’d inherited it one day, which he did. The farm will be handed down to Tate when she passes away and he’ll carry on the farmer’s life.
Tate fidgeted awkwardly whenever she talked about him moving back to the farm. I know from our long talks on the phone at night that he doesn’t want to be a farmer until he’s older. He originally told her thirty, but with every birthday he feels as if his time will come before he’s done everything he wants. She doesn’t ask any questions about my family, so I guess Tate told her how screwed up I am.
A fancy cupcake with one lit candle is set in front of Tate. No singing or clapping, not even a soft Happy Birthday from the waiter.
Tate blushes as he blows out his candle. Florence smiles and hands him a small box. He opens the gift and pulls out a fancy sports watch. He was telling me the other day about wanting to know if anyone in the mall sells runners watches. I told him he would have to go to the other mall to get good running gear.
After he takes it out, he fiddles with a button but I stop him before he puts it on. “Can I see it?” I almost took a credit card out to buy him one similar to it, but it was a hundred dollars cheaper than this model. I turn it over and on the back it’s inscribed. “Tater? You’re Tater?” I smile at him.
“Hand that to me,” he holds out his hand and I give it back. “Grandma, you’re a silly woman, I haven’t been called that in years.”
“I know, but when I think of you running around the farm and the farm-hands would yell out, Tater, it seemed appropriate. You ran around like a crazed child sometimes, and that’s when we would say, later Tater.”
Tate reaches over and pats her hand. “Thank you grandma, I love it.”
You know you’re a country boy if they call you Tater.
***
The club is packed when we arrived. Thankfully a table with a reserved sign was up front. I’m sitting with Florence until the second set, then I’ll get up and sing.
“Excuse me, I need to tell the DJ something.” I reach in my purse and grab the jump drive with the track on it.
I glance around the room for the girls who were such bitches when we were here last time. The DJ smiled and took the track from me without freaking out. We work out a hand signal and decide it will be the third song. If I had my way, it would be the last song, but he convinced me to make it the third one.
Florence is sipping on a glass of wine and there’s one at my seat.
“I hope you like white wine, they had a horrible selection in their reds.”
Tate must not have told her I’m underage, at the moment, I’m not telling on myself. My fake ID is in my purse in case I get carded. It might take more than one drink before I get up and sing in front of everyone.
The same guy came out and told some jokes and announced the drink specials with a friendly reminder to tip the wait staff.
Tate starts out with a Lenny Kravitz song and the crowd goes wild. He sings a few more songs before taking his fifteen minute break. I take my second glass of wine with me to the green room.
“There you are. Are we going sing tonight? I can make it our first song, or our last song, your choice.” He eyes my glass and smiles at me. “Liquid courage?”
“Yeah, just a little. Your grandma ordered it before I told her I’m underage. As for singing, I want to do it as the last song.”
“She knows how old you are, she’s against the drinking age. She figures if you’re old enough to go to work every day and pay taxes, you’re old enough to drink. My mom didn’t agree with that rule. I know, because I came home loaded a few times. Young and dumb is what she would call me.”
“Sounds like you were.”
We sit down on the oversized couch and run through Bad Romance.
“Tate, you’re on in three minutes,” says a voice overhead.
I stand up and shake out my hands and jump up and down.
“Are we boxing?” Tate asks as he mirrors my movements in front of me.
“No, I’m trying to get the wine to hit me, so I’m shaking out my nerves.”
He’s funny jumping in front of me with his guitar strapped to his back. “Is it working?”
“I’m still upright. I guess not.”
“Here, I’ll say a quick prayer. Hold my hand. Dear Boss, please bless us as we get up and sing together for the first time. Take Holland’s nerves away and please don’t allow anyone to throw anything at us… Amen.”
“Amen. You call him Boss?”
“Yeah, I’m unsure about religion and who is our leader.”
“ONE MINUTE!” The voice announces.
“Ready?” Tate says and takes my hand.
“Sure,” I whisper.
***
Once he finishes the second song, I stand up. My face is warm from the wine and my hands are trembling. “Sit down,” I whisper to him. He obeys and flashes me his panty dropping grin. “Hi everyone, tonight is Tate’s birthday. As a surprise, I’ve decided to sing him a song.” Tate’s eyes are following my every movement, like a cat watching a mouse. “Happy Birthday Tate.” I gesture to the DJ and the track begins.
Strumming my pain with his fingers.
Singing my life with his words,
Killing me softly with his song….
I stand in front of him and zone out the rest of the club, focusing on nothing but his electric blue eyes. As I finish the song, he takes the mic from me.
“Excuse me everyone, but I need to thank my beautiful girlfriend. Don’t mind my P D A.” He grabs me around the waist and kisses me for three seconds and my heart quivered thirteen times. The crowd applauds and a few people whistle as he picks me up and sets me on the stool. “I’m going to thank you better than that when we’re alone,” he whispers.
Yes! Please do! M
y inner voice shouted as she clapped her hands.
I glance into the audience to see what Florence is doing. She isn’t happy. If I had to guess what’s wrong, it’s me. She didn’t expect our relationship to be real, and we just displayed how real we are.
I watched his back as he starts singing his next song. The crowd is paying attention to him intently. Earlier I overheard someone talk about the owner having some of his bigwig friends in town.
“You got to hear my beautiful girlfriend sing already, but the two of us have been working on a song together. Please welcome the lovely Holland,” Tate says and takes my hand. I hop off the barstool and walk with him to the microphone stand. One of the workers handed him another microphone and he in turn hands it to me. “Ready?” I nod in reply.
He holds the guitar high and turns to face me. I close my eyes and imagine we’re doing karaoke in a dive bar. Destiny’s Child isn’t a household name anymore, but we’re hoping to have everyone singing, Say My Name. Throughout the song, I peer up at him and he encourages me to keep going. I don’t know if anyone was paying any attention to us, I’m not going to jinx myself and look into the crowd. As we stop, Tate takes my hand and we take a bow together. The crowd is applauding and a few people are standing up for us. You would have thought a huge star was up singing. I glance over and catch Florence applauding with everyone.
We step off the stage and people have crowded around the steps. I hold onto his hand and he makes a tunnel for us to get through everyone. People are touching us and saying we should make an album. Obviously, everyone’s deaf. He’s gripping my hand harder as he tries to guide us to the table. Florence is standing and pulling out a chair for Tate to sit next to her.
“You were amazing Tate, I knew you’ve been practicing, but you didn’t tell me about your popularity. Holland, your voice is beautiful. How long have you been singing?”
“Thank you, I’ve been singing in the shower for years,” I say nervously. “Tonight is my first time to sing without the words on a screen doing karaoke.”
“Holl, you were spot-on. I can’t wait to hear what the manager thought of our gig,” Tate says and gives my knee a squeeze. I hope his grandma didn’t see it or she’ll have one more thing not to like me about.
A couple of the club’s bouncers come over and ask people to step away from the table. Soon, two more bouncers are clearing a path for the owner. He’s dressed in jeans and a black blazer over a white shirt unbuttoned one button too many. I get a whiff of cigars when he leans over Tate to talk.
“Excellent job Tate. I’d like to talk to you in the office. Ladies, we’ll only be a few minutes.”
Tate stands up and kisses me on the top of my head and says he’ll be right back. Now I get to sit alone with Florence.
The comedian comes back to the stage and starts telling a new set of material. Everyone is laughing, even Florence. I’m so intently paying attention that I yelp when someone touches my shoulder. One of the bouncers nods for me to follow him.
“Hey slow down, where are we going?” I call out to the bouncer. He doesn’t answer me and like a kid I follow him up a set of stairs and into a office. Tate is sitting with the owner and two other men and a woman, all of them are dressed in suits.
The bouncer grabs one of the leather chairs and drags it over next to Tate. As I sit down the spring under the cushion creaks. If anyone thinks I just farted, I’m going to die right now. Tate scoots his chair over as close as he can to me and reaches for my hand. Still not sure what’s going on, I turn to the owner. “Is anyone going to speak? You didn’t call me in here to kick me out for singing, are you?” The thought just occurred to me.
“No Holland, we wanted you to come in and talk with us. My name is Pat McDown, I’m the owner of Creation Enterprises and I represent musicians such as Ingrid Bowman, Scott Jacobson, Terry Bishop, and the female country sensation, Country Fried Kisses. I’ve just been talking to Tate and he tells me that this was your first time to sing publicly. With some practice and experience, you two are going to be a force in the business. When we were called out here, we thought we’d only meet Tate, but honey, you sweetened the deal.”
I look around the room, no one appears to be joking. Tate is looking at me confused too, so we sit and listen.
“Deal? What deal?” I ask.
Pat smiles at me, I don’t smile back. “I’d like to represent you and Tate. Before you say anything, hear me out. Part of my company has a contract with clubs such as this. This is my Midwestern region, Oklahoma, Texas, Arkansas, Kansas, and Missouri. To start you out, I need you to get some experience. I will book you at clubs that are a day trip, meaning you go and come back the same day. Although my Dallas area would be two nights in a row. Tate explained to me that he’s in the military and you have family obligations. I understand that, so I would like to get you started with clubs in Oklahoma. You need to learn more songs, but that rendition of Destiny’s Child, that was a damn hit! The pay isn’t great, but it will increase once you start traveling. Each gig in Oklahoma will be five hundred dollars each. You’ll be given four courtesy tickets to give out to a fan or family, we don’t care. When No Doubt started out, they did this same thing and they ended up with a huge California following. I want that to happen for the two of you. I’d like to schedule you some studio time to get you a track for the radio to play. You won’t earn anything from that track, it will be what pays the bills for you. I will email you a contract for you to look over and you can return it to me any time this week. Get yourself an entertainment attorney to go over the details. This is the real deal guys. Happy birthday Tate.”
I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath and squeezing Tate’s hand. “Holland, relax.”
“Do you have any questions?” The lady who wasn’t introduced to me asks. Her pencil skirt is perfectly straight, not as much as a wrinkle from sitting in a car. She’s dressed older, but her face is porcelain white without a single flaw.
“I only sang two songs in front of you. Tate is the talent, I’m just a girl who was only half serious about singing. I think you’re making a mistake.”
Everyone but Tate and I laugh. “Your two songs were ready to be recorded. Don’t underestimate your talent.”
“Email it to me, I will have to check with my commander and attorney. Holland and I will be back to you as soon as we can. Thank you for the opportunity,” Tate stands and I follow.
My head is swimming as we walk out of the office.
“Was that real?” I ask.
“I’ve heard of him before and he’s signed all of those stars with big labels. Even not signing with a label, that’s good money for these small gigs. I’ve been doing them for a hundred bucks. Listen, I don’t want to discuss the contract with my grandma around. She’s so determined that I run the farm and it will piss her off,” Tate says.
The bouncers walk with us back to the table where Florence is sipping on a glass of wine and laughing with the crowd.
Tate and I sit down and he leans over and whispers something to Florence. She’s pleased with whatever he says. He looks over at me and winks. My head spins with the thought of being paid to sing. Life just got more complicated.
***
Chapter Ten. Temper
I CAN MEET YOU AT THE ATTORNEY’S OFFICE AT FOUR. 10:02 am
OKAY. I WAS ABLE TO TRADE SHIFTS AT WORK. DID YOUR GRANDMA GET TO THE AIRPORT OKAY? 10:15 am
SHE DID. IS YOUR HAIR DOWN RIGHT NOW? 10:16 am
THAT’S A STRANGE QUESTION. YES IT IS. 10:16 am
WEAR IT THAT WAY TODAY. WE’LL GET SOME DINNER AND GO TO THE LAKE IF YOU CAN GET AWAY FOR THAT LONG. 10:18 am
OKAY. HOW DOES MY HAIR PLAY INTO THIS? DAD IS BEING RELEASED TOMORROW. 10:18 am
I MISS YOU. IT LOOKS SEXY THAT WAY. TWO DAYS NOT SEEING YOU HAS BEEN THE WORST DAYS EVER. 10:19 am
EVER? TATER, I MISS YOU TOO. LOL 10:21 am
I sit and laugh as I wait for his response.
YOU’RE EVIL. I LIKE EVIL. GOT
TA GO, PLANE IS COMING IN. 10:22 am
LATER TATER! XOXO 10:22 am
I’ve cleaned the house and scrubbed the bathroom down. One day, I want a house with at least two bathrooms. There are times Dad sits on the toilet forever and I end up needing a gasmask if I have to go to the bathroom after him. It would be nice to have my own private area.
Tate forwarded me the contract so I can check it out. I expected it to be filled with tons of legal jargon that would be confusing. Everything is straight forward, nothing sounds unreasonable. Although, every time I think about singing in front of people for money, my stomach gets upset. Between my college fund and the money I’d make from a gig, I could cut back on my hours at the store. Dad will be excited about me singing, but he would freak out if he finds out they’re selling us as a couple.
Twenty minutes later.
I’ve been sitting on the edge of my porcelain tub and shaving my legs. After every stroke, I run my hand along the line to make sure I didn’t miss any stubble. When I first started to shave my legs, I didn’t have anyone show me the right and wrong way to work a razor. It didn’t take long to figure out the ankle and knee area tend to get nicked and bleed. One time, I barely cut my ankle and it looked like I’d been stabbed! There was blood running down the drain and the water felt like alcohol it burned so bad. I wonder at what point a woman said, to hell with my hairy legs, find me something to mow this shit.
I grab the raggedy towel I’ve had since the beginning of my existence and dry off my legs. The last time Andy came to the house, she saw the towel and swore she was buying me a set of towels for my birthday. If we sign the contract, I’m going to buy a set of towels with my first check. They’ll be lime green, Andy’s favorite color.
There’s a lot of maintenance that goes into impressing a guy. Shaving my legs, painting my toes, curling my hair, eyeliner, lotion, and the list goes on forever. What does a guy do? Shower, deodorant, and a splash of cologne. Some guys bathe in the cologne, Tate doesn’t.
My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter as I’m smearing lotion on my legs.
