Our time is winding down fast.
Tonight, we’re breaking out of our regular routine for a rare night out.
“I’ve been excited about this concert all week,” Luke says. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been a regular spectator at a country music concert instead of an act. I can’t believe how many people are here for this thing.” He waves a hand at the sea of cars in front of us trying to find a place to park at the Lee County Fairgrounds. “Look at all these cars piling in here.”
We drive past the long line of vehicles parked in a dusty field at the fairgrounds until we find an empty spot. It was Luke’s idea to attend the concert being held tonight on the small outdoor stage.
“We don’t get a lot in the way of entertainment here in Sweet Rose Canyon,” I remind him. “If there’s something worth seeing, everyone turns out for it.”
“That’s good,” Luke says. “I’m glad the town is supportive of music acts who are struggling to make it. I started on a small stage too. Well, I should take that back. It couldn’t be called a stage. It was nothing more than a microphone in a corner. The point is, I’m glad we’re here.”
“Me too,” I reply. I’m glad to see Luke is looking forward to the evening. We’d made a silent pact not to bring up his inevitable return to Nashville. Instead we’re doing what we agreed upon that night in the house kitchen. We’re enjoying the summer and our precious time together. What little we have left. We both know there’s no point in ruining it by rehashing the same issues over and over again.
“Do you think I can get away with not being recognized?” He checks out his reflection in the rearview mirror while sliding on a pair of dark sunglasses.
“I don’t know,” I say doubtfully. “You’re not the type to fade into the crowd. You’re just too handsome and cute not to be noticed. I could spot you in a crowd anywhere. You look just like Luke Collins with sunglasses.”
“Oh well,” he says. “That sucks. We need to do something because I’m not in the mood to be standing around signing autographs all night or taking selfies with fans. Got any ideas?”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “Now you’re asking me? While we’re sitting in the truck with the concert about to start? If you wanted a disguise, we should’ve thought about this earlier.”
He’s wearing his normal outfit of blue jeans, white t-shirt, worn cowboy boots, and his famous cowboy hat. There’s no way he won’t be recognized. “There’s an old baseball cap in the truck somewhere,” he says. “I had it on the other day when I was helping Matthew with the cows.” He reaches under the seat and pulls out a dirty green and white baseball cap with a local tractor company logo on it. “Which should I wear?” he asks, holding it out for me to see. “Baseball or cowboy hat?”
“If you’re trying to blend in, go with the baseball cap,” I say. “The cowboy hat is too recognizable on you.” I lean over and mess up his hair with my fingers. “Now put it on.”
He slips the baseball cap on backwards and pulls it down low. His hair is sticking out wildly from both sides.
“Much better,” I say. “Now you’ll blend in with the local country boys.”
“What about you?” he asks.
“Nobody cares about me,” I say. “I’m never noticed in a crowd. I blend easily. Besides, most people expect to see me in my pharmacist lab coat, not the Daisy Duke way I’m dressed tonight.”
For old times’ sake, Luke had convinced me to wear a pair of denim shorts and a red-and-white checked tank top tied at the waist. My long hair is loose, the way Luke prefers it. I’d searched through my closet until I found my old pair of cowboy boots to go with the outfit. They’re not the most comfortable things in the world, but at least they match.
Luke reaches over and places his cowboy hat on my head. It’s too big and comes down low on my forehead. “You need a hat to make your outfit legit,” he says with a chuckle. “Now you’re just right. Let’s go find a good seat before they’re all taken.”
He lifts me out of the truck and takes my hand. We stroll into the packed outdoor concert area and make our way through the crowd.
“So far, so good,” he says in relief when we find two empty seats. “I haven’t been recognized yet. I can’t remember the last time I was able to sit down and enjoy a show. I’m excited.”
“You don’t watch the acts when you’re performing with other bands?” I ask. “Why not?”
“There’s no time to sit and enjoy the music,” he says regretfully. “I wish I could. Before my performance, I’m always doing sound checks or worrying if my earpiece will work correctly. Afterwards, I’m always stressed out and going back over everything I screwed up in my mind.”
“You need to have some fun too in your life,” I say, snuggling under his arm. “I’m glad you suggested doing this tonight.”
“It’s a good change to be on the other side. To be reminded how it feels to be a fan. Sometimes it’s easy for me to forget why my fans are there or what they want to see and hear. My manager has control over the lineup of songs in my concerts. I’m always afraid of losing touch of what people want.”
“Your fans want you to sing from your heart,” I say. “As long as you keep doing that, they’ll always be there. Give them what they want.”
“That’s easier said than done,” he says. “The record label wants me to sing what sells, not necessarily what I want to record. If they had it their way, they’d probably turn me into a pop singer.”
We both make faces at the awful thought.
The seats around us quickly fill to capacity. It’s a hot night, with only a small breeze to keep the temperature bearable. The crowd doesn’t seem to care. Everyone is smiling and carefree, happy to be here. When the band runs out on stage, the crowd stands and breaks into loud applause. I’ve been to enough concerts to know we won’t be sitting down for the rest of the night. By the time the evening is over, I’ll probably be regretting my high-heeled cowboy boots.
Before the applause dies down, the lead singer immediately goes into the first of the band’s many top ten country music hits. He wows the crowd by singing one popular song after the other without taking a break in between. The crowd sings along every word with him, including me and Luke.
“Isn’t this great!” Luke leans over to yell in my ear. “Having the crowd sing back to you is the best feeling in the world. Look at that guy’s face up there. He’s in heaven.”
I love seeing Luke so happy and relaxed. Ever since he’s been back in town, he’s had the weight of the world dropped on his shoulders. He’s in his element here with the fans and the sound of country music filling the hot Texas night.
To the crowd’s disappointment and after two amazing encores, the show comes to an end well after midnight. The spectators wait in their seats for a few minutes to be certain the show is over before giving up and heading for the exits.
“Wasn’t that fantastic?” Luke says, grabbing my hand and squeezing. “I don’t want to go home. Maybe they’ll come back for one more encore?”
“Now you know exactly how your fans feel when the show is over,” I tell him. “They would gladly stay and listen to you sing all night.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way. See, this is why I need to get out more and do these kind of events. It gives me a different perspective.” He pulls me closer against his side as the crowd surges around us. “Hold on tight to me and don’t turn loose. It would be easy to get separated in this group.” He begins to lead me through the crushing sea of wall-to-wall people moving toward the exit.
“The concert was great,” I say. “I imagine your performances are ten times better. I can’t believe I’ve never seen you in concert. Your fans must be so sad when the show is over.”
“I don’t know about that,” he says. “I know I’m always disappointed when the show is over. I would stand up there on stage and sing the whole night for free if they’d let me.” He drapes a muscular arm around my shoulders. “I love this business. The sou
nds, the lights and yes, even the smells of a concert on a hot summer night under the open sky.”
“You love the smell of sweat and stale beer?”
“Is that what I’m smelling? Now you’ve gone and ruined my beautiful fantasy.”
We almost make it outside the gates before we’re spotted. From behind us, someone calls out Luke’s name. “Luke! Hey! Luke Collins!” Curious heads start turning around trying to spot Luke. He grips my shoulders tighter and pulls me close to protect me. It’s dark and we’ve both removed our sunglasses so we can see where we’re walking. He’s easy to recognize without them.
“Keep your head down,” he warns me.
“Luke! Wait up!”
One of the band members waves to us from the other side of the crowd. He tries to squeeze his way through the crush of people toward us.
“That’s Johnny Blue,” Luke stops walking and says. “He was one of my favorite musicians back in the day. Come on. Let’s go over. I’d like to speak to him.”
We turn and try to push our way back through the crowd moving in the opposite direction. When we reach him, he thrusts out his hand to Luke. “I’m Johnny Blue,” he says to Luke, holding out his hand. “The band’s guitarist.”
“I know who you are,” Luke says, giving him a firm handshake. “I’ve always been a fan. It’s an honor to meet you. That was a great show you put on tonight. I didn’t want it to end.”
Johnny stares at Luke, almost starstruck. “I can’t believe you’re here to watch us play. The stage manager spotted you in the crowd. I’m glad he didn’t tell us until it was over.”
“Are you kidding?” Luke asks. “You guys were huge before I even cut my first song. I’m the one who’s honored. I would never have believed a few years back that anyone from Bama Boys would ever know my name. I bought everything you released.”
“The other guys would love to meet you if you have time,” Johnny Blue says. “They were hoping you’d join us for the after party.” He leans closer to Luke and drops his voice. “We call it an after party, but it’s only cheap takeout pizza and ginger ale. Our party days were over a decade ago.”
Luke glances over at me and lifts his eyebrows. “What do you say, Ginny? Is that okay with you?”
“Sure,” I say, giving Johnny Blue a quick smile. “I don’t have to work early in the morning.”
We follow Johnny backstage to a room where the band members are gathered around three large pepperoni pizzas. “Guess who I found in the crowd?” Johnny says, waving us into the room in front of him. “Luke Collins. Can you believe it?”
The lead singer walks over to shake Luke’s hand, followed by the other band members. They’re all at least in their mid to late thirties or early forties. The lead singer, Bill, is tall, with dark hair and a thick mustache. Johnny Blue is younger and has a tattoo of a flag on his bicep. Zack appears to be the oldest; he’s wearing a worn tan cowboy hat and a gold chain with a cross around his neck.
All three members of the band welcome us warmly and invite us to sit with them among the worn furniture. After serving us pizza on paper plates and uncapping a couple of soft drinks, the conversation quickly turns to country music.
“I still can’t believe you’re at our show,” Bill says, shaking his head slowly. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on a national tour these days.”
“My dad is sick,” Luke explains. “I was needed back at home for a while to help out.”
“Wow, I hate that for you,” Bill says in a sympathetic voice. “I bet your manager was thrilled about you taking time off right in the middle of a concert tour.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Luke says.
“Your manager is Harry Nix, right?”
“Yep, the one and only.”
Bill takes a long swig of his cola before speaking. “I’ve done a little business with him over the years,” he says. “He was the promoter for a couple of concerts where we were playing. I can’t say I cared much for the man. No offense to you, of course.”
Luke holds up his hands and laughs lightly. “No offense taken. I know Harry. There’s nothing anyone can tell me about him that I don’t already know.”
“The man seemed a little too cutthroat for my taste,” Bill says. “I was afraid to turn my back on him in a dark room. He was always trying to work a better deal for himself and cut into our earnings. He’s a shark.”
“That’s a fairly good assessment,” Luke says. “He’s ruthless when it comes to cutting a deal. I guess that can be good or bad depending on what side you’re on. He takes care of me, so I can’t complain too much. I wouldn’t be where I am now without him. I would hate for him to have it in for me though. Being on the dark side of Harry would be a nightmare.”
I frown at the turn of conversation. I never realized Luke’s manager had that kind of reputation in the country music world. It makes me wonder what else I don’t know about Luke’s life in Nashville.
Johnny Blue turns toward Luke. “Harry’s brought you a long way, though. You’ve got to give him credit for that. A national tour at this stage in your career? That’s something to be proud of.”
“I remember our first United States tour,” Zack says with a sad smile. “A different city every night, five-star VIP treatment everywhere we went, and the endless fans! Those were the good old days.”
“It was something back then when we were topping the charts,” Bill agrees. “It’s been a long time since we’ve experienced true fame. As you can see, now we’re lucky if we’re able to book shows at county fairgrounds or annual peanut festivals.”
“What do you mean?” Luke says, frowning. “You guys are legends. Everyone knows the Bama Boys.”
“Not anymore,” Bill says, shaking his head. “For example, seven years ago on New Year’s Eve, we played a sold-out show in a stadium in Denver. This year we’re booked at a country western bar somewhere in lower Mississippi that I’ve never heard of. Let me tell you, it’s a hard hit to your pride when your time in the spotlight is up. The reality is bills need to be paid and we didn’t put aside enough of our earnings. We thought the good times would never end. That’s what happens when the money is flowing. It ends in an instant.” He snaps his fingers for emphasis.
“You guys should be able to play anywhere you want,” Luke says. “And name your price too.”
“Unfortunately, no. That’s not the way this business works.” Bill shakes his head. “When you hit the top and start down the other side, the fame goes away fast. Going up the hill takes forever, coming down talks only a split-second. Nothing lasts forever. Let us be a lesson to you.”
“I miss the wild days,” Mike says. “Life on the road was worth it for the parties alone.” He turns back towards Luke with a wistful smile. “You know what we mean. You’re living the high life now. Ride success while you can. If you blink, it’ll all be gone in a heartbeat.”
Johnny Blue nudges him. “I don’t think Luke is quite ready to be hung out to dry. He’s not even thirty years old yet. He’s in the prime of his life.”
“And so were we at one time,” Mike reminds him with a faraway expression in his eyes.
An uncomfortable silence fills the room. The men reach for another slice of pizza without speaking. Luke wipes off his hands with a napkin and stands. He reaches a hand down to me and pulls me to my feet beside him. “I hate to eat and run, fellas,” Luke says. “This pretty lady needs her beauty sleep. Thank you for the pizza. Along with the very good advice. I’ll be sure to take it. I’ve enjoyed meeting you all.” He reaches over to shake each of their hands again. “If you’re ever in Nashville, give me a call,” he tells them. “I would love to have you out at the house. We could pick a few tunes together. I mean it. Come by, anytime.”
The men automatically nod at us. Something tells me they’ll never call or drop by Luke’s place.
“Sounds good!” Bill says. “We’ll do that if we’re ever in town.”
We let ourselves out and walk down the short
hallway that leads to the exit door. I wait until we’re out of earshot of the band before speaking. “You were in a big hurry to get out of there,” I say. “What’s up?”
“The mood was turning dark and uncomfortable in a hurry,” Luke says. “I didn’t know the band was having rough times. I always thought of them as superstars. I guess I haven’t given much thought to what happens once the music stops selling.”
I stop walking and glance up at his face. “Are you worried that the same thing will happen to you one day?”
“You mean being forced to play in smoky bars again to make a living? Of course, the same thing could happen to me! The reality is, it probably will happen. It happens to everyone eventually unless you’re a lifetime superstar. The thought scares me.”
“Maybe they were overexaggerating,” I say. “You saw all the fans there tonight to support them. The place was packed.”
“Fans are a fickle bunch. And I wonder how many people buy their current music. I bet not many. They’re all fans of the older songs the band recorded years ago. A few hit songs can’t keep a music career going forever. You have to keep feeding the beast in this business or you’ll die a painful death.”
We slowly make our way back to the truck, being careful not to trip on any of the deep holes in the dirt path along the way.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t let it worry me,” I say. “Just be careful with the money you’re making now. Those guys kept talking about the wild life they had on the road. Maybe they weren’t responsible with their finances and now they’re having to make up for it. If you spend every dime you make on whiskey and fast women, then what can you expect? By the way, I need to ask you a question. Is life on the road really that wild and crazy?”
Luke grins and tightens his grip on me. “Why? Are you worried about me?”
I elbow him hard in the ribs and he yelps. “Maybe. Is it that way for real? Should I be worried?”
“For some bands, it is,” he says. “When I first started, there was a party every night. I thought it was fun for a while. The glitter wore off quickly for me when I realized none of it was real or had meaning. Before long, every party felt the same. I couldn’t tell you who was at most of them or anything that happened. They all ran together into one big, hazy blur.” We reach the truck. He quickly unlocks it and helps me step inside.
Every Good Cowboy Deserves A Second Chance Page 21
