Every Good Cowboy Deserves A Second Chance

by Maggie Miller

  “Sure,” I say, nodding eagerly. I can’t wait to see Luke again. “I’d love to watch if it won’t disturb him.”

  We reach a secure area, and she holds up a hand for me to stop walking. After speaking to the security guard standing by the stage and showing the name tag hanging around her neck, she turns to point at me. The uniformed security guard glances at me then runs a finger down a list on a clipboard. Once we’re clear, he nods and waves us on by.

  Janet pulls back the edge of a heavy curtain and beckons for me to step closer until we’re both standing at the rear corner of the stage. She smiles at me in encouragement and moves a couple of steps back so I can move forward for a better view.

  Luke’s back is to me, and he doesn’t know I’m here. He’s sitting on a stool in front of the microphone with his guitar slung over one shoulder. He’s softly playing the chords of a new song I don’t recognize. As usual, he’s dressed in one of his worn t-shirts and jeans along with his favorite pair of cowboy boots.

  He turns toward his backup singer and spots me. Immediately, his face breaks out into a wide grin. He jumps off the stool and strides toward me.

  “Luke!” His guitarist calls out to Luke’s back. “Where are you going? We’re halfway through the song.”

  “To see my girl,” Luke answers over his shoulder.

  When he reaches me, he slings his guitar off and hands it to Janet to hold. Wrapping his muscular arms around me, he picks me up off my feet and squeezes me tight in a big bear hug. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he says, swinging me around. “I’m so glad to see you.” He buries his face in my neck. “You smell like sunshine and those yellow roses you love so much.”

  “Put me down, Luke,” I say, laughing up at him. “You’re making me dizzy swinging me around.”

  He reluctantly sets me back down on my feet, but doesn’t let me go. Instead he stares deep into my eyes, not caring who is watching. “I missed you,” he says. “It feels like forever since we were together.”

  Gazing up into his handsome face, I don’t know how I managed to make it this long without him. I cup his face with my hands on both sides. “Too long,” I say.

  “I can’t wait to introduce you to my band. Come on over. They’re dying to meet you.”

  He takes my hand and leads me first over to his guitarist, who grins up at me. “This is Maverick,” Luke says. “He’s my right-hand guy and the crazy one in the bunch.”

  Maverick stands up to politely shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Ginny,” he says. “I’ve heard a lot about you. In fact, Luke never stops talking about you. I mean, never, ever.”

  “All good, I hope,” I say, praying he hasn’t heard all the bad rumors about me that were spread in the magazines.

  “Nothing but good,” he replies. “From what I hear, the sun rises and sets on you.”

  Luke leads me to the drummer next and then on to the backup singers, taking time to introduce me by name to each one. He’s careful to treat his crew with respect. Their reciprocal love and respect for him is evident too. They greet me warmly with big smiles all around. After I’ve met everyone sitting on the stage, Luke gives them a fifteen-minute break. When we’re completely alone, he leads me over to the stool in front of the microphone. Sitting down, he tugs me onto his lap.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck and feeling a bit silly.

  He motions to the massive auditorium of empty seats in front of us. There are two levels. I can barely see the nosebleed seats in the rear on the upper deck. “Take a good look,” he says. “In another couple of hours, every one of these seats will be filled with country music fans raring to have a loud, rowdy good time.”

  “This place is huge,” I say, taking in both decks. “Do you ever get nervous when you see all this space? I’m overwhelmed just thinking about it.”

  “Not anymore. The first few times, it was a little tough. I was scared to death that my voice would shake, or I’d sing out of tune. Or that my voice would be so weak that the people sitting way up there in the top section wouldn’t be able to hear me. These days performing comes to me as naturally as breathing once I step up on this stage. I’m comfortable here. This is my world.”

  “You love music,” I say simply, running my hand up and down his muscular arm. Now that I’m here, I can’t stop touching him.

  “Music isn’t all I love. I love you too,” he replies in a serious voice, drawing me closer and kissing me softly on the lips.

  I draw back slightly and run my fingers through the hair grazing the edge of his collar. He’s let it grow longer since I last saw him. “Luke, there’s something I want to say to you before tonight,” I begin. “I need to tell you something.”

  He touches my lips with his fingertips to hush me. “I know you want to talk, and we should. Can we wait until after the show? For once in my life, I want to perform in front of the girl who has been my inspiration for as long as I can remember. Will you let me do that? I’m asking you to give me this one thing. Talking can wait.”

  I draw back slightly and gaze into his serious eyes. If he’s asking, it must be important to him. “Of course I will. I’ve waited my whole life to see you up on a stage this big. There’s nothing I would enjoy more.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “Where will I be sitting during the concert?” I ask. “Backstage?”

  “No way! You’ll be right up front, sweetheart,” he says, pointing out a roped-off section in front of the stage. “Where I can sing every song straight to you.”

  38

  Luke

  I wasn’t being honest when I told Ginny I never get butterflies in my stomach when I’m up on stage. Tonight, I’m a nervous wreck. All because my Ginny will be in the crowd. More than anything else, I want her to be proud of me. It doesn’t matter what the fans think or what the newspapers write. I’m only seeking one person’s approval tonight.

  My show this evening will be the most important performance of my life.

  Not because I’ll be doing something spectacular like singing at the Country Music Awards or doing the half-time show at the Super Bowl. My concert tonight isn’t about checking off an item on my music career bucket list. What I’ll be doing will be much more meaningful and important. I’ll be singing my heart out to Ginny.

  I’m praying that she’ll hear all the things I want to say through the lyrics of my songs. Lately I’ve sensed our future is hanging by a thread, and it’s up to me to turn things around fast. If I can’t, we’re doomed forever. And it will be nobody’s fault but my own.

  “Would you stop pacing back and forth like a caged tiger?” Maverick says in irritation, glancing up from his guitar. “I’m trying to focus here. To get into my Zen groove before the show. Your hyperactivity is getting on my last nerve. Please, for everyone’s sake, take a deep breath and go do some yoga or something.”

  I abruptly stop walking and sit down beside him on the edge of the worn sofa in the backstage dressing room. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m just anxious to get out there on stage. This is the first time Ginny will see me in concert, and you know how keyed up I can be before a show. I’m restless and raring to go.”

  Maverick raises his eyebrows at me. “Yeah, I know how you are before a concert. Right now, you’re all that times ten. Are you on speed or something?” He points to my leg. “What’s up with your leg bouncing up and down like a hyperactive jackrabbit? I’ve never seen you in this shape.” He lays a hand on my leg to stop the shaking. “Calm down and stop worrying. I promise you, Ginny will love the show. You’re getting worked up for nothing.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I say, jumping to my feet again, unable to sit still.

  “For goodness sake, Luke!” Maverick says in exasperation. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m leaving to hunt down a quiet corner somewhere. You’re driving me nuts. We’ve got a full crowd out there, so you need to bring your A-game out on stage. Snap out of it!” He grasps my should
er in encouragement as he moves past me toward the door. “She loves you, man. Everything will be fine.”

  “I sure hope you’re right,” I reply, wishing I could be as confident as he is.

  39

  Luke

  “Gather around, folks! Hurry up!” I yell to the crew and motion with my hands for everyone to form a circle. They’re all standing around backstage waiting for my signal. “It’s time to say our prayer and hit the stage.”

  The crew members move closer and huddle up around me. We join hands and bow our heads before I lead them in a quick prayer. We’ve been doing this before every performance since my first time on stage. Once at the beginning of my career, Harry had the unbelievable gall to tell me the prayer might be inappropriate or make some people uncomfortable. I politely told him where he could stick that opinion, and that was the last time he mentioned it.

  It’s a crazy world out there. If someone doesn’t like me praying to God for my band’s safety, then they can always leave and go find another job. “Amen!” we all say together when I’m finished praying. My assistant, Janet, hands me my guitar and I sling it over one shoulder.

  “Is Ginny here?” I ask. “Is she happy and doing okay?”

  Janet gives me a reassuring smile. “She’s sitting front row, just like you wanted. I took her back to the hotel room to freshen up and change clothes then brought her back about an hour ago. We have two of your security guys with her for crowd control in case someone decides to body surf their way onto the stage. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. Good luck tonight!”

  “Thank you, I’ll need it.”

  Taking one last deep breath, I run out on stage. The crowd of ninety thousand fans jump to their feet, clapping wildly and cheering. It takes me a moment for my eyes to adjust to the blinding, bright lights shining straight down on me. When my vision clears, I see the glow coming from tens of thousands of cellphones pointed straight at me like paper lanterns floating in a night sky. My eyes go straight to the front row and I search for Ginny. And there she is. The same as in my dreams.

  She’s standing directly in front of my microphone in the center of the front row. Like most of the other women in the crowd, she’s decked out for the country music concert in cut-off blue jean shorts, a black frilly blouse, and leather cowboy boots that come up mid-calf. The sight of her causes me to catch my breath. I can’t believe she’s here in the audience for the very first time. I can’t tear my eyes from her.

  She’s every bit as gorgeous as she was back in high school. Her skin is glowing from the golden tan of the Texas sun and her long blonde hair is shining and free. On her wrist is a simple leather bracelet I gave her this summer before I went back to Nashville. She’s excited and is already on her feet.

  I walk over to the microphone and settle down on the simple wooden stool placed behind it. A hush settles over the crowd while they wait for me to begin the first song. My eyes meet Ginny’s. She smiles up at me, and for a brief moment the world stops spinning around us. I no longer hear the musicians playing behind me or the roar of the crowd. I block out the sound of my stage manager whispering into my earpiece. Everything shuts out. Right now, it’s just me and Ginny.

  The way it was always and forever meant to be.

  My mind rushes back in time to the first day we met when I slid into a desk across from her in fifth grade. She’d given me a shy smile and from then on, I was completely lost in her blue eyes. I grin at her and wink. Suddenly I know in my heart that everything is going to be okay. A huge burden lifts from my chest and I feel lighter than I have in years. My girl is here, and I’m going to give this crowd the best show they’ve ever seen. Six months from now, they’ll still be talking about it.

  I lean into the microphone and begin to sing the opening line of my first hit song with my eyes never leaving Ginny’s. It’s one of many songs I’ve written about her over the years, most of which are still sitting patiently in my head, waiting to be recorded. I’ll never run out of songs to sing, not with Ginny in my life.

  The crowd goes wild when I reach the chorus, not realizing my muse and inspiration is the pretty blonde girl swaying to the music in the front row. When the song ends, I glance over to check on my band and catch Maverick’s eye. He gives me two thumbs’ up. We’re in our element and on the highest of highs. The concert is off to a roof-blowing start.

  We jump right into the next song and play one right after the other, barely taking time to catch our breath in between. I sing until my throat is raw and my t-shirt is drenched with sweat.

  I’ve always believed in giving the fans their money’s worth. They pay a fortune for the tickets, and I want to make sure they walk out the door believing it’s worth every penny of their hard-earned money. Three hours later, it’s time to start winding things down. The final and closing song is coming up next.

  Unlike many bands, we don’t do encores. Over time, we’ve learned the fans will never get enough anyway and if we keep running back on stage to do another song, we’ll be there all night. Instead, we play a solid satisfying set and call it a night. The fans don’t mind because they know the deal beforehand.

  A crew member is watching from backstage for my signal. I turn and motion to him. He hurries out with a matching wooden stool that he places close beside mine.

  The fans sense this is a little unusual, and they begin to quiet down. I reach for my water bottle beside me on the floor and take a couple of swallows before speaking. It wouldn’t do for my voice to give out on me now. Clearing my throat, I reach over to adjust the microphone. The arena has gone completely quiet while they wait for me to speak.

  “The next song coming up was written for a special person,” I say, while strumming softly on my guitar. “I call her the love of my life because she’s always been there for me. We met when we were little kids way back in elementary school. Over the years, she went from being a tough tomboy with pigtails who was my best friend to my childhood sweetheart. Then like many young couples, after high school was over, we were separated by the reality of life. She went off to college and I took off to Nashville to chase my dreams.”

  I glance over at Ginny, who is smiling through the tears streaming down her face. She hastily wipes them away with the back of her hands.

  “I never forgot her though. Ginny wasn’t the kind of gal a man could forget, no matter how hard I tried. One night, I was sitting in a rundown hotel room feeling broken and all alone. I grabbed a notepad out of the desk drawer and started writing down all the memories of her running through my head.”

  The crowd is listening closely to my story, and I continue.

  “See, like an idiot, I believed if I put down the words on paper, then maybe the memories of her would stop haunting me in my dreams. As you probably guessed, it didn’t work out that way. Those scribbled words became my first hit song, Blue Eyes of Heaven. Instead of forgetting her as I hoped, now I was singing about her every day. Forgetting her was impossible. This summer, our paths unexpectedly crossed again. By the grace of God, I was given a second chance. For that, I’ll always be grateful. The minute I saw her standing on my dad’s front porch in a yellow sundress, I knew our destiny was to be together again. The girl I’m talking about is here tonight, sitting in the front row.”

  I stand up and walk over to the edge of the stage and reach down my hand. “Ginny, come on up here and join me. I want to introduce you to my fans.”

  The cameraman zooms in on Ginny’s face, which flashes up on the huge screens on both sides of the stage. The crowd claps and cheers for her in encouragement.

  She gives me a trembling smile and takes my hand. I tug hard, and we both realize it’s not possible for me to pull her up five feet onto the stage without dragging her. “I should have done a better job of thinking this through,” I joke into the microphone.

  She laughs when the security guards step up to lift her onto the stage by her elbows. Taking her hand, I lead her to the second stool and motion for her to sit down while I se
ttle on the other. “What are you doing?” she whispers to me, her eyes wide.

  I don’t answer and smile at her instead. “Everyone out there, this is Ginny,” I say to the crowd, spreading my arm wide and motioning to them. “Ginny, these are my fans. Take a minute and say hello.”

  Ginny gives the crowd a tiny wave. The crowd breaks out into cheers and whistles again, eagerly accepting her into my life, just as I hoped they would.

  “To close out the show, I’m going to sing a new song that I wrote a few weeks ago,” I tell the crowd. “This is the first time I’ve sung it in public. I hope you like it.” I turn toward her. “Ginny, this song is for you. It’s called One More Chance. I made you a little music video to go along with it.”

  I pick a few chords on my guitar then begin to sing…

  When I close my eyes at night in a lonely hotel room, I can still see her.

  Her bare feet up on the dashboard of my truck.

  Laughing at my jokes.

  Way back then we thought our summers would be endless.

  That our life would be spent counting stars.

  As I sing, the massive video screens alongside the stage flicker to life. The first image that fills the screens is a shaky clip taken from an old movie film of Ginny and me when we were little kids. We’re riding together bareback on my horse in a field behind the house. We couldn’t be more than ten at the time. Her arms are wrapped tightly around my waist and she’s leaning against my back, holding on for dear life. We’re both laughing hysterically as the horse gallops full speed into the yard then suddenly stops to nibble at a patch of grass, causing us both to almost be thrown off the side. Dad zooms the video camera in on our faces, so innocent and carefree.

  Happy and full of life.

  I jump off the horse and carefully help Ginny down. She grins at me and the love we feel for each other shows clearly on our faces, even way back then.