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The screen rises as he welcomes everyone, and behind it sits a shiny black grand piano, some microphones, and a lone guitar. My mind wanders to Andie as her dad speaks about his role at the hospital. Her standing on the small podium in the middle of the field flashes through my mind, and the look of grief and fear in her eyes just before she started to sing. Then, the glow of those green eyes when she challenged me afterward. The same ones that stared back at me tonight when I entered. But as she walked away, leaving me with her grandmother, her eyes were softer. Still full of sass, but a gentler version, maybe as if it’s used as a shield.
“Well, without further ado, I’m happy to introduce you all to my daughter. Some of you may have seen her around the hospital, playing and singing for the kids. Tonight, she’s here to help us raise funds to continue our progress in our mission of saving lives. I’m told she’s performing a classical piece, and the more money you dish out, the longer she’ll play. So get those wallets out, and please welcome Andrea Taninbaugh.”
The crowd claps as Andie steps out, walking directly to the piano. Her father didn’t address her as Andie Parks, and it feels like another puzzle piece is falling into place.
She sits at the piano and gets comfortable before resting her hands on the keys. The room is silent, except for the subtlesound of forks scraping against plates. People are eating, but I sit back anxiously, waiting to see what she can do.
The room fills with the soft sounds of her fingers on the keys, which quickly ramps up into a fast-tempo classical piece. It’s sharp and loud, and I’m amazed at her precision and expertise. The song must go on for minutes before she winds down, playing more softly again as it comes to an end. The room erupts with applause as Andie stands and turns to face us.
She walks to a microphone, adjusting it so she can speak. “Thank you. I’m sure you all saw those amazing kids in the video earlier, and you heard what my dad said. If you want more, you have to pay up.” She smiles as laughter makes its way around the room.
“I’ve spent a lot of time with the kids over the years. It’s one of my favorite places to visit, so I can tell you that not one penny will go unappreciated or unused for something amazing.”
She pauses. “These kids need people like you to help them in the fight of their lives. So pull out your wallets, purses, and phones and help my dad and all of the amazing doctors, nurses, and staff continue to give these kids the best, most innovative care possible.” She clasps her hands together. “And hurry up because you’ll get another song out of me, but that might be it.”
She smiles and adjusts the mic stand as the man I met earlier, Jonsey, steps out with a stool and hands her a guitar. My eyes are glued to her as she gets comfortable with the guitar across her lap. She pulls a pick from between her teeth, pushes her curls out of her face, and tucks them behind her ear. She adjusts the mic, taking just a second to look around.
I see her take a deep breath before she speaks. “This is something new.”
She starts strumming, and instantly, it’s beautiful. The sound is soft and melodic. Then, her voice takes over, hitting a wholenew dimension. The room is silent except for her, and you can’t help but be drawn in.
I listen to the words, and understanding hits. Andie told me she was looking to move on…forward, and I remember the hesitancy in her tone when she said it. Her words speak of unbelievable loss, broken promises, and people warning her that it was bound to happen. Her anger fades into sadness as she sings about wanting them to be wrong but never believing it would turn out this way.
I’m frozen in awe. Not just by her ability and incredible talent but by her sheer rawness and the emotions pouring out with each word. To be so completely vulnerable and…honest, especially when only minutes ago she was warned not to be.
The final note rings in the air, and the room erupts again, much louder this time. Andie smiles with glossy eyes. Her head drops forward as if she’s relieved, but it only lasts a second before Jonesy comes out to collect her guitar. He stops to hug her long and hard before stepping away again. After a second, she takes the mic again as two women join her off to the side, with Jonesy at the piano this time.
A new tune fills the space, and she laughs. “I see what you’re doing, Jonesy.” She looks back at the crowd as the music picks up the beat. “Apparently, I’m doing this one next. It’s calledMake It Happen,and it’s one of my very favorites.”
For the next half hour, Andie puts on a show. The room comes alive, and the people are into it. She’s giving them what they want and more. For reasons I find I really want to understand, this woman doesn’t want this. To be on stage, in the limelight, even though she’s amazing in it. But for tonight and for the kids and the hospital, she’s giving her talent away. That shows me the kind of person she is.
She wraps another song and tells the crowd goodnight, much to their displeasure. The waiter comes by and takes away myuntouched plate. I didn’t come for the food or the attention or anything besides seeing my money going to good use, but I’ve gained something from Andie about the kind of person I want to be. The kind that gives away, not just because they can, but because it matters and it’s important–it’s personal.
That’s what I need more of in my life. That’s what’s missing at the end of the day, leaving a giant hole where the tangible, authentic, and absolute should reside and hold true, regardless of my name or profession and the fame that comes with it.
I leave the table and make my way to the bar, ordering a whiskey on the rocks and try to let it sink in. I watch from a distance as the dance floor fills with couples, moving to the music pumped through the speakers. A second later, Ms. Taninbaugh sidles up next to me, and I have no doubt it’s not coincidental.
“Hey, handsome, another VO and water.” She lifts her empty glass to the bartender, swirling the ice before setting it on the bar. She turns to peek up at me. “I understand you and my granddaughter spent a little quality time together recently.”
I take a sip of my drink. “Just a bit.” Without knowing what Andie said and the misunderstanding of me being her date, I don’t offer more.
Her focus remains forward, and I’m curious to see where this is going.
“She's quite something, isn’t she?” she asks, and I suspect she’s talking about more than just her performance tonight.
“Yes, ma’am. Seems so.”
Turning to look at me, she arches one dark penciled eyebrow. “You call me ma’am again, and you might lose a testicle.”
I almost choke on my whiskey but catch it before it goes down the wrong pipe. The bartender sets her drink on the bar, and she lifts it, turning to face me straight on.
“You helped her earlier when you didn’t have to. Something tells me you’ve got balls. It takes big ones to make it in this world.” She squints her eyes, inspecting me, and it feels like she has the ability to see more than I want her to. “I might like you, Sean Greyson, and I don’t like many people.” She takes a slow sip of her drink and turns away, glancing back for just a second. “Now, if you’re smart, you’ll go save her from that handsy prick who’s got her trapped on the dance floor.”
I watch her walk away before my eyes search and zero in on Andie. She’s being held tightly, and by the look on her face, not willingly. The man has one hand splayed close to her butt and the other white-knuckled on her hand. He’s short, with dark hair, and seems to have an issue with no.
I drain my glass, willing myself to ignore what I might get into as I push away from the bar and stride toward her.
I stop just behind the bastard who’s holding her hostage. He’s inches shorter than I am, and I can make out Andie telling him to let her go.
