It was a brilliant idea. So, I did just that.
ME
So, we’re at the Zamboneys show. You got a hookup with anyone?
I waited until she responded. My phone buzzed as they turned over to quieter song.
LEAH
Lou shares a lawyer with their lead singer. I know their manager AJ. What do you want?
ME
They’re in UniVox. I want to meet them.
LEAH
Sure. I can message him. I got you, babes.
If anyone could call in a favor, it was Leah. The industrywas almost as incestuous as the royal family tree we’d both sprung from. I turned my attention to the show.
Mary spoke as the band played. “This one is a new one we wrote on the road. It’s a little rough and doesn’t have a name yet, but I hope you love it.”
I’d not appreciated the feeling of listening to a live, acoustic version of a raw song before. As silly as it sounded, I never thought much about music until recently. But, as we all swayed to the chorus, everyone poured their hearts out. The song was about setting everything aside and moving on from a time of loss. Mary’s voice poured out gently. The sound wasn’t as powerful as her words, but its raw, emotional quality did the prose justice.
My phoned buzzed. I ignored it, too enraptured in the bridge. There was nothing like the unexpected high note she hit at the end. Mary’s face showed genuine surprise—a sensitive, deep appreciation—as the crowd erupted.Does she not know how enigmatic she is?
I couldn’t help but beam. I met celebrities regularly. They attended events I hosted and stood on the rail at competitions in Ocala and Wellington. They sometimes stayed with Leah and Lourdes and hobnobbed with them at yacht parties. But what Mary had—what she brought out in a sad song—was completely beyond. She was authentic and raw in a way most people weren’t. I craved her attention.
I wondered if the way I was drawn to her was how everyone felt in this moment, but I supposed I’d never know until I had another chance to talk to Mary. I was determined to make it happen. Not one to take no for an answer, Iwouldspeak to Mary if it killed me.
Chapter 7
VIPs
MARY
AJ approached with an arm full of bottled water, hurrying us into the green room.
“Great show, guys!” He said. “Fuck, that crowd was all about you!”
I gulped water as I recovered from the adrenaline that only playing a small venue brought. The feeling was bittersweet as it was probably our last small show in a very long time—hopefully forever if our label had our backs. My ears still rang. I wanted to drink a beer and come down, but needed to hydrate. I was too old to come off stage and slam a beer.
“So, are we calling that Wayside then?” Barry wiped his brow.
I shrugged. “I was. What do you think?”
“Wayside makes sense,” Clarice said.
Alicia nodded. “Works.”
I raised my bottle of water. “Then, we have a name.”
“Gotta wrangle studio time,” AJ chimed.
“Oh, fuck no!” I nearly spat my water out. “It’s nowhere near ready.”
“It’s raw. It’s real,” AJ said. “You’re too close to this. I will look for some time. I think it could be a hit.”
