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“You cooking dinner actually sounds mighty nice,” I said, with a grin. “I’ll be home soon.”
“I’ll see you when you get—home,” Drake said.
Then I hung up the phone, started up the car, and drove home as fast as I could.
CHAPTER 39
Drake
The standing room concert venue was riddled with tables and chairs. In a standing room, the Mercy Lounge could hold one thousand guests. But I didn’t want people standing for my entire concert. I had a pregnant girlfriend who would need to sit, and I was sure there would be others who wouldn’t appreciate having to stand for an hour with a drink in their hand. So I rented tables and chairs and made sure the bar was ready to have servers on standby for the people who were coming to the concert.
But the best thing of all was Delia and her presence. She was at a table in the back corner with Stacy. Or Cindy. Or whatever the hell that woman’s name was. The woman she always talked about at work. The advice-giver. The one that reminded her of a mom even though she had Delia’s fire in her eyes. They were having their girl time and enjoying food before the concert, picking at things and sipping on brightly-colored drinks. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. How happy she was and how beautifully she was dressed. She had on this pair of boots I’d bought her, with turquoise and pink decorative detail riding up the sides. And the dress she had on clung to her bosom in a way that made me salivate as I stared at her from backstage.
Delia was excited to introduce me to her friend. I hated that I couldn't remember her name, but in my defense, I could hardly remember anyone’s name. I fucking called Hank ‘Henry’ for the first two months he managed me.
The only person’s name I had ever committed to memory right off the bat was Delia’s.
Delia’s friend had been warm and down to earth when I met her. Full of life and very compelling. I could see why Delia regarded her as a mother figure, and I was glad she had someone like that in her life now. She needed that influence. That motherly advice that bordered on ‘let’s get real.’ Especially with what she was going through. She was blossoming with a life growing in her body and was changing in so many ways. Women needed their mothers during this time—during pregnancy and childbirth.
I was really glad she had someone like Sidney.
Sadie?
Fuck.
It was time for me to come out on stage and a warm applause was given. Delia and her coworker were both on their feet, as was the rest of the room. Drinks were high in the air as Hank glared at me from backstage. This was my first performance in a place like this, surrounded by alcohol, the substance that had almost taken my life from me. He kept telling me this was a bad idea. Telling me that I wasn’t ready to perform in a venue like this.
But I told him I would be okay, and I would be as long as Delia was there. She was my strength. My rock. The reminder I needed as to why I was traveling this journey in the first place. I scanned the crowd and saw all the beers dripping with a condensation I could feel on my fingertips. I found Delia’s face in the crowd, and saw the worry reflected there. I could see her eyes counting all the drinks in the air as I stood there, waiting for her gaze to return to me.
Then when she found me again, I threw her a simple wink.
I did my first two songs and could tell the fans were really liking this softer side. Just me, my guitar, and a part-time drummer I had hired for a couple of numbers. He sat on this weird little box thing and had a soft rhythm going through a few of the numbers that were a little more upbeat. It was something I’d tried hiring Landon to do, but neither he nor Stone were picking up the phone for me right now.
I figured it was probably for the best.
The fans swayed and those who were sitting held the hands of the people they’d come with. Delia’s friend held her hand, providing comfort to the woman I loved, who I knew was worrying over me. I strummed my guitar and kept my eyes on her, trying to feed from the strength she had no idea she gave me. I allowed myself the time to breathe her in, even though she was all the way across the room—tucked away in a dark corner to try and give other people a chance to be nearer to me.
It came to the end of my second song and I felt a sort of inspiration come over me. Inspiration I hadn’t felt since I’d first started this journey as a musical artist. I turned toward my hired drummer and waved him off, keeping him from ushering in the third song of the set.
I had something I wanted to say. Something I wanted the crowd at this concert to know.
“I wanna thank y’all for comin,’ tonight,” I said, as I slung my guitar around to my back. “It’s uh—it’s been awhile since I’ve performed in a place like this. This is the types of venue I started performing in when I was still gettin’ my name out. But these are also places that are forbidden for people like myself. People who struggle with things like I do.”
Scanning the crowd, I found Delia’s eyes, her brows stitched together in confusion.
“Before we get into more of my set, I wanna tell y’all a story. A story that’s near and dear to my heart. A story that changed my life. I think it’s appropriate, especially with findin’ my roots again like I’ve been doin’ these days.”
I tossed Delia another wink before my eyes scanned the crowd again.
“This story is about a woman. A stubborn little woman who found herself at the side of a broken man. She was a bright, shining beacon of innocence and hope, and this man? Well, he was drownin’ in the river of bourbon. This stubborn woman, with her powerful voice and her tiny little frame, came swoopin’ in on a job she had no business bein’ employed to. He threw everythin’ at her to get her to quit. Shovelin’ shit outta stalls and tryin’ to repair tractors. Workin’ up a sweat by doin’ all sorts of things her job didn’t require. And when that didn’t work, he turned to flirtin’ with her. Crossin’ that forbidden line his manager told him he didn’t need to be crossin.’ Figured an innocent little light like hers would flicker and fade the moment he got his hands on her. But it didn’t. She didn’t.”
I drew in a deep breath as the crowd focused on my every word.
“This stubborn little woman and that broken man went through a lot. Poisonin,’ fightin,’ arguin,’ and tryin’ to figure one another out. And in all of that turmoil and all that—that bullshit, somehow that shinin’ beacon of hope and that broken, dark man somehow found love again. This beautiful woman and the man she took in somehow found a home with one another, even though they were both frightened of what a home would bring. Both had experienced great loss in their homes. Great trials and great—amounts of—well—shit,” I said.
The crowd chuckled while some held their beers up to cheer on what I was saying.
“But they found one another,” I said. “And they clung to each other. Even though rehab, hesitations, and fears separated them, that broken man was prepared to pursue her to the ends of the earth. And when that stubborn woman decided to let her light shine instead of tryin’ to snuff it out, somethin’ wonderful happened. Uh, yeah—whoever’s runnin’ the lights, could you toss one over to the back right corner? Yep. Right there. Thanks.”
