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When I made that stupid comment about Piper needing her rain boots when we got caught in the rain, I thought she would look at me like I was crazy. I wasn’t expecting her to remember that morning. And now that I know it’s tied up in a painful memory for her, I feel even weirder about it. Especially since I’ve avoided every possible opportunity to tell her about the song. I’ve had dozens of chances to mention it and avoided every single one.
I wrote the song as an inside joke. Out of annoyance.
Songwriting has always been about random sparks for me, and my first conversation with Piper was more like an inferno in my imagination. And while “Blue Rain Boots” might be based on a moment of reality, most of it is fantasy. Selling a story. The longer I go without mentioning it, the stranger it’ll seem.
I promised myself I’d play it live if she was ever in the audience.
Because I never thought she’dbein the audience. Never thought I’d possibly have to follow through on that decision. Never thought she’d be sleeping under my roof, making me coffee every morning and driving me to get a tetanus shot. Never thought she’d be more than a fantasy.
“Hey, Kyle.” Hank Reynolds steps into the tent, letting the flap fall shut behind him.
The tent is doing a better job of muffling the commotion outside than I realized.
I stand, setting my guitar down and shaking his hand. Hank is on the town council and one of the main organizers behind the fair. A role he takes very seriously, as evidenced by his neatly combed graying hair and the button-down that looks freshly ironed.
“Band’s all set, and everything is set up. Just wanted to make sure that you’re ready?”
I nod. “I’m ready.”
“Fantastic.” He claps my shoulder. “I’ll let the band know and introduce you.”
“Sounds good.”
“While I have you here…do you remember my youngest? Jeremy?”
I nod even though I’m not sure I do.
“He’s gotten into music lately, and he—well, he booked a gig in Mayville on Friday night. The Wilkie place, Whiskey Cowboy, you know? Anyway, if you’re around and feel like stopping by, I know it would mean a lot to Jeremy.”
“I’ll try to swing by.”
Hank beams. “Appreciate it. I’ll see you out there.” He waves at Brayden, then disappears.
“Maybe this kid will be the next King of Country,” Brayden comments, standing from his spot in the corner.
I blow out a breath. “Brayden…”
“You’re walking away. I heard you. I get it. Life’s a bitch. Just remember…” He pauses beside me. “People pray and beg and lie and cheat and steal and sacrifice to get where you’re standing. I get the view isn’t always great. But is it better anywhere else?” He raises one eyebrow, then steps out of the tent, leaving me standing here.
A few seconds later, I hear Hank’s amplified voice greeting the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, do we ever have a treat for you. Please welcome to the stage Oak Grove’s very own and the king of country music, Kyyyyle Spencerrrr!”
I pull in a deep breath, grab my Gibson, exhale, and then step out of the tent. I pass Brayden and walk up the stairs onto the stage, shaking Hank’s hand and then lifting mine to wave to the crowd. The lights onstage are blinding, so much brighter than I remember them being.
Some view, I think.
But I heard Brayden’s point—a little. I might have quite literally stumbled into this career, the way I told Piper earlier, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t worked for it. Haven’t fought for it. Didn’t prioritize it. I missed what turned out to be the last years of my mom’s life because I was so busy being the fucking King of Country.
I reach the center of the stage. “How y’all doing tonight, Oak Grove?”
The answering roar is deafening.
I grin. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you guys. I said,how y’all doing tonight, Oak Grove?”
The response is still ringing through the air when I slip in my in-ear monitors and signal to the band. It’s strange to be performing without my usual crew, but they’re all enjoying a well-deserved break. It wasn’t worth flying them all here for a few songs even if this is the last time I’ll perform live.
I launch into the opening verse of one of my biggest hits, “Texas Moon,” and the crowd knows every single word. I can see mouths moving past the glare of the lights even though the earpieces muffle the sound to keep me on key.
