After Becky’s eventful morning, having crossed paths with Roy, and almost encountering a mountain lion, the rest of her day was mercifully quiet. She’d worked her lunch shift at the diner, and the song she’d started writing about Cody Cox virtually finished itself the moment she’d returned home and pulled out her guitar.
Relaxing and resting during the afternoon, she pondered her song list for The Cowbell that night. The crowd was local and she liked to give them something different each weekend, mixing up her originals and covers. She had made it a point to learn at least two new songs a week, and now had a vast repertoire. It was early evening when her cell phone rang and her heart jumped, hoping it was Cody. Staring at the screen she grimaced. Not only was it not Cody, it was Roy.
“Darn it, Roy, why are you calling me?” she asked, instantly regretting the irritable tone in her voice. It wasn’t like her to be rude, but she was running out of patience with his relentless pursuit.
“Hey, Becky. Just wondered if I could give you a lift tonight?”
“No, thank you, Roy.”
“Are you sure? I know you’ve got to lug that amp and your guitar an’ all, and I could help you.”
“Roy, no, thank you,” she replied. “I’ll see you later. I have to go.”
“Jeez, Becky, I was just offerin’ you a little help. No need to get all sore at me.”
Why did I answer the phone? she thought, promising herself she’d just let his calls go to voicemail in the future.
“Goodbye, Roy,” she said firmly, and clicked off the line.
Shaking off her irritation, she began sorting through her clothes, deciding on a pink plaid shirt with a gold thread running through it, light colored jeans, brown cowboy boots, and her favorite pink cowboy hat. She had just enough time for a light dinner before heading out. Her father always had something delicious prepared or her, and as she headed out into the kitchen, the enticing aroma brought a smile to her face.
“Smells amazing, Dad,” she smiled, “as always.”
“You look a treat in that outfit, honey,” he grinned, placing the meal on the table as she sat down.
“Thanks, Dad. Do you know if Auntie Joan joining us?”
Many times their lifelong friend would stop by for dinner. It was never planned, and her father always prepared more than enough in case she dropped in.
“She’ll be here in a little while. She’s going to come and help me at the diner tonight.”
Becky began to eat her dinner, her mind focused on the set and the night ahead. She loved her Saturday nights, and eagerly awaited the moment she would walk out on the stage.
“Dad, why don’t you close up some Saturday night and come and watch me?” she suggested as she took her last bite.
“I might just do that,” he agreed. “It’s been too long.”
Standing up from the table, she walked across and kissed him on the cheek.
“Wish me luck. Breaking in a new song tonight.”
“Good luck, I’m sure it’ll be a winner, just like all your others,” he said warmly. “Can I ask, is your new fella going to be there?”
“No,” Becky sighed. “Long story. I’ll tell you later.”
Walking quickly back to her bedroom, she grabbed her guitar and headed out the door, her amp already belted into the front passenger seat of her car.
It was a fifteen-minute drive to the club, and she found the parking lot already filling with cars. To her dismay she spied Roy’s bright red truck parked under a tree towards the back of the building. Climbing from her car she saw Alec, the bouncer, come striding out to help her.
“Hiya, Becky. Let me get that amp,” he offered.
“Thanks, Alec. I see Roy’s already here.”
“Now don’t you worry about him. He’s already been told, any trouble and he’s out,” the bouncer declared.
“That’s good to know, thanks. There’s a crowd already,” she commented, walking through the parking lot.
“You’re getting to be famous,” he chuckled. “Gotta few strangers amongst us as well.”
“I doubt they’re here for me,” she laughed, “but I like the thought.”
He walked her around to the side entrance and down the hallway to her dressing room.
“Have a good time,” he smiled.
“Thanks, Alec. I always do.”
She could hear the opening band already on stage, and closing her door to block the sound, she pulled out her guitar. She’d put ‘You’re A Stranger’ in the middle of the set, but was having second thoughts, and decided to sing it as her encore. Picking up her list she made the last minute changes, and rehearsed the songs she wanted to fine tune. A knock on the door told her she was out of time.
“Five minutes, Becky.”
It was Al, the assistant manager.
“Thanks, Al,” she called, and wishing she had time to practice just one more song, she turned to the brightly lit mirror to check her hair and makeup.
“You can come in. My amp’s right by the door.”
“How ya doin’ Hon?” he asked, opening the door and picking up her speaker.
“Great. Can’t wait to get up there.”
“And they can’t wait to hear you,” he grinned. “See you in a minute.”
She touched up her lipstick and mascara, ran the brush through the long locks that fell from under her hat, then standing up, shook herself and grabbed her guitar.
Out in the crowd, Jerry Golden was standing in the shadows, his small but powerful camcorder held discreetly in his hand, his arm hanging down at his side. Hank, the husky security guy, loitered nearby, his eyes constantly scanning, a habit he’d developed over the many years he’d been working with celebrities.
Jerry had been with Andrew for over a decade, and while he would have enjoyed watching Cash at Madison Square Garden, he’d attended almost all the shows Cash had played throughout the decade Andrew had been his road manager, and being out of Manhattan in a rural area to watch a homespun country singer was a welcome change.
They’d had no trouble identifying Roy. He was seated alone at a table off to the side of the stage, and had already consumed several beers in a short amount of time.
“Why don’t you get a little closer?” Jerry mumbled to his sidekick.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Hank remarked, and ambled casually towards Roy, taking up a position behind him.
The opening band finished their set and left the stage, and moments later, a tall, robust man stepped up to the mike.
“Hey folks, it’s that time. Who do we want?”
“BECKY” the crowd called.
Jerry was startled. He hadn’t expected such a surge of support.
“I didn’t hear you,” the man teased.
“BECKY” the crowd shouted, but this time with more volume.
Hoping there would be a third cheer, Jerry pulled up the camcorder, cursing himself for not having been ready.
“One more time,” the man demanded.
“BECKY, BECKY, BECKY,” the audience chanted.
“That’s better folks, she heard you that time. Give it up for our one, our only, our beautiful Becky!”
The crowd cheered and whistled and Jerry, watching the LCD screen, lifted his eyes as she walked on stage. She looked like an angel. The gold thread in her shirt sparkled as she moved, her long, blonde, wavy hair flowed around her perfect face, and as she smiled and waved at the crowd, he felt the goosebumps. He knew he was filming something special.
My God, she’s got stardust written all over her. If she can sing…damn…even if she can’t…
His pulse was quickening, and for the first time in many years he was nervous; he really wanted her to be good.
“Thank you all for coming. Gonna start with one of my favorites, and yours too I’ll bet. Jesus Take The Wheel by Carrie Underwood. Sometimes we try too hard and we need to have a little more faith.”
“Amen to that,” someone called.
“You got that right,” yelled another.
There were some whistles and a smattering of light applause, but the moment she ran her hand across the strings of her guitar, the place fell utterly silent. Jerry could hear his heart thumping as he waited anxiously for her to begin.
She was driving last Friday on her way to Cincinnati
On a snow white Christmas Eve
Going home to see her Mama and her Daddy with the baby in the backseat
Fifty miles to go and she was running low on faith and gasoline
It'd been a long hard year
The last time Jerry had felt the, ‘Oh-My-God, chill,’ was when he’d first heard Cash sing in a small club in Austin, Texas. He and Andrew had heard about the talented, handsome young rocker, and flown in from California to watch him. They’d known in the first thirty-seconds that Cash Colt was going to be a superstar. Now Jerry’s pulse was racing again, listening to the angel sing with perfect pitch, a crystal clear tone, and a depth to her voice he could hardly believe.
He was so mesmerized by her performance he didn’t see Roy lurch from his seat and stagger towards the stage. Only a couple of nearby patrons witnessed what happened, but they were so taken with the gorgeous girl singing, they didn’t take much notice. All they saw was a guy help Roy, who seemed to be quite drunk, stagger off to the side entrance.
“Come on, big fella,” Hank whispered threateningly in his ear. “You really don’t want to mess with me.”
Roy was big, but he was wasted and he was slow, and Hank had no problem landing a quick, surreptitious blow into Roy’s gut as he had lurched towards the stage. Fishing through Roy’s pockets he found a set of keys, and holding them in the air he pressed the remote. A large red truck beeped its identity, and Hank half-carried the stumbling, winded, drunkard, across the parking lot. Piling him into the passenger seat Hank buckled him in, stuffing the keys back in his pocket, and Roy was so out of it, he barely knew what was happening.
When Hank walked calmly back into The Cowbell through the same side door through which he’d left, Becky’s show was in full swing, and no-one paid him any attention. Languidly he wandered back to Jerry’s side, watching the girl for the first time. She was good, really good, and the crowd absolutely loved her.
“What do you think?” Hank asked.
“She’s a diamond, an absolute diamond,” Jerry replied. “Where’s our boy?”
“In his truck, trying to catch his breath and almost passed out,” Hank quietly replied.
“What? I didn’t even see you. What happened.”
“Seemed like he wanted to join the show, so I suggested he get some fresh air.”
“No shit?” Jerry asked, not moving his eyes from the stage.
“No shit,” Hank confirmed.
As the show continued Jerry’s excitement grew. The order of her songs had brought the crowd to a peak, and when her set ended, she gracefully bowed and exited, but as Jerry expected they would, the audience yelled and chanted until she returned. Pulling over a high stool, she perched herself behind the microphone.
“Thank you all so much,” she beamed. “I hope you’ll indulge me just a bit. I wrote this the other day. Just kind of, fell out of the sky. It’s called, You’re A Stranger.”
Her fingers began plucking the strings, and a soft, rhythmic melody floated through the hushed room.
You’re a stranger to be sure,
but my heart’s a sayin’ you’re so much more,
You were here for just a flash, then you had to go,
but my heart’s a sayin, there’s more I need to know.
You’re stuck in my head, I can’t shake you,
but it doesn’t matter, ‘cos I don’t want to.
You’re a stranger to be sure,
but my heart’s a sayin’ you’re so much more.
Where did you spring from
And where did you go
I pray our paths will cross
Where did you spring from
And where did you go
You’ve left me at a loss
You’re a stranger to be sure,
but my heart’s a sayin’ you’re so much more,
Hazel eyes that looked right through me
Tell me stranger, what did you see?
Tell me stranger, did you hear my heart
Did you hear me sigh when I watched you depart
You’re stuck in my head, I can’t shake you,
but it doesn’t matter, ‘cos I don’t want to.
You’re a stranger to be sure,
but my heart’s a sayin’ you’re so much more.
Where did you spring from
And where did you go
I pray our paths will cross
Where did you spring from
And where did you go
You’ve left me here at a loss
Where did you spring from
And where did you go
I pray our paths will cross
Where did you spring from
And where did you go
You’ve left me here at a loss
There was a momentary pause as she finished the last chorus, then the crowd erupted, and Jerry watched dumbfounded, as she bowed and moved off the stage. Turning off the camera he reached for his beer, took a swig, then motioned for Hank that it was time to leave.
Stepping out of the smoky, excessively warm club, Jerry inhaled the fresh, cool night air. He knew he’d just heard a hit song and seen a young woman who was destined to become a huge star, especially with Cash Colt behind her.
“No wonder he sent me down here,” he remarked, as they settled into the black, Cadillac SUV.
“She’s damn good,” Hank commented.
“That,” declared Jerry, “is the understatement of the year.”
Hank pulled the SUV out of the parking lot and started up the back country road to the main highway, but in the distance he saw bright flashing lights reflected in the dark country sky. As they approached he slowed down, and Jerry saw the front of a red truck buried in a tree trunk, and Roy sitting in the back seat of a squad car.
“Damn, I guess he woke up,” Jerry remarked.
“I guess he did. Why the hell did he start driving?” Hank frowned. “Some people never learn.”