Page 7 of Chronicles of a Rockin' Mess

“Come on, let’s get back,” I say to him after we pull ourselves together. We link arms and meander back through the city streets while making car and sex jokes the entire time. As I lean my head on his shoulder, I’m reminded of why I have a crush on Lincoln. When he’s like this, he’s amazing.

Chapter 5

The next few hours are a rush as we are whisked away to Barcelona for the final show. The setup for the concert seems to be going well, so Coop bails out early, leaving Jerry, his second-in-command, to oversee a few last details.

“Come on, Lark. Last city, last pub,” he says. I really just want to crawl in bed and sleep, but how often do I get to see Barcelona. We don’t have a whole day here. We arrived first thing this morning, after a few hours we went for soundcheck, and now Coop and I have four hours to wander around the city before we need to get back. Gwen is handling the band along with Gary, so Lincoln graciously excused me from the media events this morning. We are closing out a small festival on the edge of the city. I’m looking forward to seeing some of the other bands like Magnolia Tear, a jazz band that I’ve come to love.

“Let’s just grab one drink at a pub, OK? I really want to mingle with the bands today,” I tell Coop.

“Fine, woman, but seriously, we should live it up, it’s our last night in Europe!” he exclaims enthusiastically.

“Coop, I may be twenty-one, but I think twenty-one days of partying is beyond my maximum,” I retort.

He takes my arm in his and leads me down Las Ramblas. It’s a lovely day out, and we find a little pub and settle in for our last hurrah.

Two drinks later, we are heading back toward the festival. We pass beautiful buildings like La Sagrada Familia on our way, and I pull out my phone to take photos.

We pull up at the festival just in time for me to see Magnolia Tear taking the stage. I grab Coop’s hand and pull him to the side stage to listen. I just love them. Hank, Leo, and Joe are amazing, and the crowd loves them too. They only play one soulfully slow song, and the rest is fairly lively jazz that has even the youngest in the crowd on their feet and dancing.

Hank sees me off to the side and beckons me on stage. I shake my head.

“How about you all help me welcome a good friend of mine?” he says to the crowd. The crowd gets loud. I roll my eyes. Hank’s done this once before, and I wanted to kill him. Lincoln doesn’t know I still sing other than the coffee shop; so, fortunately, he’s never asked me out on stage. Kade knows, but he also knows I hate big crowds and that’s all we’ve played for lately. Harry, well, Harry’s in his own little world when they play. Coop pushes me out on stage.

Hank takes my hand and walks me over to a microphone. “Let’s do a duet,” he suggests. I smile as he starts singing one of my favorite duets, “Dream a Little Dream.” I comply and close my eyes as the song fills my senses. I forget about the audience as I let the music flow through my soul, and when I’m through I hear the roar of the applause from the audience.

“Let’s hear it for my good friend, Lark,” Hank yells to more wild applause. I bow and oblige Hank to sing backup on one final song.

The roar of the crowd continues as we head off stage after; it’s overwhelming and exhilarating.

“You were great!” Hank exclaims as he hugs me. “You got a spot with us anytime you want to sing, little lady.”

“Damn right!” Joe says as he claps me on the back.

“You just come on down to Nola, and we’ll hook you up,” Leo adds in his deep Southern drawl.

I grin at them. “That was fun, thanks for dragging me out there.”

“Holy shit! You can sing! Like really, really sing,” Coop says, his mouth still hanging open.

I slap his arm. “Geez, Coop, don’t look so shocked, I did come out to LA to sing originally, you know.”

“Well, lots of kids do, but…why haven’t you ever sang for me before?” he asks with a frown.

I shake my head and laugh. “I have, but mostly karaoke after way too much alcohol,” I point out. Coop doesn’t know about my Thursday sets at a local coffee shop, where I play for the same four old people every week.

He laughs too. “Touché.”

“Come on. You have setup, and I have to go check in on his royal highness,” I say to him.

Lincoln

My jaw may never come back off the floor where it has fallen. The second Lark began to sing on stage, she transformed, like a butterfly. She’s a songbird, not just because I call her my “little birdie” but because she can really sing, like really, really sing. Her voice…is amazing.

I knew she liked to go play around at some local coffee shop, but I always figured she didn’t really love it or was really not good from what she had told me when I hired her. She had always said she was told she’d never make it as a singer. I felt bad for her, but thousands of people don’t make it as singers, so it’s not shocking or unusual. If I’m being honest, I’ve been a dick. I should have gone to see her perform before tonight. I should have shown interest in her music. Christ, I’m an idiot. I’ve been so sucked into my career that I don’t even show support to the ones I care about. I can’t believe I haven’t seen her music skills before this moment. She is a bona fide star.

As I contemplate this, two things become clear in my mind, and I swallow as I realize I don’t like either. One, Lark needs to pursue her own singing career. And two, I’m in love with her, but she deserves so much more than me. I push aside both thoughts because, right now, I have to compose myself and go perform. I can’t have a mindfuck like this in my head while I’m on stage.

I hurry back to the dressing room and find a bottle of vodka and down several large swigs. Kade walks in and glares at me.

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