Page 4 of Love Songs

Eldi trotted along at my side as I made my way over to the park, where half a dozen local bands would play throughout the day. Well, the headlining band wasn’t all that local. The Dallas Blade Band had come as a surprise to the small town of Caldwell Crossing. Dallas Blade was a huge international star who played arenas and stadiums. Not Founders Day Fairs in tiny city parks.

I would’ve been more curious as to the reason behind them playing at our event if the band’s manager hadn’t constantly hassled me for permits to use pyrotechnics on stage. I’d said no over and over, becausehello? Major fire risk there.

But then Blade himself had called.

As irritated as I’d been at having to deal with Blade, his voice had some sort of hypnotizing magic to it—deep and melodic, with a touch of rasp that shot straight to my groin. He’d short-circuited my brain, and I’d caved.

Only a little!

I’d maintained enough wits to not sign off on the full display they’d wanted, but I did agree to a couple of small pots for the end of their set.

I regretted that now, as I made my way through the park and behind the band shell to a gravel lot that had been designated for the performers to park their vehicles, and with Dallas Blade,a tour bus. The thing was flashy and expensive looking, with its spotless, deep green paint job, tinted windows, and polished chrome accents. The band’s name wasn’t splashed across the side, but there was a black and yellow DBB logo above the handle on the bus door.

I knocked on the door, hammering my knuckles dead center on the sticker, as Eldi squatted to take a pee by the front tire.

“Good girl,” I praised, grinning. Yeah, I was an adult.

The door squeaked open and the man standing in the frame had short dark hair threaded with strands of gray and crow’s feet around the corners of his shark-like brown eyes.

“Hi,” I said, plastering a wide smile across my face. “I’m Lieutenant Holliston with the Caldwell Crossing Fire Department. I’m looking for Brian Lawton.”

“That’s me.” Brian stepped out onto the stairs, closing the door behind him, and extended a hand. I shook it. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“I wanted to introduce myself and make sure we’re on the same page with pyro for your show this afternoon.”

“All set,” Brian said, his tone curt. He eyed Eldi like she was some kind of attack dog when she sat dutifully at my side. “As agreed. Was there something else?”

I shook my head and said, “I’ll drop by when your band is setting up to double check that everything is fireproof.”

“There’s no need for that,” Brian argued, his bushy eyebrows furrowed.

“Just the same.” I stepped back, my grin firmly in place. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

I RAISED ANeyebrow when Brian stepped back inside the bus. His lips pursed tight.

He was filling in for our full-time road manager, who was on a much-needed sabbatical because he worked too much, took everything to heart, and the stress had been taking a toll on his health. Brian Lawton had come well recommended as a man with an attention to detail who got things done, but I’d yet to see that, seeing asIwas the one who “got things done”, especially for our pyro permit. One small show I already had concerns about Brian staying on staff when we got back to arena tours.

“That was Lieutenant Holliston from the fire department,” Brian said. Irritation rang in his voice as he correctly read my silent question. “Making sure we’re set with the pyro this afternoon.”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes, saying what I thought about that pain in the ass without speaking. I would have had a lot of words to share about how the small-town fire department lieutenant seemed to go out of his way to restrict our show, but I needed to conserve my voice for the stage later.

“How’s the voice?” Brian asked, giving me a look that reminded me of my late grandmother, with her head tippeddown, glaring at me over the top of her bifocals, whenever I did something she didn’t approve of.

I shrugged and held my hand up, rocking it in a see-saw motion. My voice was probably doing better than I was, as I fought a rare case of stage fright at being able to perform to a level our fans expected.

He watched me for a second, his gaze assessing, and with a quick nod, he sat back down at the small table he’d claimed as his office desk and returned to his concert day checklist. A lot of work went into a show, even for a small town, seven-song gig.

I looked outside. Thick green trees blocked the view of the band shell, birds sang and fluttered about, and the sky was spotless blue. For a second, I imagined I was camping somewhere magical, far off the grid.

A woman with long dark hair jumped out of the driver’s seat of a white van painted with red polka dots that pulled into the lot and met a tall man at the back door. They began unloading musical equipment from the vehicle. The polka band, I deduced. They were the first act in today’s lineup. My band was the headline act, which, given we’d been headlining stadiums for well over a decade, I should not be feeling this nervous.

I caught myself gnawing on my lower lip in my reflection in the one-way window and sighed. I couldn’t just sit here, but I didn’t want to get out and wander around. Someone would inevitably recognize me and force me to talk. And if I didn’t, they’d think I was an entitled asshole. So instead, I pulled my acoustic guitar onto my lap and plucked the strings in search of a new melody while my mind wandered.

It had been three months since the surgery—thesecondsurgery—for vocal nodules, polyps, and this time a small tear, and today would be my first time singing since. Aside from regular vocal exercises and reduced rehearsals, that was. Thisshow was another rehearsal of sorts. A test to see how my voice held up.Ifit would hold up and I’d still have a career.

I’d been singing all my life and started my first band with some high school buddies. We were your typical teenage garage band with dreams of grandeur, playing parties and the occasional talent night, but that was as far as we’d got. When half the band left town for college, me and Kirk, my best friend and lead guitarist from the beginning, formed the band as it is today. We got our big break when I was only eighteen years old, and we haven’t stopped since.

Well, until my voice, my instrument, gave out.

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