Page 41 of Love Songs

“Don’t set any stages on fire,” Sam called out as I headed for the door.

“I’ll do my best,” I replied with a tip of my head.

Smiling as I exited the shop, I made my way toward the fire station on Maple Street, but stopped as I passed Waylon Music. I wasn’t sure why I stopped. Maybe because I’d loved hanging out in small music stores growing up and a sense of nostalgia called to me. There was so much energy and a feeling of belonging in them, being surrounded by all those instruments and kindred spirits.

I turned on my heel and entered the store. The mingling scents of leather, polished wood, metal, and the musky notes of antiques transported me back to when I was the same age as Jaylin was now, picking out my first real guitar. I used to sit in the back of the store for hours, strumming as many guitars as they’d let me. I’d been there so often the manager had finally offered me my first after-school job.

A man a few inches shorter than me, with a round belly stretching his black polo shirt and silver shot through his brown hair, approached with a friendly smile and boss energy. Behind him, a young man with shaggy brown hair, who was probably around the same age as me when I started that first job, stared at me with wide brown eyes and his mouth hanging open.

“You’re Dallas Blade,” the teen blurted, darting around the manager.

“I am, yes.” I smiled my polite stranger smile.

“I saw your show on Founders Day. It was so good, but too short. How’s your voice?”

I was stunned silent for the second time today. This kid in an old Iron Maiden concert shirt that had seen better days was the first fan to ever ask me about my voice. That said, I didn’t get to spend much time with fans outside of backstage meet-and-greets and organized events. And bonus, he hadn’t brought up the fire.

“Thank you,” I answered, feeling genuinely touched by his concern. By all the people I’d met in this little town. “The show was a test, and it held up good.”

But his concern didn’t mean I wanted to share more with him. That my voice hadn’t been great for a few days after the show and had me questioning my future as a front man. The last thing the band needed was for rumors spreading online that I might not be recovering as well as I’d hoped.

A phone rang, echoing throughout the store.

“Ian.” The manager turned to his employee. “Can you get that please?”

Ian hesitated, biting his bottom lip, but when the manager cleared his throat, Ian darted across the floor to the counter and picked up the phone.

“I’m Waylon,” he said, and held out his hand. “What can I help you with today?”

Ah, so the boss man was the owner. I shook his hand.

“Honestly, I just had the urge to wander in,” I said. “I used to love hanging out in music stores when I was younger.”

“I get that.” He chuckled knowingly. “I opened this store the second I’d saved enough money to buy the building.”

I whistled. “That’s impressive.”

His cheeks colored, and he shrugged. “Would you like to try out one of our instruments?”

“Yes. I would love that.” A giddy feeling bubbled inside. How long had it been since I’d sat in a store and tinkered on the instruments for the sheer joy of it? Too long.

Waylon pulled a beautiful Gibson Hummingbird Original acoustic with a mahogany neck and rosewood fingerboard from the wall display of acoustic and electric guitars.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, handing it to me with a wink.

I put my chocolate boxes on a counter and sat on a stool across from the wall, then settled the guitar in my lap before strumming a few chords. Once my fingers were limber, I launched into a medley of popular guitar riffs that had Waylon grinning ear-to-ear and Ian bopping his head along. They both clapped when I finished.

“She’s got a beautiful sound,” I said, reluctantly handing the Gibson back, but the last thing I needed wasanotherguitar.

“Sure does,” Waylon agreed. “Thank you for that. It’s not often we get a big-name musician in here to play for us.”

“Like never,” Ian added.

“Well, you never know,” I said with a conspiratorial note in my voice. “I might be back.”

Ian’s entire face lit up and I swear he did a little hop and jump on the spot.

“Sweet!”

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