Page 41 of Betsy
But today that had been stripped away. What I’d seen on her face for one unguarded second had been raw, vulnerable, and had set my soul on fire. She’d quickly reset her walls and tried to prod me to a reaction, but no matter how many redirects she’d thrown at me, I’d never forget the slackness of her jaw, the flush of her skin, or the proof in her eyes that this pull I felt between us wasn’t one sided. She felt it too.
“I think this is our exit coming up.” Dave pointed out the windshield to the green road signs above the highway. He hated the computerized voices on phone GPS systems so had made anyone occupying the passenger seat the navigator.
I looked down at the muted phone in my hands. The directions did say to exit. “Yeah, you’re going to get off here and go another ten miles.”
Large shadows covered portions of the wide blanket of barren land, cast by white cotton ball-type clouds floating in the sea of blue above. We’d miss driving into the heart of the iconic city, although the black pyramid of the Luxor Hotel and Casino as well as the skylines of the MGM Grand and the Eiffel Tower’s doppelganger at the Paris Las Vegas Hotel were hard to miss. Since the city never slept, we could always head to the strip after the concert and see the Bellagio fountains or pretend we were in Venice and go on a gondola ride at the Venetian. Then again, once the final notes were played, the audience went home, and we packed all the equipment back up, the only thing any of us would want to do was crash.
Dave pulled into a church that hadn’t quite grown into the title ofmegayet. The building occupancy had been set at eight hundred people. Instead of selling tickets, the church had hired us outright for their congregants and as a community outreach opportunity. Drought-resistant plants sprawled across the grounds, popping up between beds of gleaming white rocks, while the building itself had a sloping roof on either side from a central three-story metal cross. The whole effect was grand and impressive.
Dave killed the engine, and we all exited the bus, our eyes pulled skyward by the massive cross. Clicking heels dragged my gaze back downward. A smartly dressed middle-aged woman made a beeline toward us from the glass door entrance.
“Welcome to Connect Church.” Her arm swept to the side. “My name is Mona, and let me just say on behalf of everyone that we are so pleased to have you with us.”
Tricia was closest and reached out her hand to shake Mona’s. “We’re thrilled to be here.”
Mona beamed. “Why don’t I show you all around a little bit, and then you can start setting up or do whatever you need to do.”
We followed Mona inside, the lobby making us crane our necks again to peer up at the height of the ceilings. The whole front wall was made of glass, letting in natural light, the vertical beam of the cross in the middle of where two glass panels met. Stairs rounded from both sides and merged in a Juliette balcony with doors on the other far wall for second-floor seating.
Mona led us down a hallway in the right wing, then stopped at a door. “A few of the children’s rooms have been made available for you to get ready in or for wardrobe changes or whatever you need.” She pushed open the door and stepped aside so we could enter.
A rainbow area rug lay on top of the thin wall-to-wall commercial carpet, a semi-circle of munchkin-sized chairs around that. There was a woven basket holding tambourines by an upright piano. One wall had been painted in an animal-themed mural while the rest held brightly colored posters with inspirational sayings and Bible verses in fancy fonts.
Besides having to fold my body onto a half-sized chair if I wanted to sit, the room worked. We didn’t have wardrobe changes. We weren’t doing a live show to entertain with multiple costumes, choreographed dances, smoke machines, pyrotechnics, or any of that type of stuff. Not that there was anything wrong with a single one of those things—they just weren’t who we were. Our songs weren’t about entertainment so much as they were edification and glorification of our audience of One.
Mona showed us a similar room that she said was for the women in our group. Next, she led us to a door near the back. It opened up to a vestibule, the stage visible from the side.
“If you want to get a feel for the platform, go right ahead.” Mona gestured for us to exit the wings and walk onto the podium.
Dave and Jimmy passed me, their feet taking them forward while their necks craned around so they could absorb the experience from every angle all at once. Tricia silently mouthedwowas her eyes widened. Even from my vantage point I could see the sanctuary resembled more of an auditorium. Up until now, we’d played mostly for local churches of varying sizes. This was by far the biggest venue we’d ever performed in.
Betsy stood beside me in the vestibule. I looked down at her. “Coming?”
She stubbornly shook her head. “I’m good right here.”
“You know you’re going to walk on that stage eventually.” I gave her a good-natured nudge with my elbow.
Her eyes flashed, and she poked me in the chest. “Listen here, Asher North. I am—”
“To set up the sound equipment,” I interrupted with my lips tingling. I wanted to grin but instead adopted an innocent look. “What did you think I meant?”
She scowled but didn’t answer. Instead, she marched onto the shining pine platform. I followed, my silent chuckles rumbling in my chest. Her foot suddenly skated away from her like a cute little rebellious penguin on the ice, and she pitched forward. In one swift move, I was at her side and cupping her elbow, lending her my strength to steady herself.
Her chin lifted at the same time I tilted mine down. At this proximity and this angle, our lips were only a breath apart. I meant to ask if she was okay, but the words lodged in the lump in my throat. Her veil of indifference slipped, and her gaze darted down to my mouth. I stood completely still, not even daring to breathe. I willed her to see me for me and not through the lens of her prejudice. To see that I could be trusted. That something between us could be beautiful if she’d only let herself be open to the possibility.
I’d promised myself I’d be patient. That I’d prove myself to Betsy. So, one by one, I reluctantly peeled my fingers away from her skin and dropped my hand. I took a step away from her. Then another, my eyes locked on hers, hoping she’d see the promise in them.
When I made to pivot, my foot slid out from under me, the floor as slick as a freshly greased pig. My arms windmilled, but my fingers only grasped the air. Gravity reached out and snatched me, cackling with laughter as I fell like a redwood in the forest, landing on my side.
My eyes squeezed shut as pain radiated from my elbow. I lay on my back and waited for the sharp edges to dull.
“Are you dead, man?” Dave’s horrible Jamaican accent came from above me. Last year, right before the winter Olympics, we’d watchedCool Runningsstarring John Candy and Doug E. Doug to celebrate the fact Jamaica had another bobsled team competing after thirty-four years.
“Yeah, man.” I did my best Sanka impression, but my accent was just as bad as Dave’s.
I blinked open my eyes, and a ring of faces stared down at me. Tricia looked genuinely concerned while the trio of guys appeared to be barely containing their laughter. Betsy…well, Betsy was shaking her head and clucking her tongue, her lips dramatically pushed out in a condescending pout.
“Pobrecito,” she cooed as if consoling a child who’d just gotten a boo-boo.
