Page 90 of A Country Kind Of Love
Their voices integrate better than Peyton remembers; they complement one another. Cleo’s country harmony and acoustic instrumentation blends with Peyton’s smooth tone and highlights the interplay between their voices. There is something incredibly sexy about the way Cleo strums the guitar so effortlessly. She wants the room to fall away, the stage to disappear, the smell of fried chicken to leave her nostrils, and for both their stools and instruments to be dropped into the empty space on her bedroom floor. There Peyton can explain why things turned out the way they did and maybe even convince Cleo to stay the night—wishful thinking.
“The luckiest hand is yours in mine..”
They unpredictably play with the arrangement at the end. Peyton recalls the first time they harmonised together and how special that was. Tonight, feels the same, but the deeper emotional connection Peyton now feels makes it hard to imagine a life without Cleo on the stagebeside her.
The audience applauds, one by one the whole room elevates—a standing ovation. There’s a wolf whistle from a guy at the bar. Numerous wet eyes are quickly smothered with tissues, and a woman in the front row yells at the top of her lungs, “Incredible”.
They’re all positive responses. But––
Why did Cleo come tonight?
What does it mean?
Did Jesse bargain another one of his expensive possessions to get her here? Peyton is grateful for Cleo’s presence regardless ofthe motive.
The appreciation from the crowd finally draws to a close. Cleo packs up her guitar and shuffles by Peyton. She places a hand at the base of Peyton’s back, causing her to freeze in place. The light touch affects her posture. She doesn’t know whether to relax into the gesture or remain rigidand dubious.
“You sounded amazing, congratulations,” Cleo says sincerely.
“Thank you.” Peyton responds, but Cleo doesn’t hang around, she makes her way over to Jesse. Peyton observes the exchange from her position at the side of the stage. There’s a brief hug, and a friendly exchange of words.
Cleo strides towards the exit. She takes one look back at Peyton, but the look of adoration she longs to see is instead one of anguish. Her brow is furrowed, and her eyes are screwed tightly in place like she’s in physical pain. Peyton wants to run to her; she wants to yell at the top of her lungs that she’s in love with her, but that would be too theatrical, and even more distressing if the feelings are no longer mutual.
But—she turnedup tonight.
That has to mean something.
?
“Before you say anything I can explain.” Jesse holds his hands up in surrender. His white T-shirt is untucked from his trousers; it’s a consequence of his unwavering support. He stood and clapped aggressively above his head after every song. During the last chorus of “The Luckiest Hand”, Peyton hit a high note even she wasn’t sure she was capable of, and Jesse’s outrageously excessive reaction sparked the energyin the room.
She slams into him with force and wraps her arms around his torso. She can feel her heart as it thrashes against Jesse’s chest. She takes a moment to breathe. When she steps back she instinctively whacks himon the arm.
“There we go; that’s the reaction I was expecting.” Jesse grimaces.
“What the hell? You can’t just spring something likethat on me.”
“I know. I wasn’t sure if she would come, so I didn’t want to cause you any unnecessary stress. I know it was a bad judgmentcall...”
“No...” Peyton stops him mid-flow.
“No?” Jesse says, confused.
“It wasn’ta bad call.”
“Oh.”
“I hate you for not telling me, but you saved my ass up there. If Cleo hadn’t shown up when she did, I’d have run from the stage crying and never been able to show my face in the Bluebird again.” She rubs at her neck. There is a sense of relief that it’s over, but the last of the adrenaline rush has her wishing she could do it all over again—Or at least the part with Cleo.
“You killed it regardless of Cleo. I wanted to make it special for you. I know you don’t envision that song any other way, so I did what I had to.” Jesse shrugs.
“And what was that?” Peyton asks. A woman approaches mid-conversation and congratulates her. The small gesture is well received. “Did you trade another guitar?”
“God no! You’re worth one expensive guitar but not two,”Jesse jokes.
“Charming.” Peyton scoffs. Her eyes flicker from Jesse to the door and back.
“She’s not coming back. She has a gig downtown tonight; that’s why she came bursting in all heroic and soaking wet.”
