Country: a novel Part 3

She hadn't come to see the opening band, since he had told her to come at eleven, and a few minutes later the theater darkened, and his band started playing, and a moment later the man she had met on the hiking trail exploded onto the stage with one of his most famous songs. The audience loved him. He played everyone's favorite country music and after a while, sat down on a high stool and played some ballads, as Stephanie watched him, mesmerized. They cheered and screamed at the end of the show, and he played two more songs, and looked straight down at her with a broad smile before he left the stage. She hadn't been sure until then, but he had seen her. And as soon as the curtain came down, an usher came to her and told her that Mr. Taylor was expecting her backstage. She felt shy about going to see him, now that she knew who he was, but she felt that she ought to thank him for the tickets.

Feeling nervous about it, she followed the usher to a door at the side of the stage. He used a code to open it, and a moment later she was in a long dark hallway and walking up a flight of stairs, until she found herself standing at the back of the stage, with all the instruments and sound equipment and the roadies and technicians packing up for the night. The usher led her past them, into another hallway where all the dressing rooms were. He knocked on a door, and suddenly she was in his dressing room, surrounded by people. Chase was damp with sweat in the red plaid s.h.i.+rt he'd worn on stage, and was happy to see her.

"I'm so glad you came," he said with a broad grin. "I hope you liked it." He seemed shy again as he said it.

"I loved it!" Stephanie said honestly, beaming at him. "You were fantastic. I felt like a total idiot when I saw your name on the tickets after you drove away. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you today. I just wasn't expecting to meet a major music star on the hiking trail."

"I like that better," he said modestly, and then turned to introduce her to a beautiful, very young blond girl standing right behind him. Stephanie saw that she was one of his backup singers. She instantly a.s.sumed she was his girlfriend. She had a lush figure but a childlike appearance, and appeared about eighteen years old. "This is my protegee, Sandy." She smiled at Stephanie and looked even younger when she did. "One day she's going to be a big star. We're grooming her for that." He was proud as he said it, and Stephanie could guess that "protegee" was another word for girlfriend, like "niece." He was about thirty years older than she was, but Stephanie wasn't surprised. It was the nature of his business and of men who were as successful as he was. At least he had an excuse for it, more than men like Fred, who just liked young girls because they were s.e.xy. The girl gazed adoringly at Chase when he said it, and then she walked away.

There were at least a dozen other people in his dressing room while he talked to Stephanie, and she recognized most of them as his band. There were the six musicians who accompanied him and two female backup singers, Sandy and another woman, Delilah, who was at least ten years older than she was, and both had great voices. The show really had been fabulous, and Stephanie was vastly impressed, particularly by Chase. And she liked his simple, natural style, which went straight to the heart. His lyrics were good, the music he composed was excellent, and his voice could rip your heart out. He had an enormous talent, and it was impressive seeing him live on stage. It had been very exciting and she was glad she'd stayed to see it, no matter how unusual for her.

"Will you come out to dinner with us?" he asked her a few minutes later. "I warn you, this crowd can't stomach decent food. They all grew up on grits and corn pone. They won't eat anywhere but a diner, but there's a halfway decent one not far off the Strip. Come with us," he said warmly, and she hesitated. She didn't want to impose on him, but the invitation was very appealing. They seemed like a good group and were all joking with one another and teasing Chase. They all thought the show had gone well and were pleased, and were friendly to Stephanie when Chase introduced her.

He turned to her with a quizzical expression. "Do you have a nickname?"

"No." She shook her head.

"Would Stevie work for you?" She laughed at the suggestion, and had to admit that in this group Stevie sounded more apt than Stephanie.

"I'll take it." She smiled at him.

"Good. I'll take a quick shower and then we'll head for dinner." And then he turned to Sandy, who was talking to one of the musicians. "You coming, Squirt?" She nodded with a lopsided grin. "What about Bobby Joe?"

"He's coming too. He's in the casino. I'll go and get him." Chase rolled his eyes as she said it.

"The least he could do is watch our show. Just because he's in the opening act doesn't mean he can spend the night in the casino." He gave Stephanie an exasperated look, and disappeared into his bathroom to shower. He emerged ten minutes later with wet hair, in a tank top like the one he'd been wearing earlier that day, with a blue plaid s.h.i.+rt over his shoulder, ripped jeans, and the battered black lizard cowboy boots he'd worn on stage. He looked every bit the rock star he was, now that she'd seen him on stage.

All the musicians came with them when they left, and hotel security was thick around them all the way to the bus, as everyone got on board. And Stephanie was surprised by the luxury she saw inside. It was in good taste, and was decorated almost like a yacht, with dark wood-paneled walls, and lush brown leather upholstery, thick carpeting, some nice paintings, and sleek modern furniture, some of it covered in alligator, that he had had made for the bus. There was a full kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom with a king-size bed where he could rest. He preferred the bus to any other mode of travel, for privacy and comfort. He could do whatever he wanted on it. There was even a piano.

Chase glanced around when they got on the bus, and asked where Sandy was. Delilah told him she had gone to the casino to find Bobby Joe. Delilah was the other singer, she was in her thirties, and she didn't spend much time with Sandy away from work. She was married and had kids.

"Christ, I feel like a kindergarten teacher half the time with those two," Chase complained good-naturedly, and everyone laughed as he said it. Sandy and a lanky young boy covered in tattoos with bright red hair came running up to the bus minutes later.

"Sorry, he was winning," Sandy said apologetically to Chase, as Bobby Joe let himself down on the couch next to Stephanie and stretched out his long legs. He had a c.o.c.ky look about him, and one could sense that he both admired Chase and was jealous of him. He wanted to be him one day, and until then had to content himself with being an opening act. He was about twenty years old, and his accent was even heavier than Chase's and Sandy's. He told Stephanie he was from Mississippi, and had been opening for Chase for about a year, but had played with another band before that. They all talked about the show that night and some things they wanted to change in rehearsal the next day, and by the time they got to the diner, everyone was calling her Stevie, and acting as though they knew her. They were an easy, congenial group, and it was obvious that they all adored Chase, except for the somewhat arrogant Bobby Joe, whom Sandy circled like a shepherd dog. He was arrogant with her too, and then kissed her long and hard in front of Chase, which shocked Stephanie, thinking she was Chase's girlfriend.

"Okay, Bobby, enough, don't wear yourself out before dinner," Chase said as they filed past him, on the way off the bus to eat, and the two young people brought up the rear. Stephanie was intrigued by Chase's casual reaction. He was a h.e.l.l of a good sport, or very self-confident if she was his girlfriend. She couldn't help asking him about it, as they walked into the diner and Charlie the drummer asked for three booths. The people at the restaurant all knew Chase and were happy to see him back. They gave him three booths in the rear, where he was less likely to be bothered, although his fans always found him.

"That doesn't bother you?" Stephanie asked him as she slid into the booth next to him, after he patted the seat beside him to invite her to sit next to him since she was his guest.

"What?" He looked blank.

"Bobby Joe and Sandy."

"Not unless he knocks her up and she can't work for the next year, and gets saddled with a baby. If he does that, I'll kill him. He's twenty-five years old and hopefully he knows better. She's just a baby, and she's crazy about him. But she's eighteen, and there's nothing I can do. And she's got to have some fun," he said reasonably. "Her daddy died three years ago, and left her to me when she was fifteen. I'm her guardian. Her mama died when she was two, so I'm all she's got. Thank G.o.d she can sing, or I wouldn't know what to do with her. But I can tell you, it's a h.e.l.l of a responsibility raising someone else's kid. I figure that if I get her to twenty-one, she's on her own after that. Until then, she answers to me." He looked serious as he said it, and Stephanie grinned broadly. "I'm serious. It's not easy. Especially raising girls."

"I know. I have two of my own. And a son," Stephanie said just as seriously, and then smiled again. "I thought she was your girlfriend, so I thought Bobby Joe was being pretty gutsy kissing her right in front of you." Chase burst out laughing when she said it.

"Are you kidding? You think I'm a child molester? She may be eighteen on her driver's license, but she's fourteen in her head, or twelve sometimes, or two. I don't go out with women young enough to be my daughter, or granddaughter in this case, by Tennessee standards. I'm forty-eight years old, and the last thing I need is an eighteen-year-old in my bed. That would kill me for sure." He was still chuckling, and Stephanie looked amused too. "She's a pretty girl, but that's just a bigger headache, especially at her age. I lived with a woman for fourteen years, and we broke up two years ago. As she put it, our careers weren't compatible. It's hard to keep two people together in this business." Stephanie vaguely remembered that he had been involved with some equally famous country music singer, and they had recorded several alb.u.ms together. She didn't remember the breakup. "I married my high school sweetheart at seventeen, and we had a baby a year later. My son is thirty years old and smart enough not to go into this business. He runs a construction company in Memphis. His mama and I divorced when he was two years old. She got married again and had a bunch of kids. I never did. I got busy with my career and stayed that way. It suits me better than marriage, and I've kind of taken a break for the past two years since Tamra and I broke up. That got a little heavy. She actually sued me over some of our music together. I don't need the headache."

"So how do you manage to stay so normal?" Stephanie asked him honestly after they ordered burgers and fries. The two musicians sharing the booth with them were arguing about a change in the arrangement of the second song of the show, and they were paying no attention to Stephanie and Chase.

"I don't know. I don't like it when people get all full of themselves. Besides, you might be a star one minute, and nothing the next. I figure keeping things simple is better. Tamra was always the big star-I just tagged along." But the truth was, he was the bigger star, and always had been, and her career had tanked after she left him. Stephanie was impressed with his modesty and genuine, una.s.suming ways. After that they joined in the conversation with the two musicians, and Chase settled the argument about the arrangement. He liked it the way it was. "Don't fix what ain't broke," he reminded them, which was a saying she had often used too. The enemy of good is better.

The whole group spent an hour at the diner and then went back to the bus, and when they arrived at the hotel, Chase walked her across the lobby to the elevator. She didn't invite him to come up, and he didn't suggest a drink at the bar. She could see that he was tired. They had worked hard during their show.

"So what are you doing tomorrow?" he asked with a gentle smile. "Driving back to San Francisco?" She nodded. She had had a great time that night, and she liked him. He seemed like a good man. She liked his values and his reactions, and his philosophies about life. Play fair, be honest, don't screw over the other guy, work hard. It all made sense.

"I should get back," she said, although she wasn't sure why she said it.

"To what?" he asked her honestly. After talking to her, he knew that she had no kids at home, no job, no real reason to go home. "Why don't you stay another day? We're only playing here for three days, and then we're going back to Nashville. Why don't we drive out in the desert tomorrow? It's beautiful. I'll show you the sights. I don't have to be at rehearsal until six." He made the band work hard, which he said kept them all good, and him too. "What about it?" His eyes pleaded with her, and she hesitated and then nodded. Why not? She was enjoying herself. She didn't feel like he was pursuing her as a woman, just as a friend, which was nice. There was no pressure on her.

"Okay. What the h.e.l.l? I've come this far, I might as well stay another day." She said it as much to herself as him.

"That's my girl, Stevie. You know what they say. Carpe diem. Seize the day. We only get one day at a time-we have to make the best of it. You never know what's going to happen tomorrow. Today is all we've got." She had learned that lesson with what happened to Bill. And she knew the expression. It was Latin. Carpe diem. She just never thought it applied to her. It never had before. "I'll call you around ten. We'll figure out something to do. I've got a car here-we don't have to take the bus." It sounded good to her. And like fun. She was going to spend the day with Chase Taylor, just hanging out, just as she had done tonight. Who would have thought that the long-haired, tattooed guy she had met on the hiking trail at the Grand Canyon would turn out to be a country music star, and they'd make friends? He was right in what he said. Carpe diem. Seize the day.

Chapter 8.

When Chase picked her up at ten-thirty the next morning, he had a plan. He waited for her in a Mercedes at a side door of the hotel where no one would see him, and he told her about the Moapa River Reservation of Paiute Indians he wanted to take her to, thirty miles away. "It was a land grant of two million acres originally. Now it's down to a thousand," he explained to her. "There's not much there. They run a casino and a few stores, but there's a medicine man I met there, at the casino. He's a very spiritual person. I thought you might like to meet him," Chase said as they drove north on Interstate 15. It was in the desert, and he said he had been there before. When they got there, they walked around. It was a bleak place, with imposing sandstone cliffs. Chase knew where to find the medicine man at his small, dilapidated house just outside town. Chase introduced him to Stephanie, and the medicine man told her that she had far to go on a new path.

"Did you tell him that?" Stephanie asked Chase suspiciously, and he swore he hadn't. The medicine man told her then to open her eyes so she would see the path and to let go of her old ways and life. And he told Chase that he had to open his heart, that it had been closed for a long time, maybe since he was a boy. They talked for a while. Chase thanked him and slipped bills into his hand as they left.

"That's pretty scary," Stephanie commented as they drove away. There was something very profound and spiritual about the man, and Chase said he had been impressed by him before. Chase liked to meet unusual people off the beaten path.

"Medicine men are very special people," he confirmed.

"Was what he said about you true? That your heart has been closed."

"Pretty much," Chase confessed easily as he drove with his eyes on the road. "Except to music. I don't think I've really loved anybody since the girl I married at seventeen. I loved Tamra, but it was complicated, and it was always more about our careers than the relations.h.i.+p. The relations.h.i.+p just came out of that. She's a hard woman, and she's all about herself. This business is like that, everyone is out for themselves, and they don't care who they screw over to get where they want. It destroys people's souls." But she had a strong sense that his was intact.

"So why are you different?" she asked as they drove back toward Las Vegas.

"Maybe I don't care as much about where I'm going. I've been lucky. I love what I do, but not enough to kill someone over it or give up who I am. I'm not willing to make the sacrifices some people are. I'm willing to work my a.s.s off, not sell my soul." He had made the right choices and had remained whole. "What about you? What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know. I've never had choices before. I was on a path I thought I was going to be on forever. I forgot the kids would grow up. I thought I was married forever. It never dawned on me that he might die, at least not until we were very old."

"Were you happy with him?" Chase was curious about her.

"I used to be. At first. And then I think we kind of lost each other in the shuffle. I was busy with the kids, he was focused on his career. He worked too much. We were always tired by the time we got together. I think the excitement kind of went out of it for both of us. We were just used to each other and knew what we had to do." She took a breath then. "And then he had an affair. It kind of blew what was left to bits, and maybe there wasn't much left even before the affair." She had never said that out loud before, not even to Bill. "I never wanted to face that when he was alive, but maybe it was true. We split up for a couple of months when I found out about it. She was married too. She went back to her husband, he came back to me, and that was it, but it was never the same again. That was seven years ago. I never realized how empty our marriage was till then. The excitement and pa.s.sion in our lives died a long time ago. Maybe that's why he had the affair-maybe he was just trying to feel alive again. Maybe we should have gotten divorced then, but I didn't want that for our kids. So we stayed together. I don't think we were ever happy with each other after that. There were okay days, but never great ones. There was no magic. Our relations.h.i.+p was like a job. I never realized that till he was gone." She had been thinking about all of it since Bill's death.

"That's why I never got married again," Chase said softly. "I never wanted to settle for 'good enough.' I wanted 'great' or nothing. I never fell in love again. I guess that's what the medicine man meant. But it's hard to find someone to fall in love with when you're in this business. So many big egos, and people who want to use you to get where they want. There's not a lot of heart, except in the music. Sometimes the people in it just suck." She laughed at what he said and suspected it was true. And it was hard for someone like him, he was such a big star, and everyone wanted something from him, or to use him. She said it, and he agreed. "You get used to it after a while. I don't take it personally. But I don't fall for them either. I know better now. I used to be nave. I've gotten smarter with age. You have to in this business, and in life. Or you get screwed over every time." It was an interesting perspective. "But what's happening to you is like being born again. You can wipe the slate clean. You have a million opportunities to start a new life." She nodded, thinking about it, and knew it was true.

"I don't know," she said sadly. "And what do I do? I want a job, but I don't know what I can do. I haven't worked in years, and I don't have a talent like you."

"What are you good at? What do you like to do?"

"I don't know...being a wife and mother. Entertaining clients. Folding laundry. Making Halloween costumes. I like to sing, but I'm not talented. I used to like to write poetry and short stories, but what would I do with that? I'm doing volunteer work at a homeless shelter for kids right now. The people who run it are a little disorganized, so I never know when they'll need me, which makes it hard to plan. But I like it. The kids really need help. Unlike my own, who really don't need me anymore."

"They probably need you more than you think. And if they don't, it means you did a good job." He was practical and down to earth above all else.

"I need them more than they need me. And they're being difficult right now. Their father hardly paid any attention to them, but as soon as he died, they decided he was a saint."

"They'll get over that. It's probably part of the grieving process for them."

"Well, it's d.a.m.n hard to listen to, I can tell you. I don't mind them thinking he was a nice guy, I always fostered that and made him look like a hero to them. But now everything I did, they attribute to him, and my girls act as though they're p.i.s.sed that he's dead and I'm alive." She was totally comfortable talking to him and admitting things she might not have to someone else.

"You're the safe one, and they're probably angry that he died."

"I was kind of mad at him myself until now," she admitted. "I stuck it out. I paid my dues. I lived through the affair, I stayed with him, and then he goes and dies, and now I wind up alone for the rest of my life. Who's going to be there when I get old or if I get sick, or be there to walk our daughters down the aisle? He just bailed on all of it, and now I'm stuck there in an empty house. He wasn't there much, but I knew he'd come home at night. Now no one comes home. I'm there alone." She didn't want to sound pathetic, but it was true.

"It seems like he wasn't really there even when he did come home," Chase said sensibly. "And you're not going to be alone for the rest of your life. Not with your looks." He smiled at her. "You're still a young woman. h.e.l.l, you're my age." They both laughed. "You're just alone for now. And there are a lot of things you can do-get a job, move to a different city, meet new people. The whole world is open to you. It's what the medicine man said, you have to open your eyes to new paths. It appears that you had exhausted the old ones anyway. With all due respect, it sounds like your life with your husband was over. Neither of you wanted to acknowledge it, but it was. You just need some time to figure it out." She knew that what he said was right, although it scared her.

"Maybe I'll get a job as a dealer in Las Vegas," she said with a rueful smile.

"Or a singer in a country band. How good's your voice?" He was teasing her and she laughed.

"Not good enough." They changed the subject to Sandy then, and Stephanie commented on how great her voice was. She had a huge talent, like him. And he was a hard taskmaster, teaching her the ropes. He sounded a little guilty as he said it.

"The poor kid needs a mother more than she needs a voice coach. She's been dragging around backstage since she was in diapers. Once her mother died, her father took her everywhere with him-on tour, to rehearsal-and now I do the same. She grew up with a guitar and a microphone in her hands. But it's paying off. I think she'll make it big one day. It's kind of exciting to see. And she's a sweet girl. I try to toughen her up a little. She's always falling for some kid like Bobby Joe. He doesn't give a d.a.m.n about her, she's just convenient for him on the road, and he sees her as a way of being connected to me. But if he's bad to her, I'll kick him out so fast, his head will spin. He's just a punk, and not as talented as he thinks. He won't last long in this business. She will. She's the real thing. He's just a flash in the pan, selling s.e.x appeal and a second-rate voice. She's pure gold. She's a platinum record waiting to happen, and it will if I have anything to do with it." He took his role in her life seriously, as her protector, teacher, and mentor, and Stephanie was impressed. It was how she felt about her kids. And Sandy wasn't even his. She had just been his ward since she was fifteen.

They stopped for a late lunch at a restaurant he knew in the desert, instead of somewhere in the city where he would be hounded. People came up to ask him for autographs even in the diner, and he was nice about it. But he wanted private time with her. He enjoyed their conversation, and everything she had to say. And she liked talking to him too. Their ideas were similar on many subjects, even though they had come to the same conclusions in different ways. And he had far more worldly experience than she did. Compared to him, she had lived a sheltered life. He had been in the often cutthroat front lines of the music world for many years, but he was neither bitter nor spoiled by it. He had remained true to himself. Meeting him and talking to him was a remarkable experience. And she admired how humble he was.

It was five o'clock by the time he took her back to the hotel. And he had rehearsal in an hour. He said he was going to swim and work out before that. And she wanted to shop some more. She had spotted some other stores she wanted to explore. The temptations in Vegas were limitless, for both shoppers and gamblers, and she hadn't bought new clothes in a long time. Jean filled the void in her life by shopping constantly, Stephanie was wearing five-year-old clothes and never bought new ones. The stores in Las Vegas had caught her eye.

"Thank you for a fantastic day," she said with a warm smile.

"I guess yesterday was my lucky day," he said, smiling at her. "I went to the Canyon to clear my head, and look who I met."

"I think you have that reversed," she said, touched by what he said.

"Do you want to come by rehearsal? We'll just go through some stuff for a couple of hours. If you'd like, you're welcome to hang around." She said she might, and he left her in the lobby of the hotel. She went back to her room for a few minutes to wash her face and relax and then went back out again to look around. And an hour into their rehearsal, she dropped by to see them. She had given up her plan of leaving that night, and was driving back to San Francisco the next day. She had already called the shelter to let them know that she wouldn't be in, and they told her they didn't need her for another two weeks.

Their rehearsal was in full swing when she slipped in. Chase was doing one of his ballads, and she loved listening to him. Sandy came off the stage and sat down next to her and squeezed her hand, as Stephanie remembered all he'd said about her, and how much she needed a woman in her life. She looked like a little kid, in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt with a ponytail and no makeup.

"What did you do today?" Sandy whispered with wide eyes, as they sat together in the darkened room, listening to Chase.

"I just went shopping," Stephanie said, looking guilty, and showed her a pair of flats she'd bought at Marc Jacobs, with mouse faces on them. Sandy giggled silently and said how cute they were. "What size do you wear? I can get you a pair tomorrow." Sandy looked surprised and said she wore an eight, the same as both of Stephanie's girls.

Sandy had to go on stage after that, and Stephanie stayed for a while. Chase came down during a break while they were adjusting the sound and gave her a hug. After two days, and their lengthy conversations, he felt like a friend. And then she left, and went to Marc Jacobs to get the shoes for Sandy and went back to her room. Chase called her when they were through.

"Are you coming tonight?" He sounded worried that she might not.

"Of course." It was why she had stayed.

"Do you want to be backstage or have a seat?"

"Backstage might be more fun." It was something new. Her life was new these days, or had been since she came to Vegas and met him.

"You can wait in my dressing room if you get bored," he offered.

"There is nothing boring about your show, Chase. I'll be there the whole time." She smiled as she said it. She was becoming an avid fan.

"Why don't you come half an hour early? You can sit in my dressing room with me before I go on. Come to think of it, come at ten. We can have dinner after, if you don't mind waiting that long." It was the life he led, of endless nights and midnight dinners, rehearsals, and waiting around all day in hotel rooms. It was better than it used to be when he was young, and they went on ten-week road tours with him and the entire band in a van, driving from town to town, day after day, performing all night, to filthy, disgusting venues, and dressing rooms that hadn't been cleaned in years. Now he was a star, but he had earned it the hard way and paid his dues.

Jean called her that night again when she was getting dressed and wanted to know what was going on and when she was coming home, and had she slept with Chase Taylor yet.

"Stop that. We're just friends. He's a really decent guy. I'm just having fun, hanging out with the band." She felt like a teenager as she said it, and Jean laughed. "I'm driving back tomorrow. I'll see you on Friday for lunch."

"I can't wait." Jean felt like her partner in crime.

Stephanie still hadn't heard from her kids in several days, which was typical, and no one knew where she was except Jean. She wouldn't have told them anyway. They would have thought she'd lost her mind.

Stephanie showed up at Chase's dressing room that night at ten, carrying a shopping bag. He was stretched out on the couch with his long legs, reading the paper, and he stood up as soon as she walked in. He kissed her on the cheek and offered her a drink, but she was happy to just sit there and relax with him. It felt good to be a part of it, and she was surprisingly comfortable with him, like an old friend. Several members of the band came in to ask him about various technical details, and Sandy walked in and was happy to see her there.

"Hi, Stevie. What are you doing here?" She looked surprised and pleased.

"Hanging out," she said, laughing at her words. As she said it, Stephanie handed her the bag. Sandy reached into it with a puzzled look, and found the mouse shoes in her size. She gave a squeal of delight and threw her arms around her benefactor's neck. She tried them on and they fit perfectly, as Chase watched the scene looking touched. After she left, Chase turned to Stephanie.

"That was sweet of you to do. I never do things like that for her, and I should. I just give her money and tell her to go shop. That's what I meant. She's starving for a woman in her life. Delilah takes her out shopping sometimes for clothes to wear on stage. Thanks, Stevie. I really appreciate it."

"I enjoyed it, and it's a small thing to do." She made little gestures like that every day for her kids when they were around, and sent them small gifts when she found something she knew they'd love. She was good at it, the motherly duties she enjoyed for so long, and missed so much now.

He chatted easily with her before the show, and then took her backstage with him before he went on. He found a chair for her, in the wings, and Sandy blew her a kiss as she flew by on her way to take her place on stage. The show was even better than it had been the night before. She couldn't see Chase except on a monitor, but she could hear him. She was starting to know some of his songs.

She told him how good it had been when he walked back to her after the show, and he smiled and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Come on, let's get out of here. I'm starving, let's go eat." He let the band go to dinner on their own and took her to a small restaurant on the edge of town with Cajun food and chicken wings and ribs. They ate with their fingers, and it was delicious. He had a hearty appet.i.te, and was always hungry after a show. They sat there eating and talking until almost three a.m., and then he drove her back to the hotel.

"Can I talk you into staying for our last night? We're leaving on Friday. You could go back to San Francisco then."

"Now I really am a groupie," she said, laughing, but she was easy to convince this time. She was enjoying herself too much to leave, and he was pleased. He walked across the lobby with her, with his long easy stride. People noticed him immediately and wondered who the woman was with him. He kissed her quickly on the cheek at the elevator and disappeared, before anyone could start asking for autographs. They were all drunks at that hour, and he wasn't in the mood. He called her as soon as she got to her room. And she was tired too. It had been a long, busy day.

"Sorry I ditched you, Stevie. I didn't want to deal with fans." She understood, and she lay down on the bed with the phone.

"It's fine. I had a great time tonight. San Francisco is going to be even more miserable now. What am I going to do at night?"

"Come to Nashville, then. I can show you around. We're recording next week, and you can sit in the studio with us. And we're playing a concert that weekend. Nashville is an amazing place. You can be our good luck charm." He felt as though she already was, and everybody liked her.

"I'm not sure that's a proper job. It might be a little hard to explain."

"Then don't explain it. Just come."