The spirits of great jazz legends roam these streets, keeping my own ghosts company.
Every city I visit, I usually sneak out, ditch security, and try to be “normal” for a few hours. That day was no different. Dressed in a baseball cap and aviator sunglasses, I braved the crowds of the music festival. It’s not hard to blend in with that big of a crowd. I wasn’t there to see any of the big-name artists. I wanted to check out the local scene.
Ironically, it was the gospel tent that drew me in. The fact that it was a Sunday wasn’t lost on me. That was the closest I’d gotten to church in years. There isn’t enough holy water in the universe to cleanse my soul of its sins.
From the back of the tent, I listened to the soulful sounds belting through the crowd. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. That’s when you know a song is right. This is where music started—hymns. This is what music is meant to do—move you.
The dude singing looked like he was older than Methuselah, but you wouldn’t know it from his voice or the way his body glided across the stage, looking like he had no bones. I don’t have that gift. I can play almost any instrument, my voice deep and rich, but if you’re looking for an artist that can dance, you’re better off in the gospel tent than a Ryder Merrick concert.
I could’ve stood there all day. The music, the performance, the stuff of legends. Sometimes it baffles me how talent like this remains hidden in a tent. The guy was taking everyone to church. But then the skies opened up and thunder rolled, forcing everyone spread across the huge outdoor fields to take refuge in the few tents onsite. With everyone jamming themselves in like sardines, someone was bound to recognize me. It’s the last thing I wanted.
Just when I was going to sneak away, I heard her. She had about half a foot in the tent, but no one was making room for her. I looked around, expecting someone to offer her some help or a seat, but no one did. Seeing her struggling for shelter, I reached over, grabbed her elbow, and pulled her inside to the safety of my corner of the tent. I got a few evil glares from people reluctant to surrender any more space, but I didn’t care. It was a tight squeeze, her body pressed up against mine.
“Thank you,” she said, inching back, trying to get more room.
Her hair was soaking wet, so I couldn’t tell its color, but her eyes were a bright blue. Goosebumps covered her skin and mud splattered her legs and shoes. Her cut-off jean shorts and tank top hugged the curves of her petite body. Not even my sunglasses could hide the way my eyes were sliding over her.
I couldn’t help the grin on my face when I saw she’d covered her plate of food with a sack while she got drenched.
“I’ve got priorities,” she said, blushing like maybe she regretted saving her food. “Crawfish Monica takes precedence over my hair.”
“What’s Crawfish Monica?” I asked.
Her blue eyes grew huge, and she ripped off the sack covering her plate. “Only the best food at the fest, or so I’m told.”
“First time here?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “You?”
“First time,” I said.
“My roommate had an extra ticket. She wanted to see some country act. Merrick something or another.”
I tried to keep my face neutral. It wasn’t often I talked to people that didn’t know who I was. Normally, when I sneak away, I keep to myself. “You don’t like country music?” I asked.
She put on her best country twang. “Crying in my beer because my woman is gone, and she took my horse with her music? Nope.”
I laughed, some truth to what she said. “I see your point.”
Someone bumped her, pushing her into my chest. On instinct, my arm slid around her waist. “Um, sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be,” I said, releasing her.
She smiled, revealing two huge dimples. She was a country song if I’ve ever seen one—those cutoff shorts, tight little body, and that sweet smile. That smile—that was all it took to reel me in. Funny thing is, I don’t think she had a clue what she was doing to me.
“I’m Kailey,” she said.
“Ry . . . Ryan,” I said, at least truthful about the first syllable, and damning my parents for giving me such a recognizable name.
The crowd shifted again, pushing her tighter to me. Her pale skin blushed a bright pink. No matter how much I was enjoying having her pressed up against me, I knew she wasn’t comfortable.
“Everyone’s hiding from the rain,” I said. “I bet that leaves the food lines pretty short. Want to show me where I can get some of that?” I nodded toward her plate. “That is, if you don’t mind a little rain.”
“I’m already wet,” she said with a smile, then her eyes grew huge. “I meant . . .”
Unable to control my chuckle, I held out my hand to her, leading her into the storm. When water pelted my sunglasses, I took them off, thankful when she still didn’t recognize me.
For the next hour, I was just a guy hanging out with a beautiful woman. We pretty much had the place to ourselves, walking from food tent to food tent. She showed me all the food must-eats, and I bought them all for her.
Between bites and dodging raindrops and puddles, we talked, neither of us caring about the rain, the mud, or anything other than the person in front of us. She was finishing up her master’s degree in a few weeks and currently looking for a job. She had a few interviews, but nothing firm yet. Her parents, both college professors, live in California. Her older sister is married and lives in Southern California. It was all normal, more normal than I’d had in a long time.
I told her I lived in California, too. She couldn’t believe it. When she asked what I did for a living, I said I was a writer, which wasn’t a total lie. I write my own songs.
There was a moment when the thunder roared, but instead of running for shelter, she nearly jumped into my arms looking for safety. It was pure instinct. At that point, she reached up and took off my hat, the last piece of my disguise, so I was no longer hiding from the world.
She placed it on top of her head, teasing me. I pulled her closer, lifting her in the air, and when I leaned in to kiss her, she smiled.
CHAPTER THREE
Kailey
“I think he’s insane,” I whisper into my cell phone, my big sister, Addison, on the line.
I peer into my rear-view mirror, the stadium lights behind me. It’s convenient that his tour ended in L.A., since Addison and her husband live in San Diego, and I’ve been staying in their guest house since graduating. At least the drive there is pretty short.
“He said my name will be Kailey Merrick soon.”
“He asked you to marry him?” Addison asks.
“No, he didn’t ask. More like he just told me.”
“And you thought he wouldn’t remember you.”
It was the best sex of my life, but I doubt it was the best of his. After all, he’s Ryder Merrick, the country music rock star. I’m just me. I don’t sing. I don’t dance. I can’t play an instrument to save my life. I’ve never been the prettiest girl in the room. That night with Ryder was the craziest thing I’ve ever done. My normal, average life has taken a huge detour, and I’m not sure where it’s heading.