2 Maid in the Shade (32 page)

“Mona and I will do “Redneck Woman” Lucy replied promptly.

“Noooo, you will not. Every time they do Karaoke about ten girls do that song like it’s the Southern Anthem, pick another.”

“I know the words to it
and so does Mona. Right Mona? I’ll just ask the manager not to allow any repeats.”

“So you’re leaving me out in the cold
?” I laughed, “Suits me, I am not doing a song by myself.”

“How come Lucy gets to pick the song
?” Mona demanded, “I got favorites too you know, I keep up.”

J
ackson peered at her doubtfully, “What you got in mind?”

M
ona said “There is a song I been hearing lately I really like. Lemme think,” her forehead furrowed, “I can’t remember who it’s by or how it goes.”

I
tried to be helpful. “Is it rock, pop, country? What's it about?”

M
ona considered carefully, "Um, Dying?”

J
ackson pulled out his Iphone and clicked on a video, "Is it this?”

“
If I Die Young" by The Band Perry began.

“You are really good at this music stuff,
” Mona said, “Why don’t we do that?”

L
ucy snickered and Mona gave them a hard stare.

“Well,”
Jackson said uneasily, “The whole point of it is about being young and dying. You’re old-” he stopped short as she gave him a baleful glare. “We are older,” Jackson said more firmly, “I think it has to be sung by someone who looks like a teenager; that’s what makes it so poignant.”

“
Okay,” Mona said, “Now my 2nd favorite, not sure if it’s a girl or a boy singing, may be country, or rock."

“If you don’t know that much you won’t be able to learn the song,”
Jackson said. “I can’t be standing ‘round here guessing songs all day. Discussing music with you is like being on a Japanese game show where there are no prizes. Tonight you sing “Redneck Woman.” You do good and next time you pick alright?”

M
ona gave a short nod and glanced over at me. “What about Gretchen? Does she get to pick for herself?”

“I’m not,” I began, as
Jackson turned and considered me carefully.
“How about “Run” and you sing it to me? That way you have to put yourself out there same as anybody but,” he sang softly “I’ll be right beside you deeaaar.”

I
snorted “Okay fine; it’s not as though I’m going to be living here forever like the rest of you.”

W
e watched Mona and Lucy do “Redneck Woman,” then I started to grab our things.

“Hang on,”
Jackson said, “we haven’t heard you do yours yet.”

“Your idea,
” I smiled, “if you don’t like it, am I off the hook?”

“No, you can sing. Not like me of course
, but you have a decent voice.”

“The world is full of decent voices,
” I laughed. “But,” I gave him a little bow, “high praise coming from you. Let’s get going.”

T
he parking lot was already filling up when we got to Bunburry’s.

“Wow,” I said
, “And in the rest of the country Karaoke Night has died a welcome and peaceful death.”

“This does seem to be a bigger
crowd than average,” Jackson confirmed.

I
scanned the lot quickly for Jared’s truck. He wasn’t there. The little knot inside me seemed to melt away along with a few inhibitions. “Show time!” I said enthusiastically, I really do love to sing.

J
ackson smiled at me “Well alright, now, alright, you want to go first?”

“No,” I said
as we walked in, “put me after the Redneck Women there if you can. It’s not like we’re going to be the only ones lining up to warble, its Karaoke Night!”

L
ucy went to say hello to the McCall boys while Mona and I grabbed a table and Jackson went to get a drink.

P
retty soon the music started and people drifted onto the stage to sing with varying degrees of success, if they could carry a tune the crowd was happy, if they couldn’t, there were plenty of friendly souls ready to jump in and sing along from the audience. It was a kindness from the crowd I hadn’t expected and I relaxed more.

I
was just watching the stage, enjoying myself when the “Redneck Woman” song came on, startling me; I hadn’t even noticed my friends head for the stage. Too many people knew that song to allow Mona and Lucy to get a chorus in edgewise and I was wishing we had picked one for me that was that so widely popular when I got up from the table and wended my way through the crowd towards Jackson. The place was packed. I had a moment of panic but relaxed when I realized not everyone was focusing on the music. There were plenty of people milling about, talking, flirting, and daring each other to get onstage. This was, after all just a bar, not the Met, I reassured myself.

S
till, I was not prepared to hear Jackson announce “Run” by Snow Patrol and that I was going to be singing next. I blushed wildly as the crowd grew silent and I stepped up on stage.

J
ackson seemed better prepared for my nerves than I realized. As the song started he took my hand and I looked at him as I began “I’ll sing it one last time for you…” then I turned toward the faceless crowd while I continued. The song resonated with me, the crowd melted away. I did my best, but thank God for Jackson, he knew where my pitch was weakest and chimed in which made it work beautifully, we got a standing ovation, and I am NOT standing ovation material. Then he announced we would be retiring from the stage for the night which was greeted with groans of disappointment. He grinned widely then sang “Well, in fact we have one more song for you, then we really have to go,” which was greeted by a round of laughter and some smart phones held high to snap photos. Jackson was compelling.

W
hen Mona and Lucy joined us up on stage we were too relaxed and confident to even miss a beat. We were in the moment. Mona and I were the bookends in the chorus with Lucy singing along with us beside Jackson. You could just feel the love for the three of them in that bar.

I
felt a little residual goodwill washing over me as well and I could look out over the faces with pleasure. The thing that made us stand out was we were all town eccentrics, and the South sure takes pride in our oddballs. We were characters ourselves, the four of us, an enjoyable source of anecdotes in this tiny town. Maybe it was the company I kept, but I realized my friends had accomplished their goal as I moved to the music and looked over the crowd. I was happy. I saw Jared, he grinned and raised his bottle to me as a salute and I almost missed a step before winking at him and continuing our routine.

W
e brought down the house and I looked at my friends, Jackson soaking it up like sunshine, Lucy accepting it as her due and Mona flushed and a little radiant. A couple of male hands were reaching for me as I began to step off the stage. I hesitated; then recognized it for what it was; a gentlemanly gesture toward a woman who had suddenly become a little more accessible.

E
veryone was raving over the real singer in our quartet. Jackson was getting mobbed as the crowd surged forward and enveloped him, including a middle aged couple who may have been his parents. The manager turned down the music so that it was obvious there would be no more karaoke until Jackson got his full accolades.

I
grabbed Lucy from behind and leaned down to hug her, “Let me guess, you were anxious to set this up so Jackson’s friends and parents would see he is incredibly talented.”

“I planned to
do something, somehow, but when you did your little choreographed routine in the kitchen this morning,” she shrugged, “what better opportunity could we have than right now? Do you think they get it?" She asked tilting her head towards Jackson’s parents.

“
Well it isn’t always easy to keep up with your myriad schemes but I’m pretty sure his family knows just how gifted he is. So I suppose the news that he wants to pursue this as a career won’t come as a completely unhappy shock.”

S
he smiled, “And you? Happiness achieved, at least for the night? By the way, “Run” was a good choice. And the Rumor dance, I guess gymnastics led to dance?”

“Yep
, so does the dance team director when she sees you can do back flips. And of course there’s the ever popular ritual of middle school—“Cotillion!” We said together.

A
s soon as Jared was in front of me, Lucy melted away. “Well, that was an unexpected pleasure.”

“I am full of unexpected pleasures,” I leered and laughed.
It had been something he said to me once.

I
looked around, “Feels like the whole town is here and a lot of the older folks. Is that Lucy’s doing too?”

He
nodded, “And you have some new fans.”

“I wasn’t aware I had any old ones.”

“Well any girl who will come out to support a friend just days after going through what you did can win my mother’s heart. Come meet them.”

“Oh Jared, m
eeting your family? How can this possibly be a good idea?”

“
Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, “she knows I’m ahhh, well; she thinks you’re sweet.”

“I have never
been, and do not ever want to be sweet. If she’s tuned into the grapevine she must know I tried to kill you twice.”

He laughed. “I never said I was her
favorite
.”

He
grabbed my hand and started leading me over to the side of the bar where his parents were presumably. I pulled my hand back.

He
leaned over and began to whisper promises into my ear. My knees went weak.

I
gulped. “Lead the way.”

J
ared’s mother Sarah was where he got his looks, his father his build. I imagined somewhere along the line they had been football player and head cheerleader. His mother had received my thank you note and was pleased I had enjoyed the quilt. She seemed to relax as we chatted, probably relieved that in spite of the stories, I appeared to be fairly normal.

M
ona appeared beside me. “There’s a fellow here wanted me to come get you, wants to ask us about Jackson I think; he already asked me what brought this on tonight. It could be good for Jackson. This guy looks like he’s here to work. Maybe he’s in show business.”

I
was impressed, “Lucy must have incredible connections then, but sure.”

M
ona pulled me toward a man in a blazer and khakis accompanied by a woman with a camera. The crowd cleared around him a little as we approached and looked at him expectantly. “They better not take our picture,” I muttered to Mona, “focus on telling them about Jackson.”

“Gotcha,” she said.
“Lord this has been fun!”

A
s soon as we drew closer the man introduced himself as Brian Kolder with the local news and the camera was raised. I held my hand up in a warning gesture and his companion began to lower it hesitantly. He named the local affiliate he was with; it seemed odd that a village karaoke night qualified as feature news anywhere, but who was I to question the rapidly changing media with their tweets and posts and constant appetite for human interest stories?

“Gretchen Gallen
?” I nodded, “And I suppose you already met Mona,” I grinned, “but Jackson is the talent here tonight, we’re just all here to support him.”

T
he locals around us were quiet, straining to hear a snippet of information they could share at the Oasis in the morning.

M
ike Kolder thrust the microphone in front of my face and gave a swift nod to his companion who raised her camera again. “We’re here with Gretchen Gallen at Bunburry’s Tavern in Bridle Springs, Gretchen, can you tell us about your connection to the Mecklenburg rapist and how it is you feel safe enough to be out tonight? Do you have reason to believe he’s in custody? We understand he recently invaded your home and something was left in the form of a threat. Can you give us more details about that? What is it you have on him and have you been one of his victims?”

M
y jaw tightened and I blinked back tears. “We’re here to celebrate our incredibly talented friend. To come here in the guise of reporting on Jackson Jones and ask about my rape is shameless. I hope your mother is alive to see how you make a living.”

“So you are confirming you were raped
?”

S
uddenly the reporter and his companion disappeared. Everyone in the room had shifted abruptly and I was insulated by layers of patrons. I could see what had to be those beefy ginger-haired Tucker twins hustling the news team out the door. Jared appeared and tried to put his arms around me but I pushed him away gently. “Where are Jackson and Lucy?”

“We’re
here; do you want us to get you to the car?”

“Definitely not,”
I leaned over and whispered to them and we made our way back to the stage. Someone grabbed Mona and pushed her up on the platform with both hands on her fanny. Lucy spoke to her in a hushed voice.