Hitting the Right Note (15 page)

JJ nodded, understanding what Cymmone was saying but not sure that she could make the same decision. After all, she didn't have a Brady in her life, giving her another option. And even if she did, singing was who she was. She couldn't give that up for a man. She shouldn't have to.

“Do you regret giving up so much?” JJ asked after a long moment. They were back in the center of Philadelphia again. They would be at the hotel soon.

Cymmone was thoughtful. “I'm not going to lie and say I don't miss being onstage as much. I do. But I don't regret my choice. I prayed about it, Brady prayed for me about it, my family prayed for me about it, and when it was time to make that decision, I was sure. And after I decided, I just felt at peace with all of it.” Cymmone bit her lip. “This business is great, JJ. And if you're singing with Deacon Hill it must mean you have an awesome voice, and if God has allowed you to get to this point it must be for a reason. Just don't lose yourself.”

JJ turned toward the window again, wondering how she would even be able to tell.

“After all, ‘what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?' ”

The verse from Mark 8:36 weighed heavily on JJ. Was she losing her soul? That sounded so extreme. But she hadn't changed that much. Had she?

The SUV stopped and JJ realized they were in front of the hotel. She turned to Cymmone. “Thank you.”

Before she could open the door, the woman stretched across and pulled her into a loose embrace. JJ couldn't remember the last time she had been hugged this often in one day.

“Take care, JJ,” Cymmone said as JJ slipped out of the vehicle. “And call me if you need to talk.”

JJ took the card the woman pressed into her palm and closed the door of the vehicle. She waved as Cymmone drove away, then turned and headed into the hotel. It was almost one o'clock. In an hour she would have to start getting ready. She wouldn't mind hearing a familiar voice before then. She pulled out her cell phone and pressed speed dial four as she headed for the stairs. It rang only once.

“Well, it's about time you called.”

JJ smiled. “Hey, Sheree. I missed you too.”

And suddenly she didn't feel as homesick anymore.

J
J ended up at the Mann Center an hour earlier than call time. Most of the setup from the night before was still out and in place, and so there was little reason for the crew to come in early. Going directly to the dressing rooms, she dropped off her bags and headed back out with her guitar. She hadn't stepped far out the door when the sound of Beethoven's
Moonlight Sonata
caught her ear. As she followed the music down the hallway, the chords became more defined and the melody clearer.

His back was to her, and she stepped quietly into the room, careful not to disturb him as he played. She also knew that piece on piano—a result of her early teenage years spent in weekly piano classes—but she couldn't have played it as smoothly as Deacon. As he gracefully played through the complicated composition, JJ watched in awe. His form was precise, his fingers confident in their accuracy, his body leaning into the music with every run and transition. When he struck the final note at the sonata's strong and vibrant end, JJ's hands came together in spontaneous applause.

“I had no idea you could play like that,” JJ said from the doorway.

Deacon turned halfway around on the piano stool, an embarrassed smile on his face. “I had no idea I had an audience.”

“You're classically trained?” JJ asked.

He nodded. “Been playing piano since I was eight. I think my mom always knew I would be a musician; she just thought it would be in the classical, not R & B genre.”

“They're both art,” JJ said.

“Not the way she tells it,” Deacon said with a grin. He nodded to the seats nearby. “Come sit. Tell me about your musical background. I'm guessing you spent a few years on a piano stool as well.”

“Oh yes,” JJ said, accepting his invitation and pulling herself up on a high stool with a low back. “Started when I was ten. Two hours every week with Mrs. Elliot. They were the best and worst days of my life.”

Deacon laughed. “Does no one have purely positive piano-teacher stories?”

“I've yet to hear one,” JJ said, pulling her guitar into her lap. “Mrs. Elliot did her best, and I did learn, but I think my true love has always been guitar. My dad taught me to play when I was thirteen. After that, you couldn't get the thing out of my hands.”

“Alright, let me see what you got,” Deacon said, getting up.

“Noooo,” JJ said, holding out a hand to stop him. “I would never pollute your ears with my piano playing. It's pedestrian at best and rusty today because I haven't touched a piano in months.”

“It can't be that bad,” Deacon said, tilting his head to the side.

JJ pursed her lips. “Trust me, it is.”

“So how can I be assured of this classical background of which you speak?” he asked, his brow crinkling in mock suspicion.

JJ laughed. “Guess you'll just have to take it on faith.”

Deacon shook his head. “I can't believe I never knew this about you before. Do you write a lot of your own stuff?”

JJ idly plucked a melody on the guitar. “I used to, but not as much now. There isn't much time when you're on tour with a major pop star.”

He smiled. “True. But don't get too caught up in all this,” he said, waving a hand around. “At the end of the day, it's really about the music. That's what got us all here in the first place, right?”

“Right,” JJ said. “It's easy to forget though.”

“True,” Deacon said, turning back to the piano. “So let's try harder not to. Follow me.”

He started playing again, slowly at first and then more confidently. JJ smiled when she realized what he was playing. “His Eye Is on the Sparrow.” A song her mother used to sing in church a lot when JJ was younger. Did Deacon have church roots to add to his classical background?

Instead of asking questions, JJ did what the man said and began to accompany him on the guitar. When he got to the second verse, he let JJ take the lead and switched to the accompaniment. He smoothly transitioned into another gospel song JJ knew, and she couldn't help but sing softly along as she played. Deacon's voice joined with hers, and soon they were singing in two-part harmony. It had been a while since she had played and sung like this. The last time she could remember had been with her brother, Dean, a couple weeks before she left for the tour. She had found him messing around on the piano in their mother's basement. She didn't know how it had started, but it had ended with them playing and singing together, everything from Mahalia Jackson to Stevie Wonder. It was one of the most genuine moments she had had with her brother since he had returned from the hospital after the car accident. It almost made her cry to think about it.

At the end of the second song, Deacon transitioned again into something else. When JJ realized what it was, she stopped playing.

“What's wrong, Miss Isaacs?” Deacon asked with a smile as he continued playing. “Don't recognize your own song?”

She did recognize it. It was her song from the audition. The song that had convinced Deacon to have her in his band. He was playing it. Perfectly.

He stopped when he realized she hadn't joined him.

“You're playing ‘I'm Yours,' ” JJ said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You're playing my song.”

He nodded. “It's a great song.”

“But . . .” She shook her head, confused. “How?”

He looked away. “I couldn't get that song out of my head. I listened to the tape from that audition over and over until I knew it so well I could play it myself.”

He turned back toward JJ. “Will you play it with me?”

Deacon Hill was asking her if he could play her song. The song she and her brother had written in their mother's basement years ago. The song that she had written to keep her strong after her father died. He wanted to play that song with her. What could she say?

Nothing.

She just nodded and repositioned her guitar.

He let her take the lead this time, and accompanied her on the piano instead. Then he began to sing. He sang JJ's song. Every word from memory, like he had written it himself. JJ could barely breathe, barely continue playing. Tears filled her eyes, ran down her cheeks, and dripped onto the smooth, glossy wood of her guitar. She had never experienced this feeling before—this validation of who she was. She spent her days practicing other people's music, singing other people's lyrics. But no one else had ever sung one of her songs. She had never heard her music through someone else's experience. But today, she did. It was overwhelming.

When they came to the end, she couldn't even look at Deacon. Her face was wet, and the sleeves of her shirt did nothing to help.

Deacon didn't say anything, just allowed her to collect herself. Then when she did, he shattered her again.

“I want to do your song. Tonight. At the show.”

JJ couldn't speak. She searched his face to see if he was joking. But he was not.

“If it's okay with you, that is,” Deacon said tentatively. “And if you think I have it down. I want to sing it. And I want you to play it. We'll bring out the piano. I'll play the accompaniment and sing. But it will just be you and me. No band, no backing track, no synthesizer.”

“But . . . but there's no time. We didn't rehearse. What will the others think?”

“We'll run through at sound check,” Deacon said simply. “And the others will think what I tell them to think. This is my show and I'll do what I want. The only person who has a say right now is you. If you say no, then . . .”

“Yes,” JJ said, nodding, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. “Yes. You can sing my song. I'll play. I'll do it.”

JJ couldn't believe this was happening. And she probably wouldn't believe it was happening until they played it that evening onstage in front of thousands. That is, if she could play it. She was so nervous now, her hands shook so much that she didn't think she would be able to play the chords.

“Easy,” Deacon said with a chuckle. He must have seen her hands shaking because he got up, walked over, and gently held her hands over the guitar. “You'll be fine, JJ. This is your debut. It's natural to feel nervous. But you'll be fine. I promise.”

JJ closed her eyes and began praying silently for serenity. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped and her eyes snapped open. She hadn't done that in a long time. Though there was no evidence Deacon was a practicing Christian, he made the group prayer a part of their pre-show huddle every night. JJ went through her routine prayers and awkward conversations with her estranged Savior during her spare moments in her room, but it had been a while since she had prayed like this. Reflectively. Submissively. Coming to God like it was the only thing she could do, like he was the only thing she needed, like she wanted to be lost in him. And she did. In a way she hadn't wanted to be in a long time. Maybe it was the song. Maybe it was the memories of the service that morning. Maybe it was her utter confusion about her present. Whatever it was, it had caused her to surrender to him. Maybe not forever, but for the rest of this moment. And before she could talk herself out of it again, she closed her eyes and finished her petition. She had wandered far away from the home of his arms, but if he would take her back there now, even for a moment, she would go willingly.

She ran through the song again with Deacon, a new confidence and peace filling her as she did. She didn't know how things would go later, onstage, but she was letting go of any anxiety.

She continued to enjoy that wave of confidence, right up until the pre-show briefing.

 

“Alright, everyone, I just have a few adjustments for the night,” Deacon announced before they broke to get dressed. Kate, Andrew, and a few guys from the sound crew joined them onstage, and everyone else stopped moving to pay attention.

“So we're still going to open with “Satisfied,” like we do every time. But after the dancers do their piece, we're going to start the second set with something new,” Deacon said. “Backstage is going to bring out a piano and I'll start with a new song I'm trying out. No accompaniment. Just me and the piano. And JJ on guitar.”

JJ felt as though every eye turned her way. She looked down at Deacon's feet and tried not to fidget.

“After that, the rest of the band will come in and we'll continue the second set as planned.”

“Is this the way we'll be doing it for the rest of the tour?” Sabrina snapped. JJ flinched at the ice in her tone and kept her eyes at Deacon's shoes.

“We're just trying it out,” Deacon said easily, not engaging her at the same level. “We'll see how it goes, how the crowd responds, and take it from there.”

Murmurs went up from the group, and Kate stepped closer to Deacon and mumbled something to him. From the half roll of Deacon's eyes, JJ suspected it was not an affirmation of the change.

“Look, guys,” Deacon said, his tone sharpening as he interrupted the hushed voices. “We're just trying something new. We've done the show the same for the past five cities. What's wrong with mixing it up?”

“Why fix it if it ain't broke?” Kya mumbled through her snaps of gum.

“Because it's my show and I can do whatever the hell I want,” Deacon snapped. His words were in response to Kya, but his eyes swept everyone on the stage. “Now, if you have any more concerns to raise about this, we can discuss it after the show. Otherwise, let's get moving. We have two hours to curtain.” Then without another word, Deacon strode from the stage.

Sabrina glared at JJ as she turned to follow. “Don't mess up,” she threw behind her. Except instead of
mess
she used another four-letter word that JJ had not often encountered, previous to the tour.

“Don't let them get to you,” Diana said, looping her arm through JJ's and pulling her toward the dressing room. “They're just jealous. We all know that you're not the kind of girl who's going to be singing backup forever. Just go out there and do your best. If Deacon thinks you got this, then you go get it.”

JJ tried to remember that, through the questioning looks she got all evening. More than once she found herself closing her eyes and drifting back to that place of submission she had found earlier in the rehearsal room with Deacon.

By the time the two opening acts had finished their set and JJ was in place behind the curtain, she was ready to go. No matter how confused she was during the day, how many doubts and fears kept her awake at night, it all melted away when she stood in this spot onstage. Standing in the darkness behind the curtain, she could feel the crowd only feet away. Their energy hummed through her like electricity. Her fingers tingled, her muscles were relaxed and ready. Her guitar felt as light as a feather, and it would do what she wanted it to for the next few hours. She was born to be onstage, and she knew it.

Like every night on tour, the minutes melted away. She didn't even have time to be nervous because before she knew it, Deacon was sitting behind the piano and she was standing in the shadows stage left.

“How you doing, Philly?”

The crowd cheered in response to Deacon's question.

“Alright,” he said with a laugh. “Well, in the spirit of brotherly love, I wanted to do something special for you tonight. I want to bring you a new song about love. This is a song we've never done before. And to help me, I'm going to invite JJ Isaacs, our lead guitarist, to give me a hand. JJ?”

JJ was surprised at the crowd's cheers as she stepped into the spotlight slightly behind Deacon. She took a deep breath, realizing this was the closest she had come to performing solo before a major crowd. He nodded at her and she let out the breath she was holding. Then she closed her eyes and began playing “I'm Yours.” She heard Deacon start on the accompaniment, and then his voice came in smoothly on the first verse. Everything slipped away and it was just her, him, and the music. The performance was seamless and so intuitive that when he nodded to her, she knew to take the backup harmony for the chorus, even though they hadn't rehearsed it.