Nashville SEAL: Jameson: Nashville SEALs (31 page)

Instead of going back to his dressing room, he left his guitar on stage, told the band to take a longer than normal break, grabbed his rum and coke, and stepped off the stage at the right, winding his way between ladies until he found the men in baseball caps.

“Howdy. Glad to see you back. They didn’t charge you anything at the door, did they?”

“Yeah, they did.” The tall medic shrugged. “That’s how you get paid, right?”

“Yes, but Reed, that’s the owner, told me he’d let you guys in.” He looked up at Reed who was busy at the bar pouring drinks. Thomas raised his glass. Jameson waved him over, and the man ambled over to the crowd. “This here is my best friend, Thomas Becker. He’s my opening act, which you missed, sadly. He’s a helluva songwriter and taught me everything he knows.”

Thomas wrinkled his brow and puckered his lips. “He’s a liar.”

“Thomas, these are SEALs from San Diego.”

“So what are y’all doing in Nashville?”

“We came for the music,” one of them barked.

“Long way from San Diego,” Thomas insisted. “How long are you here for?”

“Going home tomorrow, actually,” answered the medic. Jameson liked the tall SEAL with the kind eyes. He and several other SEALs close to him were not interested in the girls who had brought chairs and were chatting the other SEALs up.

The club was packed. Jameson scanned for evidence that the producers were in the house, but didn’t find them. “So tell me, if I can ask, how did you become a SEAL?” he asked Cooper.

“My parents were farmers in Nebraska. I thought about farming. Lots of guys go into it. My dad and granddad wanted me to. My sister and her husband lived in the same house as my folks and my granddad. I don’t know, I just saw myself doin’ something else.”

“Like getting shot at?” Jameson’s interest was piqued.

Cooper looked at him a long while. “It’s sort of a calling, Jameson. Just something you find you have to do.”

“But why?”

“Why do you do this?” the Puerto Rican SEAL asked.

“The money. I want to sing professionally, you know, get a record deal, be a star.”

“And so you’re doing that. How does it feel?” Cooper asked him.

Thomas had overheard them. “Yeah, Jameson, how does it feel?” Then he launched into song, “To be on your own. Like a rolling stone.”

The laughter wasn’t comfortable. In fact, it pissed him off. Thomas was becoming someone he didn’t want to hang around anymore.

“I love what I do. I can’t see myself doing anything else.” Jameson knew it was a lie as soon as the words left his mouth.

“We do, too,” Cooper returned.

One of the newcomers leaned forward. “Son, we’re honored to defend this great country of ours from its enemies. That’s what gets us all juiced up. And like Coop just told you, it’s a calling.”

Jameson sat back and thought about the man’s comments.

“This here’s our LPO, Kyle Lansdowne,” said Cooper. “He kind of leads us when we listen.”

Several of the SEALs laughed as Jameson and Kyle shook hands.

“I guess I defend this country against lousy music, then.” Jameson was having fun with them now.

“There you go,” added Thomas. “How long you boys been in?”

“Some of us have been in over ten years. A couple of the young ones came right out of high school.”

Scanning the group of SEALs, he understood an unspoken comradery between them. He noted the way they looked him in the eye and answered questions so directly.

After they talked a few minutes longer, he heard the band begin warming up on stage and took that as his cue. He had spent his whole time chatting with the SEALs and hadn’t lined anyone up to go home with. Perhaps that was for the best, he thought.

“Thomas, make sure Reed knows their tab is on me. And tell him he’s an asshole for charging them anything to come in here. They’re heroes in my book, and heroes don’t pay.”

“Will do, boss. Go make me proud,” Thomas said, as he slapped him on the back.

More people had entered the Halfway. The second set was going to have the biggest audience he’d ever played to. He picked up his guitar just as a barmaid handed him another rum and coke, which he sipped, and then toasted the room. The crowd loved it.

“Okay, this is for the heroes in the room. We got any heroes here tonight?” He put his hand over his eyes to tone down the lights. A couple of drunks from the audience stood up and were pulled down. None of the SEALs stood. He watched Cooper and Kyle shake their heads. He knew it would be a mistake to call them out. “Well, I happen to think we are honored with some very special heroes here tonight. This here’s for you.”

His All-American theme song was what he played at 4-H auction events and sometimes small local fairs. The crowd knew it well and started to clap and cheer. Thomas sat up straight and saluted him, since it was the song Thomas had written some ten years ago that he was sure would make a hit record.

The rest of the set went smoothly. Thomas appeared to be enjoying the conversation with a couple of the SEALs, and he envied the man. In fact—and this had never happened before—he wished he was down there talking to them and Thomas was up on stage. For the first time in many months, he was not seeking someone from the front row. He knew there would be the opportunity if he stayed behind to sign the small posters Reed had made of the week-long gig. But that wasn’t what he was focused on.

He finished the set, came back for the encore, and played two more songs, including his ‘come fuck me song’ that Thomas turned around for, giving him another salute.

“Thank you for spending your hard-earned money to come hear my music,” was his final word to the audience. As an afterthought, he pointed to the SEALs. “Don’t you boys go anywhere. I’m gonna be right back.”

He wasn’t sure what it was he wanted to say to them, but he put his guitar in the base, picked up his black bag in the dressing room, drank what was left of his now-warm rum and coke, and headed out to the theater.

He stood amongst them. Cooper was the tallest. “It’s been a real pleasure and honor that you came to my show tonight. If I get this record deal, and I’m thinkin’ I will, I’d like to dedicate it to you boys.”

Cooper shook his head. “Totally not necessary. We have all the recognition we want or deserve. You’re a helluva singer and songwriter. I think you really got something there.”

Several of the other SEALs came over and shook his hand. Jameson noticed that they all laid their money down on the tables, ignoring the tab that was supposed to be on him. They were quietly making their way out toward the doorway when he heard one of the men say, “Hey, Red. How’s that ankle?”

Her face pinkened as she addressed the group, not sure who had called her out. “I’m fine. I told you guys last night I’m fine.”

“That you are, sweetheart,” the same SEAL answered back. “Here I just met the love of my life, and I gotta leave her behind.” Several of the others patted him on the back as they began filing outside.

Kyle, their leader, was last to shake Jameson’s hand. “You get tired of picking this guitar and playing for whiskey, you come out and visit us some time. We’ll show you some clubs you could do well in. ’Course, it’s not Nashville. And the girls, well they’re pretty, but not as pretty as this little one here,” he nodded to the redhead. She blushed.

Jameson accepted a card from Kyle. “Thanks, man. Appreciate that. If I ever venture out that way, I’ll look you up.”

“You do that. We’ll go do man things, jump out of airplanes an’ shit—pardon me, ma’am.” Kyle bent to acknowledge her. “Until then, you break a leg, or don’t they say that in the music business?”

“Nah. We just say, ‘Give ’em hell.’”

“That’s what they tell us, too, and that’s pretty much what we do, I guess,” Kyle answered with his wide smile and affable manner. Jameson liked the man instantly. He was a leader without being obnoxious or pushy. He was a fresh drink of water to some of the types he’d had to listen to and be around. In the music industry, a smile might not really be a smile, a handshake not really an agreement between two honorable men, in a town where you didn’t really know who to trust and who was stealing from you, where robbery of the soul was as commonplace as hookups at bars and as certain as the bevy of women only too willing to stoke the fires of a young man’s ego.

Kyle made an unremarkable exit and was just gone. That left him standing behind with the redhead. Thomas had said his goodbyes earlier and headed over to the bar.

He focused on the lady standing by his side. She smelled wonderful, looked soft and warm as a country kitchen. She was very pretty, without much makeup, which he preferred, and as he studied her blue-green eyes, he was affected by the gentle way about her that was soothing, not asking or expecting too much of him.

The crowd was becoming drunker, boisterous belly laughs piercing the smoke-filled space, and he didn’t like the fact that Arlen wasn’t anywhere around. Remembering the trouble that had occurred last night made him more than a little concerned.

“I’d offer you a drink, but I’m needing to leave this crowd. You wanna come back to my place for a bit?” It was the first time he’d actually asked a girl to his room. Her eyes angled down, hesitating, so he decided to let her off easy, if that’s what she wanted. “Oh, it’s all right, darlin’, no offense. I didn’t mean anything by it. Maybe I’ll see you around another time.”

Her face came to pretty attention. “No, that wasn’t it. I’d be happy to have a drink with you at your place.”

He gave her the room number and the name of the hotel.

Back at the
hotel, Jameson took the card from his wallet and flicked it back and forth between his fingers a few times. He didn’t believe in coincidence. There was some reason he was meant to meet these men tonight. Kicking off his cowboy boots, he opened a fresh bottled water without opening the minibar. A part of him just wanted a shower and a deep sleep. If she took too long coming over, he would be asleep in his clothes. He sat in the reading chair at the corner, staring at his TV, but without turning it on, listening to the words playing around in his head.

The gentle knock on the door jolted him awake. He had fallen asleep for just a few seconds. In his stocking feet, he turned the handle and found the redhead standing in front of him.

“Hi, Jameson.”

“Come on in,” he said, like he always did when he saw a pretty woman standing there.

She sat on the edge of the bed, which was different. She still had the strap of her purse over her shoulder, which made him wonder if she was planning on bolting or staying.

“You want something?”

“Something strong.”

That nabbed his interest, so he chuckled. “Okay. Needing an ounce of courage, are we?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” he turned in her direction to make sure it was the same girl he’d thought he’d let in. He opened the minibar. “We got vodka, orange juice. I got Jim Beam, little bottles of crummy wine, some beer, or what’s—”

“I’ll have the Jim Beam.”

“Okay, I’ll join you. You wanna wait here while I go for some ice?”

“Only if you want it. I’m fine.”

He started to walk toward the bathroom to fetch a couple of glasses when she stopped him. “Just give me the Jim Beam.” She stood, extending her arm.

He did. She screwed the top off, toasted her tiny bottle to his tiny bottle, and downed the whole thing in one long gulp. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, and as he watched her, he could feel how the liquor was flowing down her spine. She resumed her seat on the bed. He was left standing without having touched his liquor, he was so stunned.

“I need to take your temperature, darlin’. Am I
that
bad?”

“No, don’t be silly.”

“Maybe you misunderstood my intentions, and if I need to apologize, I’m game. You mind telling me what’s so hard about being here that you have to take a drink before you can talk or anything? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She kicked off her shoes, which made him feel a little bit better.

“Come, sit. Here.” She patted the bed next to her.

He took a seat in the reading chair several feet away from her and waited. He wasn’t sure he was going to like what was coming next.

“Jameson, you obviously don’t remember me.”

Jameson’s full attention was on the little lady now. “I’m sorry, but, no, I—”

“I know. Too many women, too many shows, and too many towns. How could you keep them all straight?”

“I think I’d remember you. So what you’re saying is that you and I—”

“Yes. Several times. At my parent’s ranch, too, in North Carolina.”

The fog began to clear. “That was a long time—” He stopped and tried to remember her, and did. But she was a blonde then. And yes, she was the one from Charlotte. “Lizzie?”

She nodded, examining her fingers entwined in her lap. She wasn’t smiling when she looked up at him. “Good. I’m glad at least you remember.”

“Of course I remember. One of the best weeks of my life. Your dad and mom were so nice to me.”

She examined her hands again. “Both gone now, sorry to say.”

He came over to her and kneeled in front, placing his hands on her upper arms and rubbed her gently. “I’m so sorry, honey. It’s the red hair. I never would have recognized you if you hadn’t told me.”

He took her hands in his and pulled her fingers to his mouth, kissing them. She eyed him carefully as if thinking about bolting. He dropped her hands, but stayed kneeling in front of her.

“How’ve you been, honey?”

“I’ve been well. My folks passing has left me enough to have a little house in the country. I sold the horse ranch.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, I’m not. I mean, it reminded me too much of them. I just couldn’t keep it.”

“I’m so glad you looked me up. I always wondered whatever happened to you. Thought maybe I’d see you sometime on the road.”

“No, Jameson. I don’t do that. I’m not into taking numbers and waiting in line, even though it’s feeling a little like that now.”

“Wait a minute, honey, I asked
you
here tonight, remember?”

“Well, maybe you’re gonna reconsider this after what I have to tell you. I just wanted a quiet place to be able to have this conversation.”