A Plain Love Song (20 page)

Jackson’s hand covered Adah’s. It felt warm and a little damp. “Hey, Bert. What’s up? I busted my ankle right after I got home from school. Haven’t gotten out much.”

“You’re out now.” Bert’s gaze lingered on Adah. “And then some.”

“Yeah, and then some.” The short, slim girl standing in his shadow caught Adah’s attention. Her voice radiated hostility. “Guess you lost your phone or something.”

“Hey, Dani Jo.” Jackson’s tone didn’t waver. “How ya been?”

Dani Jo tugged at the deep scooped neck of her pink shirt. It didn’t do any good. “Like you care. I guess RaeAnne was right. You dumped me for your maid.”

Chapter 16

I
t took Adah a few seconds to realize this was
the
Dani Jo. RaeAnne’s friend. The one Jackson claimed he wasn’t dating. Standing here at the rodeo arena with a date and a scowl on her face. Jackson’s face went beet red. His jaw pulsed. Before he could explode, Adah jumped in. “I’m Adah. We’re not dating.”

“I guess not or you would’ve worn something a little nicer.” Dani Jo bared even white teeth through thin lips covered with bright pink lipstick. “You must stink to high heaven, sweating in that get-up.”

“I like her get-up just fine and she smells good,” Jackson sounded like an old barn dog awakened in the middle of the night by a prowling wolf. “At least she doesn’t flash it around like you do.”

“You used to like what I flashed plenty.”

Bert continued to look Adah up and down like a starving man contemplating a nicely grilled venison steak. He seemed oblivious to the sparks flying through the air between his date and Jackson. “Don’t recall seeing you around, honey.”

“I told you, she’s one of those Amish girls.” Dani Jo tossed curly black hair over her shoulder, covered only by skinny straps on a shirt that ended well above her navel. She wrapped the words in a blanket of disdain. “She cleans Jackson’s house.”

“She does a lot more than—”

“Jackson.” Adah didn’t need to be defended and she felt no shame
for her hard, decent work. “Pleased to meet you, Bert, and you too, Dani Jo.”

Bert’s expression remained perplexed as his gaze jerked from Adah to Jackson and back. Dani Jo didn’t give him time to ask another question. She wiggled closer in her short-shorts, slid her hand through the crook of his arm, and yanked. “You said you’d buy me a pop and a candy bar. Let’s go before the music starts.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bert shrugged. His massive shoulders threatened to tear the seams of his shirt. “Nice meeting you, Adah. Don’t be a stranger, you two. There’s a kegger at the Dawsons’ later tonight. Come on out.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jackson’s hand tightened on Adah’s. “We’ll see you there.”

Not likely. Adah kept her mouth shut.

“The music is starting.” Dani Jo’s voice had a distinct whine now. “And I need a restroom.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They disappeared into the flow of people moving to and from seats.

“That was awkward.” Jackson heaved a sigh. “Sorry.”

Adah yanked her hand from his. “No skin off my nose.”

He snorted. “I can tell by the sour look on your face.”

Adah couldn’t help it. She laughed at the equally sour look on his. “It’s not your fault, I reckon.”

“You got that right. Let’s start over. You want something to drink? A pop? Some lemonade?”

It was a long way to the concession stand and Adah didn’t want to miss a thing. She didn’t care about Bert and his lingering stare or Dani Jo’s hostile tone. She’d come for the music and the band members were striding across the arena to the stage that had popped up in the middle in what seemed a matter of seconds.

“The music is starting.”

And indeed it was. Loud and foot-tapping and all encompassing. Adah could think of nothing else. She lost herself in the guitar riffs and the drum solo and the way Clayton Star could take a note and make it last and last until her own lungs might burst. Jackson left and came
back with root beer and popcorn. She hardly knew he was gone and barely tasted his offering.

The music ended long before she could sate her desire for more. The band did two encores and still the crowd clapped and chanted. Adah, to her own surprise, joined in. She wanted one more song, three or four more minutes before she had to go back to being Adah Knepp, Plain girl, who cleaned houses and liked it.

Finally, it ended. No more encores.

“Come on.” Jackson threw their cups and popcorn containers in the nearest trash can. He dusted off his hands as he helped her navigate toward the exit. “I’ve got a surprise for you. This way. If we hurry we can catch Clay.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Don’t you want to meet him?”

The thought made her stomach do backflips. Meet a man who had just entertained five or six hundred people with music he wrote and performed? “I don’t know. I mean, yes. Can you really do that?”

“He’s originally from these parts. We jammed a few times when he was in Columbia for gigs.” Jackson grinned, obviously pleased with the surprise on her face. “You think I’m just blowing smoke when I talk about being a musician. I work at it hard. I have been since high school. Even had a band of my own for a while.”

While his parents thought he was in class, he made music instead.

He guided her through the back of the arena into a tunnel that ran underneath the seats overhead. The laughter and noise told her when they were close. The band members were hooting and hollering and carrying on, blowing off steam. A huge, hairy man who looked like a brown bear in a black, too-tight shirt tried to wave them off, but when Jackson insisted he call back on the radio, he grudgingly did just that. A few seconds later he silently waved them through.

A couple of the guys from the band brushed past them as they entered what looked like a dressing room, laughing and shoving each other like little kids. “Hey, Jack, go on in. Clay’s just relaxing. We’ll be right back.”

Jackson waved and kept moving.

The room was stuffed to the brim with chairs, a couch, a table covered with makeup and brushes and all sorts of stuff Adah couldn’t identify. It smelled of sweat, cigarettes, beer, and too much cologne. Along one wall sat a series of stands, each holding a beautiful guitar. Some acoustic, some electric. Also a banjo and something Jackson had told her was called a mandolin. She liked it. She liked them all. She almost veered that direction, but the man in the center of the room drew her toward him instead.

Clayton had removed his red Western-style shirt to reveal a white T-shirt. He lounged in an easy chair, a brown, long-neck bottle dangling from three fingers. A skinny blonde in tight jean shorts and a red, white, and blue tube top that made her look like a miniature flag sat on his knee. He grinned and waved them in. “Hey, Jack, good to see you. I wondered if you were out there. You shoulda come by before the show. I would’ve jammed with you on stage. You need to get some face time, bro.”

“Next time.” Jackson nodded toward Adah. “I had a date.”

Clayton stood, dumping the girl to her feet. He towered over all of them. No wonder he looked so massive on stage. Up close, he was even bigger. “Aren’t you a sweet thing?” He held out a hand. “I don’t bite, ma’am, I promise.”

He called her
ma’am
. Adah found her tongue twisted in three kinds of knots. She shook his hand so fast it might’ve been a hot poker.

“Adah has a hankering to be a country music singer. She writes her own songs.” Jackson slung his arm around her shoulders in a casual motion that caught her by surprise. She stood rooted to the spot, not certain she still breathed. “She has a great voice and she’s practically playing the guitar after one lesson. I keep telling her she’s a natural.”

“Really?” Clayton scratched at the reddish-blonde stubble on his chin. He dropped back into the chair and the flag girl, who didn’t seem to mind that she hadn’t been introduced, slipped back on his knee. Clayton rubbed her bare back with a hand bigger than a catcher’s mitt. “As it happens, I got an opening. You looking to audition for backup singer?”

He directed the question to Adah. Her mouth opened. The words stuck in the back of her throat. “What?” The single syllable came out in a squeak. “Nee. No.”

Did he mean right now? Did he want her to sing now? Her mouth had gone dry and her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth. She couldn’t remember a single word to a single song she’d ever written. Eying the distance to the door, she considered making a dash for it. Jackson had no right to put her in this position. He knew she couldn’t do this.

“Whoa, hang on now.” Jackson rubbed her back in a motion exactly like the one Clayton employed with flag girl. His touch only intensified her anxiety. “From the look on her face, she’s pretty starstruck at the moment. And she’s way too good to be a backup singer. She needs her own band.”

Clayton snorted and took a long draw from the bottle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You always were full of yourself, buddy. You know the drill. Everyone has to start somewhere. She needs to get her foot in the door. That’s why you brought her down here, isn’t it?”

“Hey, man, I came by to tell you the show was great. Got my money’s worth. I wanted my girl to hear some good music and see that it can happen. A local boy can make good.” Jackson’s hand slid down Adah’s hair in a soft brushing motion. “How ’bout I send you a demo once we get one made? You can hear for yourself.”

My girl? A demo? Jackson was making things up as he went along.

“I don’t know if this local boy has made good just yet, but thanks for the vote of confidence.” Clayton took another swig from the bottle. “Send me a CD. If she’s as good as you say she is, I’ll pass it around. What about you? You got one yet?”

“Working on it. Got a bunch of new songs.”

“That’s good, real good. Be sure to use a good studio. Get a decent product. That’s the secret. I’m headed to Branson from here and then on to Nashville, with any luck. You’ve still got my email address though.” He leaned down and set the bottle on the floor. Flag girl popped up and went to a nearby cooler. A second later, Clayton had a fresh beer in his
hand. “Where are my manners? Have a seat, have a seat! Y’all want a drink or something? Corky and Sam went for another bottle of Crown, but we still got plenty of beer. The little lady might like a wine cooler. There’s a bunch of food too, finger foods, mostly girlie stuff. Corky’s picking up some barbecue for us.”

Jackson must have felt the tension ripple through her body. His arm dropped and his hand wrapped around hers. “I have to get Adah back to her buggy, but maybe I’ll circle back a little later. I know you’re gonna do a rehash of tonight’s show. You messed up on that last song before you did the encores, didn’t you?”

“You noticed that? It’s new and we’re still working out the kinks.” Clayton chuckled. The sound died away. “Did you say buggy?”

“See y’all in a while.” Jackson’s gaze went to the girl. “Nice meeting you, ma’am.”

As if they’d actually met her. Adah let Jackson tug her back out into the tunnel. Otherwise she’d still be standing there, mouth open, trying not to stare at so many beautiful musical instruments all lined up and ready for picking.

“What was that all about?” She jerked her hand from his and scampered along the corridor, her feet fueled by fury. “Why would you do that to me?”

“Do what? Introduce you to someone who can help you with your career? Or get you in front of people?”

“Number one, you shouldn’t be touching me. You promised.” She couldn’t outrun him even though he was handicapped by his bad ankle. The faster she walked, the faster he hobbled along. Feeling guilty at making him put a strain on his injured leg, she slowed. “And what career? You’re just filling my head up with stuff that will never happen. Never.”

“That’s what you’re mad about?” He grasped her arm at the elbow and swung her around. “You’re mad because you want it and you’re afraid you can’t have it.”

“I know I can’t have it. There can’t be a demo or a career.” She jerked free of his touch. “Not without giving up everything that’s important to me.”

“You wouldn’t have to give up me.”

Like she had him. The way he looked at her, that was exactly what he was saying. If she touched his hand at this moment, the electricity would knock her into tomorrow. “I’m not your girl. You promised not to touch me and you broke that promise. How can I trust anything you say?”

“I know.”

“You promised.”

“I know.” He kicked at a clod of dirt, messing up his shiny boot. “Boy howdy, do I know.”

“Is it so awful?” She couldn’t imagine what he saw in her with her long, faded blue dress and black sneakers. What with all the girls around them dressed in skintight blue jeans decorated with rhinestones on the back pockets, shiny boots, and tight tops with skinny straps and hems that ended above their belly buttons. “Just being friends?”

He ducked his head. It bothered her that she couldn’t see his face under the brim of his hat. “Is it so bad, Jackson?”

“It’s not bad at all.” He looked her in the eye. “It’s an honor to be called your friend.”

“Why?” She stopped in the middle of the path that led to the overflow parking. “Why do you say that? I’m nothing special.”

“Honey, you are all kinds of special. I don’t know why you can’t see that.” He faced her, his eyes shining in the overhead street light. “When you sing, you sound like an angel.”