One More Time (2 page)

Gloria’s younger brother, Charlie, is the polar opposite of her. He has never been married, owns his own business and is as steady as they come. On my sixteenth birthday, I got a job at The Shot Glass bussing tables and moved in with Uncle Charlie. By that time, my sister was already out of the house and living with one boyfriend or another, while Gloria was caught up in one of her various spouses and their children. Days like today, I really wished I had a normal supportive mother.

Grabbing my guitar out of the back of my car, I glanced around the parking lot.
Wow, it’s really crowded tonight
. Weaving in and out of cars, I made my way to the back entrance. I paused at the door and took in a deep breath. The second I turned the handle, I was accosted by the sound of someone tuning a guitar…on my stage.
What in the world? Uncle Charlie didn’t mention another act when we’d spoken earlier.

Every now and then, Uncle Charlie gets a wild hair and adds an additional act. A few times, he has even guilted me into sharing the stage, something I greatly dislike doing. It looked as if tonight was going to be one of those nights.
Oh joy.

“Ibby, you’re here!” My uncle’s voice boomed from his office door. “Hurry and get your guitar out, sweetie. Had you been on time, I would have introduced you to Dillon. Since you chose tonight of all nights to be late, however, you’re going to have to introduce yourself. Make sure you follow his lead. He’s warming up right now. Hurry it up and get out there!” He made a go-on-ahead motion with his hands.

“Sorry, Uncle Charlie,” I said, kissing his cheek. “You-know-who called and wouldn’t let me get off the phone until he said his peace.”

“That boy is a menace. I’m glad you have finally been forced to see the light.”

If he only knew.
I told Uncle Charlie that Jimmy and I had broken up. I did not, however, tell him why. “Who is Dillon?” I asked, quickly pulling my guitar from its case.

“Dillon is the young man I mentioned two weeks ago. You know, Angela’s nephew.”

Angela Whitaker and my uncle had been friends since high school. She had recently been diagnosed with stage four ovarian Cancer. It was heartbreaking. My uncle ran into her nephew last month and they planned a fundraiser to help with her medical bills.
How could I forget something so important? Jimmy…that’s how! Ugh!
I quickly handed my guitar case and purse to my uncle, bolted up the stairs and across the stage. I skirted around Dillon and plopped myself down on the empty stool beside him.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I panted. Reaching down, I grabbed my guitar strap and hefted it over my head. As I situated it in my arms, I relaxed my shoulders and looked up into…silver eyes.
Holy heavenly angels above. The guy has silver eyes!

“I’m Dillon,” he said, holding out his hand. His voice was deep and sensual with bass notes that hit me right where it counted.

Leaning forward, I cleared the lust from my throat and grasped his outstretched hand. “Hi, I’m Isabella and I’m really sorry I’m late.”

His eyes moved across my face before coming back to me and I felt his hand twitch around mine before releasing it. “No worries, I was just warming up, here,” he said, smiling down at his guitar.
Oh Lord Jesus above me, this man is f-i-n-e.
Blondish hair slightly brushed across his forehead and onto a perfectly chiseled man-face. From his nice square jaw to his lush lips, straight nose, and silver gray eyes…that were staring straight at me, I took him in. He reminded me of a young Paul Newman, except with longer hair and more pronounced facial features.
Excuse me while I swoon.
“Are you okay?” he asked, interrupting my reverie.

Embarrassed to be caught staring, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I like your guitar.” I nodded down at his guitar. The second the stupid statement was out of my mouth, I wanted to take it back.

He smiled, “Thanks. Am I the only one who is feeling nervous here?”

“God no,” I said in a gush of pent up air.

We both laughed.

“I’m so sorry about your aunt. Is she here tonight?”

“No, she’s too sick to leave the house. Hospice and a few friends are taking care of her.”

“I’m so sorry, Dillon. Please let me know if I can help in any way. I’ll go sit with her this week and keep her company.” His silver grey eyes stared through me and I suddenly felt awkward. “Ummmm, maybe tonight we could do something moving, but not necessarily sad. Maybe something more or less to celebrate the great life your aunt has lived and the love you have for such an incredible woman.” The relieved look on his face made me smile.

“Sounds great,” he said, “How about we start with
Wild Horses
? It is one of Aunt Angela’s all-time favorites.”

It was my turn to look relieved. “Perfect choice. How about you start and I’ll play in.”

His eyebrow rose in question. “You sure you’re okay with that? I mean, this is your stage and all.”

Something about his tone and the way he asked the question made my insides quiver. “Tonight it’s our stage,” I breathily told him. “Let’s make your aunt proud.” With a beautiful smile on his face, he strummed the opening chords to the song. My heart flip-flopped in my chest.
The guy was beyond gorgeous
.

I wanted everyone to feel at home in my uncle’s bar, so I had set the stage up to resemble a living room with a high backed stool and a pretty ornate side table next to it. On the side table sat a decorative lamp. Tonight, my uncle had added a second stool for Dillon and moved the table and lamp between us.

“Get ready,” I whispered. The second I hit the switch and turned on the lamp, the crowd went wild. Once everyone settled down a bit, I nodded to Dillon. I was drawn to his fingers as they strummed the opening chords to the song. He had strong, sexy artist hands. From the looks of it, he had strong sexy everything. As soon as I had a feel for his style, I joined in. When he opened his mouth and started singing, goose bumps erupted all over my body. His timbre was rich and full and perfectly balanced. The boy could sing. I nervously joined in on the second verse and didn’t relax until he gave his nod of approval. After
Wild Horses,
he rolled into an amazing version of
Dock of the Bay
by Otis Redding. I had to fight to keep my mind focused on the music, instead of just gaping in awe at how incredible his voice was. After several upbeat songs, it dawned on me I was having fun. Not the pretend-for-Jimmy’s-sake-you-are-enjoying-the-moment fun, but the kind of good honest fun I used to have before Jimmy stepped in and sucked the life out of everything. We finished the set with one of my all-time favorite songs,
Into the Mystic.
There was something special about singing a Van Morrison song and, with a voice like Dillon’s to accompany me, it was even more so.

For the next set we were comfortable enough with each other to step it up a notch. The performance went by in a blur and our voices meshed together perfectly. He knew exactly when to drop his pitch and tone and I knew when to lift mine. It felt as if we had been singing together our whole lives. Our harmony was spot on, the blend of our voices sublime. It was music at its finest. It was pure brilliance and I never wanted it to end.

“That was incredible. Thanks for sharing your stage with me,” Dillon said, as we were putting away our guitars. “The rasp in your voice is amazing.”

“Thank you,” I shyly replied. People had told me this before, but I’d never heard it from a fellow musician. “That means a lot to me. At first I was wary but I have to confess. You, too, have an awesome voice and I had…fun.”

He laughed. “You sound so surprised?”

“Oh! Sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude or anything. It has just been a really long time since I cut loose and had fun,” I sheepishly admitted.

With a smile and a wink, he said, “Well, why stop now? Have a drink with me. We can talk music and about why you haven’t had fun in a really long time.”

“She’d love to, except she promised to have a drink with me,” interrupted the voice of my best friend, Sally. She was standing stage left with her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face.

Sally Wilder and I met the first day of kindergarten, when some kid named Marlon tried to force me to touch a frog he had found on the playground. I didn’t want to touch the frog because I just knew it would give me warts. If I had warts, then my sister would make fun of me and my mom would threaten to kick me out of the house. Sally stepped in and told Marlon to leave me alone. Ignoring her, he shoved the frog in my face. Having none of that, Sally kicked his kneecap and made him drop the frog. As soon as he started wailing, she grabbed my hand and dragged me off to the jungle gym. We had been best friends ever since.

Sally stood all of five feet tall. With short brown hair, hazel eyes and zero body fat, she was a force of nature. She was fiercely protective of me, but most especially when it came to men, or should I say,
Jimmy.
Jimmy despised Sally and the feeling was more than mutual. The prospect of needing to explain Sally’s disposition and my relationship with Jimmy to Dillon nauseated me, but I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to talk about music with someone who understood.
If he asks, I’ll just give him the basics.

“Can I have a rain-check, Sal?” My eyes quietly pleaded with her.

She stared at me for a second and, I guess saw something in them that reassured her, because she suddenly nodded her head in agreement. “Fine, I’m going back behind the bar. Say goodbye before you leave and make sure you leave the front porch light on.” She gave me a quick hug and Dillon a look of warning. He smiled openly and winked at her and she scowled.

As soon as she was gone, he turned and gave me a what-the-hell-was-that look. “Sorry, that’s my best friend, Sally. She’s a little protective of me,” I told him. “Let me get my stuff from the back office and I’ll be right out.”

“What’s your pleasure?” he asked.

You naked in my bed
popped into my head. I refrained from slapping myself for having such dirty thoughts. For all I knew he had a girlfriend waiting at home for him. “Order me a beer, please. Any variety will do. I like them all.”

He placed his hand over his heart and gasped. “A woman who likes all beer! Say it isn’t so?”

Laughing, I went in search of my guitar case and purse. When I returned he had commandeered a couple of barstools and beers for us.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” I said as I perched on the stool next to him.

“Twas nothing at all,” he responded. Our eyes met and held for a second before I looked away.

“She blushes,” he quietly said.

“No she doesn’t,” I replied, even though we both knew I was lying. Looking for something else to talk about, I asked him where he was living.

“I’ve been living in Charlotte about a year now.” A part of me was sad to hear this.

“Really? Do you have a regular gig there?”

“As a matter of fact, I just got a job at a new bar called Dragonfly. I start work in a few weeks and am hoping they’ll let me play every now and then.”

“It would be a shame if they didn’t,” I responded.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“Born and raised right here in Charleston,” I replied. His gaze made me self-conscious. I suddenly had the urge to bolt to the bathroom and make sure I didn’t have make-up smeared all over my face.

As if reading my mind, he laughed and said, “Sorry for staring. I’m not a pervert or anything, I swear. I’ve just never seen hair so black and eyes so blue before, and I realize this sounds like a line but it’s not.”

“Sure it’s not,” I teased through my laughter. His silver eyes locked on mine and a tendril of desire slithered up my spine. With just a look, this guy had me practically panting. Jimmy’s touch had been pleasant, but, it had never made me want to beg him for it. If anything, I spent most of my time fending him off and making excuses. Taking a big swig of my beer, I said, “My Mom is Italian and my Dad was Irish.”

“Was?”

“He left when I was one. Gloria raised me and my older sister all by herself.”

“Gloria?” he asked.

“My mom.”

“From the looks of it, she did a great job,” he murmured and my face instantly heated. “Hey, do you by chance want to get out of here?”

“Another line that’s not a line?” I teasingly asked and he laughed.

“That most definitely was a line,” he replied.

As we laughed together, I wondered if I should invite him back to my place or not. I had never been so forward with a man before, but he didn’t know this. He didn’t know the beaten-down, introverted Isabella I had become. All he knew was the Isabella sitting in front of him.
I could be anyone right now and he wouldn’t know the difference.
There was something incredibly freeing about this.

He dipped his head to catch my eyes. “We can stay here. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I shook my head. “Oh, you didn’t. In fact, why don’t we go back to my place?”

His eyebrows rose in question. “You sure?”

I smiled. “Positive.”

“Will she mind?” He nodded his head at Sally, who was busy serving drinks at the opposite end of the bar.

“Naw, she’ll probably go home with one of the bartenders, anyway,” I told him.

He laughed. “I have to head back to Charlotte sometime tomorrow so if you don’t mind, I’ll just follow you in my car.”

On that note, we grabbed our guitars and my purse. I waved to Sally, who mouthed for me to be safe, and headed out the door. I had already said goodbye to Uncle Charlie in the back. I was glad he wasn’t seeing me leave with Dillon. The last thing I wanted to do was explain why I was leaving the bar with Angela’s nephew.

After I moved in with Uncle Charlie, he made sure I finished high school with decent grades and encouraged me to go to college. I didn’t want to disappoint him the way my sister, who never bothered to finish high school, had. At my uncle’s insistence, I applied and got accepted to College of Charleston. Since I lived in town, I didn’t have to pay for room and board. Uncle Charlie helped me pay for books and tuition and between the two of us I managed to graduate with a major in Music and a minor in English. I went to school during the day and worked at night and on the weekends at the bar. Every Friday night I got to play the songs I had written, as well as my favorite covers. Friday nights were my night to shine.