Chapter 28 Josh
JOSH
It’s been a week since Melanie’s birthday, and despite my telling her that I’m all in, I feel like she’s pulling back.
I’m trying not to read into it too much.
She’s told me repeatedly that she needs a change, she’s tired of tending bar, she wants to do something different.
When I ask what’s eating at her, she says it’s that. But I’m not so sure.
I’ve been playing at Fin’s every Wednesday and Saturday night.
It was supposed to just be mid-week but when the owner, Mike, saw the crowd I drew, he asked for standing Saturdays as well.
It works out nicely since Melanie is often at work on Saturdays, but it means less time for us to rehearse together.
Summer is flying by. Labor Day weekend is only a few weeks away, and it’ll be here before we know it.
I’m anxious because I worry that we won’t have enough songs for the EP.
It’s not the concert I’m worried about. Melanie knows all my songs.
We can play “Every Song” and I’m almost finished with “The Sound of Her Name.” I just know I’ll be letting Gary and the record company down if I don’t follow through.
The crazy part is, I almost don’t care anymore.
I’ve spent years chasing fame—the high that comes along with a crowd singing along with your words.
And once I got it, it didn’t fill the void that seems to exist permanently in my chest the way I thought it would.
What do I care about now? Melanie. I want a life with her, and I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been all these years to not come and get her.
Back when we were kids, I used to dream about Nashville, but never once did I picture going without her.
In my mind, it was always the two of us—loading up her beat-up old Buick, guitars in the backseat, chasing songs and neon lights together.
Somewhere along the way, I let that dream twist into something lonelier.
I went, and she stayed. And it never felt right, not once.
Maybe that’s why it never filled the hole inside me.
Because the truth is, Nashville was never the dream. She was.
Today, while Melanie’s at work, I’m doing some research, looking for studio space we can rent to get these two songs recorded and over to Gary and Mark.
I have been dragging my feet, and I don’t know why.
Gary’s ears must be ringing because just as I click on the website for Rockstar Rehearsal Studios, about an hour and a half away, my phone buzzes.
“Hey, Gary,” I say, tapping the speaker phone icon so I can keep my focus on the computer in front of me.
“Why do you sound so glum?” Gary barks into the phone. “Mark said your song is fantastic!”
I let out a defeated sigh. “It is. It’s a great song.”
“So, what’s the problem? This is what you wanted.” His optimism annoys me. It shouldn’t surprise me though. Gary is not the type of manager who entertains deeper than surface-level emotions. I can’t tell him how complicated writing this album has been for me, he’d never get it.
“Nothing. I’m trying to find a studio space to rent so we can record it for you guys.” I force positivity into my voice.
“Well, get to it then. I just wanted to check on you. It’s been a while since we’ve talked.” Gary sounds like he’s holding something back.
“I’m good. Just…keeping busy.”
“Okay. Have you gone to any meetings?” Gary asks, and I know he’s trying to sound casual.
“AA?” I all but growl. “No, why would I? I’m not an alcoholic.”
“I know man, but it can’t hurt,” Gary says carefully. It’s not his usual topic of conversation, and it makes me wonder if Mark put him up to this.
“I’m fine,” I stress. “I haven’t had a drink since I’ve been back here.” That much is true. I’ve actually felt pretty proud of myself for it, too. It’s been tempting, hanging with the guys and staying sober, but it’s always worth it when I feel good and remember everything the next day.
“All right,” Gary relents. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Thanks,” I say, my tone clipped. “I’ll let you know when we’ve got something.”
We hang up and the immense pressure to get this song recorded all but pummels me. I immediately dial Rockstar Recording but come up empty—they’re booked through the month. I try three more and get that or no answer.
“I guess we’ll have to record it here,” I mutter, falling back on the couch.
“What was that?” Melanie startles me.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I bristle, sitting up.
“Sorry.” She smiles. “You were on the phone when I came in.”
I turn to look at her. “I’ve called the five closest studios—which by the way none of them are actually close—and no one has any open availability for us to record.” I rake a hand through my hair. “I don’t know how we’re going to get this done.”
Melanie moves behind the couch, leans over, wraps her arms around my neck in a hug, and kisses my temple.
“It’ll be okay. We have a lot of quiet here.
We can use your mics and the recording app.
And I’m sure we can find another app to mix and layer it.
It should be fine for Mark to just hear what we’ve got. ”
I gently move out of her grasp and she lets go, perhaps sensing my barriers going up.
“I guess so,” I grumble.
“Let’s do it on Sunday. I’m off and we can take as long as we need to get it right.” Melanie comes to sit next to me, tucking her feet up under her. Just her nearness to me softens my prickly mood.
I reach for her hand, rubbing tiny circles on the top of it with my thumb. “Thanks, babe,” I say, leaning in for a kiss.
I’ll feel better once it’s done.
* * *
Saturday morning, Melanie suggests we take a walk around Rotary Park and get a feel for the set up. I haven’t been there in years, so I agree. We shower and dress, and we’re heading out the door when I pause to grab my guitar.
Melanie gives me a playful smirk. “We’re supposed to be taking a walk,” she teases. “You are worse than me, dragging that thing around.”
“Hey, you never know.” I hold up my hands.
Rotary Park is in the center of town. On quiet afternoons during our teen years, Melanie and I often came here to play.
The grounds are lush with green grass and beautiful gardens.
There is a fountain in the center and various little kids stand around it, throwing in coins and making wishes.
The park isn’t large, only spanning about a half a block, but there are benches scattered around and lots of green space for lounging.
In the center of it all is a large gazebo bandstand, used for concerts in the summertime.
It’s where Melanie and I will be performing together in a few weeks.
We’ve spent many an afternoon on the steps of the gazebo, strumming away.
I pause when I see it, closing my eyes as memories envelop me.
Melanie’s head falling back as a melodic laugh escapes her. Melanie strumming her guitar, a glint in her eyes as she watches me sing my verse. Melanie leaning over to kiss me, not caring who sees.
“You okay?” She elbows me now, bringing me out of my trance.
I glance her way, a wistful smile pulling on my lip. “Yeah. Just…nostalgia.”
“Lots of memories here,” she agrees, nodding. “Come on, let’s walk.”
She holds an open palm out to me.
I sling the strap of my guitar case higher on my shoulder and grasp her hand. We start slow, walking the beautiful gray brick pavers, silently people watching.
“It’s changed so much,” I murmur, looking around.
“They’ve re-done it a couple of times in the last two decades, yeah.” Melanie playfully nudges me with her shoulder.
“I can’t believe I’ve been away that long,” I mutter.
“I can. You had a dream, and you chased it,” Melanie says, looking up at me. “I’d have expected nothing less.”
“What about you?” I ask, and my voice comes out more emotional than I expect it to. “What’s your dream?”
Melanie pushes her lips together in a tight line. “I’m still figuring that out,” she says quietly.
“I know you will.” I stop as we near the end of our first lap.
Before us is the gazebo. People are sitting scattered on the steps.
Others walk around the park, some sit on benches with coffees, others reading in the shade of an oak tree.
A group of twenty-something women sit on a picnic blanket in the grass, drinking iced coffees.
“So, this is where we’ll play on September sixth,” Melanie says, one corner of her mouth turned upward. “It’s pretty full circle, isn’t it?” Her eyes glisten with wonderment.
I scratch my jaw, looking at the gazebo. “It is pretty crazy. We played here nearly every afternoon that spring.” I glance at her. “Now we’ll be playing here for real.”
Melanie grins. “It feels like serendipity.”
I nod, feeling myself relax. “Should we sit and play? For old time’s sake?”
Melanie grimaces. “I don’t know,” she says, looking around. “There are a lot of people out this morning.”
My mouth quirks into a crooked smile. “Think of it as practice, come on.” I move to the steps in front of us, sitting on the top one and unzipping my guitar.
Melanie bites her lip, pausing for a moment before finally sitting next to me. “Well, what are we going to play?”
“‘Every Song,’ of course.” I grin, strumming the first few chords. I play through the first verse with no words, waiting for Melanie to get comfortable with the idea of singing in front of a crowd. “Come on,” I murmur in her ear. “You have a beautiful voice, and no one is even paying attention.”
I strum a little louder as I approach the second verse. The sound of my guitar gets the attention of the twenty-somethings, and a few of them move toward us, lingering on the benches just outside the gazebo.
“Oh my god,” Melanie says under her breath, tensing beside me.
I turn and whisper in her ear. “How will you do this in a few weeks if you can’t do it now?” I let my breath linger on her ear for a second before I move into the intro again. Melanie’s voice catches me by surprise.
As soon as she starts singing, attention turns to us. Several in the group of women, who I’ve now figured out is a bachelorette party, whip out their phones and start recording. When Melanie notices, she glances at me, but she doesn’t falter.
I join her in harmony on the chorus, taking the third verse for myself. By the final chorus, we’re grinning at each other, singing together, looking into each other’s eyes. I’ve forgotten everyone around me but Melanie.
We sing the last line in unison. As soon as the note ends, the crowd of onlookers erupts into cheers. Mel and I wave and smile, but we don’t move to play anything else.
“See, you did it,” I say, giving her a peck on the lips. “It gets easier every time.”
We’re immediately interrupted by an excited voice. “Oh my gosh, it is you. You’re Josh Cote.”
I slowly turn my gaze from Melanie to find the bachelorette herself, two friends gathered on either side of her. Their faces could only be described as starstruck.
“In the flesh,” I say, grinning. “This is Melanie.”
The woman gives Mel the once over before turning her attention back to me. “I’m Maddie and I’m getting married next week. I cannot believe I’m seeing Josh Cote on my bachelorette weekend!”
A chuckle escapes me, and I wave my hand dismissively. “Trust me, I’m nobody.”
“He’s humble,” Melanie chimes in.
“We’re huge fans. We’re here from Tennessee!” another girl chimes in. “We’ve seen you play on Broadway a whole bunch.”
“This is April,” Maddie juts her thumb in the direction of the girl who spoke last. “And this is Olivia.” She gestures to her other friend.
“Can we take a selfie?” Olivia asks, eagerly.
I sling my arm over Melanie’s shoulder and give her a reassuring smile. “Of course,” I say. The girls turn and crouch in front of us, Maddie holding up her arm in an effort to get the shot. It’s not lost on me that Mel’s face gets cut out.
“So, are you guys a duo now?” Maddie asks eagerly.
“Something like that,” I say, planting a kiss on the side of Mel’s head. She looks uncomfortable, but she wasn’t until these girls showed up.
Maddie and her friends start to move away. “Thanks for the photo. You made my weekend!”
“You’re welcome.” I grin with a nod.
“Oh, and I was really sorry to hear about you and Keira. I thought you made such a cute couple,” she whines. “I saw she’s engaged now.” Maddie makes a face as if she’s trying to poke the bear.
I don’t take the bait. “Wasn’t meant to be.
” I shrug, sensing this conversation going in a different direction than I’d like.
Standing, I move to put my guitar back in its bag, still feeling the women’s eyes on me.
I turn back to them. “It was nice meeting you girls—have fun.” Then I turn to Melanie who has gone still, caving into herself.
“Ready, baby?” I murmur, tipping her chin to meet my gaze.
I hope she gets my message: It’s you and me.
This seems to snap Melanie out of it. “Yeah,” she says, standing, wiping her hands on her shorts. “It was nice meeting you girls.”
* * *
“You good?” I ask Mel on our walk back, concern laced in my voice.
Melanie gives me an almost sad smile. “Yeah, I’m good,” she says. “I just…sometimes forget you’re Josh Cote. You’ll always be just Josh to me.”
My chest constricts. “I will always be just Josh,” I say, stopping to look at her.
“You don’t know that,” Mel says, shaking her head. “You have star power.”
I suck in a breath and reach to tuck a hair behind her ear. I’m not sure what to say. She’s right, I don’t know that for sure. But all it has taken is half a summer with Melanie for me to realize that fame and fortune may not be what I want anymore.
Then
Josh –
I’m sorry I had to bail tonight. I know you’re disappointed.
An under 21 open mic night doesn’t come around often, but I know it’ll be successful and they will do it again.
I just don’t feel well at all and I’m afraid I’d get up on the stage and puke.
Please say you aren’t mad at me??? I know you’ll do great.
Tell Cara to take pictures for me. I’m so sorry again.
I love you. I mean it.
Mel
Mel –
It was so awesome. The only thing missing was you.
It made me realize I definitely have to go to Nashville.
There’s no other way around it. Maybe I can take a gap year and try to make it down there before my parents force me to go to college.
I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life. This is it for me.
I’m sorry you weren’t there. I hope you’re feeling better now.
Josh