Chapter Fourteen #2
CLASS AFTER CLASS AFTER CLASS, Matt and Master Joe worked with Christine on self-defense.
She had not only signed up for the three-month course and taken every class available to a beginner but also paid for private instruction.
She needed to fast-track her progress. Her private classes with Joe and Matt were her favorites.
Tonight, they were doing their best to challenge her.
Master Joe grabbed her from behind in a choke hold. While he wasn’t really choking her, his grip wasn’t light either. Her stomach tightened as a slight panic took over.
“Come on, Christine. You know what to do,” Matt said. He was standing beside her, watching each move she made.
She raised her right arm, spun her body toward Master Joe, and brought her arm under both of Joe’s arms, pinning them in the crook of her elbow. She raised her knee to his groin without touching him. Joe faked like he’d been hit and bent forward. She raised her knee to his face.
“Perfect,” Matt said. He patted her on the back, and she beamed.
“But you can’t hesitate. You must move fast. If an attacker gets any indication you’re going to fight back, they’ll tighten their grip. The element of surprise is your advantage,” Joe said.
Christine nodded. She had hesitated. Mere seconds could be the difference between life and death.
“Let’s try another one,” Matt said. He put her in a mugger’s hold. He held her tightly from behind with one hand over her mouth, the other arm across her torso. She couldn’t move backward or forward. But she could move side to side, which is what she’d been taught to do.
She stepped to the left, forcing him to loosen his grasp, and swung her right fist back into his groin. She didn’t mean to make contact, but she was still a beginner and hadn’t learned complete control of her movements. Matt dropped to his knees, cupping his groin.
Master Joe roared. “Now you know it works. And Matt knows not to forget his athletic cup.”
Matt rolled on the floor, groaning. Christine dropped down next to him and put her hand over his. Now her hand was one hand away from holding his groin.
“Need me to leave you two alone for a minute?” Joe said, his eyes twinkling.
Christine pulled her hand back.
Matt moaned. “I couldn’t do anything sexual if I tried right now.”
“I’m so sorry, Matt,” Christine said.
“Nope. Don’t apologize. I will remember to wear a cup next time. Great execution there, Christine.” He sat up and took some deep breaths. “I think I’ll call it a night for this lesson.”
Christine felt horrible. She still felt bad when she got home and texted him an apology: I’m sorry for not having better control.
Matt texted back. All good. But the next time you touch me there, be gentle. He included a laughing emoji.
Christine’s eyes flew open. She read the text and reread it. Was he teasing? Or was he giving her a hint? And how could she know the difference? The laughing emoji made her think he was just joking with her.
She sent back a winky face and texted, No guarantees!
If he could be fun, so could she.
THE BOX OF OLD CASSETTES HAD proved to have some real gems. Not only had she sent some to Austin, but she had also discovered a song that would be great for Lynda. She’d had to convince her to try it.
“It’s very Loretta Lynn,” Lynda had argued.
“Speed it up, add your electric guitar, and make it yours. See if you don’t hear it like I am,” Christine said.
Lynda took her advice and performed it at a few shows around town.
She hadn’t recorded it yet, but there was already a buzz on it running through the Nashville community.
Getting a nod from your creative peers meant everything to an artist. Whenever she performed the song, Lynda credited Christine for finding it and convincing her to play it.
It wasn’t often the non-creative team got recognition, but it was a gift when they did.
WHEN AUSTIN’S NEW TOUR STARTED, he called Christine and asked her to go back on the road with him.
“Austin, how can you ask me that?”
“How can I not?”
“Does my safety mean nothing to you?”
“It means everything to me. I’ve thought a lot about it, and I don’t want to leave you behind in Nashville. You’ll be safer moving around the country with me than staying home.”
“I doubt that,” Christine said, giving a huff.
“Whoever it is clearly lives in Nashville. Nobody will touch you out on tour. I’ll make sure of it. I have security around me at all times at the venues.” Austin’s tone had become pleading.
“Nothing has happened since the note weeks ago. If I stay away from you, I’m safe. Going out on the road doesn’t feel like the right decision.”
“Just one run. The first week. We can listen to new songs, and you can pitch me anything you want. Maybe I’ll cut three of yours,” Austin said, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“Now you’re playing dirty. You know too much.”
“Yep, and I will use it to my advantage,” Austin said.
He had a point about her stalker being in Nashville. She’d never received one note or threat anywhere outside of Nashville. She probably was safer on tour.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE CONSIDERING IT,” Julianna said later that afternoon, kicking back in Christine’s office.
“I’m nuts, right?”
“Pretty much. You know the crazies will cyberbully you again. You’ll be trending. Again.”
“I know. But I feel like flipping the bird to the haters. I’m tired of living in fear. Hell, I haven’t even gone back to the Bluebird in months. And I love songwriters’ nights. Maybe if I show strength, they’ll back off.”
“You believe that?” Julianna asked.
“I have to. Otherwise, I would never leave my apartment. I can’t become agoraphobic over this. I have to hold on to something, and I’m trusting that this person isn’t out to harm me but just harass me.”
“God, I hope you’re right.”
“Me, too, Julianna. Me, too.”
Christine berated herself the entire time she packed her bags, questioning her sanity for going on the road.
But the minute she climbed onto the bus, she felt like she was right where she belonged.
The guys were watching Vikings . She smiled.
These were her people, and she’d missed them.
She couldn’t go back to life before she knew them, and she didn’t want to.
She dropped her bags and squeezed between Cat and Kennedy, her eyes not leaving the TV.
“You watch Vikings ?” Kennedy asked.
“I watch Bj?rn Ironside,” Christine said. “Hot-tie!”
Austin walked up from the back of the bus and saw her. “Chrissy!”
She stood, a little reluctant to be pulled away from the show. Austin grabbed her in a bear hug. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said, noticing that Matt was standing behind Austin. “All of you.”
“Give someone else a chance, Austin,” Matt said, hugging Christine and sending chills down her back . . . and her front.
“We’ve all missed you,” Cat said.
“Thanks, guys. I can’t let fear rule my life.”
“We’ll keep you safe,” Kennedy said. “We all have your back.”
“As long as none of you jokers have her front. Or you’ll have me to answer to,” Austin said.
“Party pooper,” Cat said.
Matt helped Christine put her bags in her bunk.
“Are you sure you’re okay in the upper bunk? You can have mine,” Matt said, pointing to his lower bunk.
Christine felt daring. What was some harmless flirting? “Will you be in it?”
Matt looked behind him. “Austin would kill me,” he said.
“Kill you for what?” Austin asked, walking up beside them.
“Shacking up with your song plugger,” Matt said.
“Yep. I’d probably cause you bodily harm,” Austin said.
“Am I never going to get laid?” Christine said.
“Not on this bus, you’re not,” Austin said.
Christine rolled her eyes and Matt snickered.
“We’ll let you get settled in,” Austin said, heading to the back lounge while Matt went to the front.
Christine stored her luggage and put her purse where she could easily reach it.
She tried to keep all her stuff in her bunk, reasoning that if everyone kept their personal items sitting out, nobody would be able to move.
There was only so much open space on a tour bus.
She heard music coming from the back lounge and saw the door was cracked. She peered in. Austin and another guy were sitting on the couches, playing their guitars. Austin looked up and motioned her in.
“Do you two know each other?” he asked. “Christine Matthews, this is Ryan Geoffries.”
“I certainly know of you,” Christine said, extending her hand. “I love your writing. Your lyrics have depth, and your syncopated backbeats are unique.”
“Thank you. I’ve been very lucky. And Austin tells me great things about you. Our songs only go so far without someone out there playing them for the artists.”
Christine blushed.
“Sit in for a few minutes and watch the process,” Austin said.
Christine sat down, eyes wide and ears tuned in as she listened to Austin and Ryan work through guitar riffs, tempos, and chord structures before settling on a melody.
Then they started putting their thoughts into phrases and matching them to the notes.
She was witnessing a song come to life. She thought of a seed and how, once planted and watered, it would grow into a flower. Writing a song was a similar process.
Her phone chimed and she silenced it. She felt it vibrate and ignored it. Then she saw Julianna’s photo show up on the screen. Being a part of the texting generation, she knew Julianna would only call if it was serious.
Christine stood and backed out of the room, making as little noise as possible. Austin and Ryan were deep into their collaboration and didn’t look up.
“Hey, Julianna. What’s up?”
“Get off that bus now,” Julianna said, her voice tight and urgent.
“Why?”
“There are some massive threats all over Austin’s socials. You’re in danger. And it won’t matter if you’re on the road or in Nashville. Get off that bus and go home.”