30. Clover
THIRTY
Clover
My entire body is trembling as I step up to the edge of the stage, about to go on.
“Thank you everyone for coming out tonight!” Rosie calls out, and I do my best to smile despite the way I can feel my pulse in my throat. “You’re in for a treat, folks, because returning for another showstopper after her success at the fair is Clover Joy! Everyone give her a big hand!”
The crowd claps, and while the applause isn’t booming, it’s definitely there. Several eyes turn toward me as I force myself forward and onto the stage.
“Hey there, everyone.” I run my eyes over the crowd as I take the microphone off the stand. “I’ve got a few songs prepared for you, and they’re meant to get you up on your feet and dancing. So don’t be shy.”
Says the woman who’s about to have a panic attack from just speaking to the room.
But I settle myself, take a deep breath, and then my eyes find Brooks’s again. Something about having him to focus on makes the nerves bearable. I’m able to focus on his gorgeous hazel stare and nothing else.
The music starts up behind me, a few local musicians playing the instrumentals, and I begin to sing “Jackson,” the guitarist offering supporting vocals.
I’m pleasantly surprised when a bunch of people get up from the chairs and start dancing. It’s not many, but as the set progresses, more and more people get to their feet and start lighting up the dance floor.
I took Rosie’s suggestions on song choices, and fuck, am I glad I did. These are the right kind of tunes to get the local “country folk” moving. Though, I did slip in a few of my favorites in the set list of ten total songs.
“Thank you!” I smile, giving a little bow as people actually cheer. “But we’re not done yet! Here’s a chance to catch your breath before we hit the ground running again.”
The music for the ballad starts, and like they have been all night, my eyes find the table off to the right near the front, where my family is watching.
My family…Brooks and Darby. I think they count at this point.
The gentle tune has couples slow dancing, and I don’t look away from Brooks as I croon the romantic words. My heart is so damned full, and I know that I have him to thank.
I’ve wanted to perform like this for so long, and if it weren’t for Brooks’s encouragement, I was going to tell Rosie no.
My mind goes everywhere and nowhere as I sing, lost in the words but remembering how badly I wanted to do this when I was young. Hell, I’d dreamed of being signed by a label.
Though, I’ll admit. This? This intimate setting, where I can see people dancing, enjoying themselves, I think it’s way better than some pop star lifestyle.
Making people happy with the power of music is the actual dream. That and to bring joy to the people closest to me.
Brooks grins as I finish up, and he’s the first to start clapping, just like he has been all night, evening beating my dad.
God, I love how supportive he is.
My stomach clenches as we take a brief break between songs. I used the L word. Even if it was only in my head, I felt the impact.
I’m not sure what to do with that.
Regardless, I don’t have the time to dwell on it because the show must go on, and I finish out the set, floating on cloud nine by the time it’s done.
The crowd cheers for me as I take a bow, and my pulse is through the roof—adrenaline and joy and relief all swirling together.
Things calm down, and I walk to the side of the stage where Rosie is waiting for me, a huge grin plastered on her face. She gives me a big hug as I step off.
“You did so good!” Rosie bounces up and down a little. “I’m so proud of you! Please say you’ll do this again.”
Sticking out her bottom lip in a faux pout, Rosie clutches her hands together in front of her chest.
“You know,” I smile, looking out over the crowd and seeing Brooks again, Darby waving frantically as he stands in his seat, “I think I will.”
Rosie claps her hands together, smiling as big as the sun. “Fantastic! Ugh, yay! I will book you for another performance right away. This is going to be so damn…fantastic!”
All I can do is laugh, and when I can finally leave the stage area, all I want to do is run to Brooks and throw my arms around his neck. My dad is right there, though, so I fight back the urge, promising myself to give in to it when we’re back home.
Running happily over to them, I hug my dad first, squeezing him tightly as he gushes over me. Darby is next, practically throwing himself at me, and then I’m treated to an amazing high-five from him that leaves my palm stinging.
“Ow, dang, buddy! That was intense!” He laughs, and I ruffle his hair as I smile up at Brooks. “You’re one lucky duck, too. You’re up way past your bedtime.”
He grins, beginning to tell me about a Kiddy Cocktail that sounds like more cherries than anything else.
“You want me to get you a drink?” Brooks asks, and I look over at him, so damn grateful.
“Ugh, yes, please. That sounds amazing.”
“Go on, honey.” Dad pats my shoulder. “Go get your drink. We’ll be right here.”
I smile, always impressed by how well my dad can read me. He knows I need to step away and catch my breath after all this excitement.
“Thanks.” I turn to Brooks, gesturing at the bar. “Alright, sir, buy me some booze.”
He rolls his eyes and chuckles, leading the way. When we get to the bar, both of us leaning on the wooden edge, the bartender takes my order—just a beer and a water because my throat needs all the moisture after singing all night.
“Hahaha, that play at ‘country?’ Are you kidding me?”
My spine goes rigid, and I cast a glance behind Brooks, where two women are talking. If you could be the epitome of small-town royal, these two exude that in spades.
He doesn’t seem to hear them, or at least, he isn’t paying attention. But I am.
“I know, right? Like, come on. We see right through you, Ms. City Girl.”
The comment confirms my suspicions well enough, but it’s when they see me looking at them and quickly glance away that really does it.
They were talking about me.
My stomach goes sour, and when my beer and water are delivered, I don’t reach for them right away. Memories I’d rather keep buried flood to the surface, and with them, all the insecurities and self-consciousness from when I quit singing.
“Umm, you know,” I shake my head, looking up at Brooks, “I’m really tired. Do you think it’d be okay if we just went home? I know Darby has to get to bed, too.”
“What?” Brooks furrows his brow, regarding me. “We just got your drink.”
“I know, I’m just not, umm, feeling super well all of a sudden. It’s probably best if we leave.”
Cocking his head, Brooks sets the drinks down and faces me head-on. Lowering his head, he studies my face, and I’m utterly unable to hide how upset I am, tears brimming to the surface.
"Lucky, what’s going on?” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Did something happen?”
Every part of me wants to just brush this off. I should just go home and never think about performing again. But there’s something about the way that Brooks looks at me that has the words tumbling from my mouth.
“Umm,” I glance over his shoulder at the two women who are still whispering under their breath to each other, “I think they were talking about me. I feel really uncomfortable now, and?—”
Brooks spins around, noting the pair of “mean girls” in plaid. Without another word, he walks right up to them, and I’ve officially left this earth, my cheeks on fire.
“Did you two have something you wanted to say?” He addresses them, and the women’s eyes go wide.
“We didn’t—” One begins, but Brooks cuts her off.
“Didn’t mean to be overheard? Yeah, I had a feeling. If you have something you’d like to say about Clover, I encourage you to do it now.”
They stare up at him, totally silent. Both women can only manage eye contact for a few moments, reeking of guilt now that they’ve been caught.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing, though, and I can’t bring myself to move, just watching Brooks stand up to them.
“Yeah, you don’t want to say anything now that you’ve been called out, huh? It’s extremely disrespectful to make assumptions about Clover and knowingly talk trash about her when she’s in earshot. Keep your opinions to yourself, or I’ll have no problem ensuring you’re kicked out.”
Like dogs with their tails between their legs, the women turn on their heels and duck out of the bar in a hurry. When Brooks comes back over to me, I am utterly flabbergasted.
“I…you just…” I can’t find the words, and my cheeks burn as I stare up at him.
“Don’t mention it.” Brooks turns the corners of his mouth down. “It’s no problem. Now, let's enjoy these drinks.”
A laugh bursts out of me, but I follow Brooks back to the table. I’m still shocked by all that, but he’s right. We should enjoy these drinks—and the night just like we planned.
“There’s my singer!” My dad smiles, gesturing at the chairs, and Brooks and I take our seats next to each other around the small table.
Dad is across from me with Darby next to him, so when I get comfortable in the chair, my knee brushes against Brooks’s. I just clear my throat, refocusing so that I’m entirely focused on the conversation.
It seems to be a futile attempt, however. I can’t stop thinking about how Brooks just stood up for me like that and how close to me he is, my body silently calling out for the person that makes it feel so good.
You got this, Clover. Just drink your beer and make the small talk. Come on.
It’s going…alright when Brooks’s hand lands on my thigh beneath the table. I snap my gaze to him quickly, but the asshole is just looking ahead, talking to my dad like nothing’s happening.
I have to force myself to not glare at him or to allow the shock to play on my face.
You jerk. You’re going to get me in trouble.
As discreetly as I can, I start to shoo Brooks’s hand away, but all that serves to do is give Brooks my hand, which he takes firmly, lacing his fingers through mine.
The heat of his palm warms mine, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the contact. But this is risky as hell! What does Brooks think he’s doing?
My cheeks are burning again, this “going behind someone’s back” thing is not a strong suit of mine. Still, I’m not exactly trying hard to take my hand back, now am I?
Nope, I’m squeezing Brooks right back, unable to let go for anything in the world.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just have our hands on the table?
The thought takes me a little by surprise, but who am I kidding? I’ve been thinking about a proper relationship with Brooks for a while now.
I can’t stop myself from wondering what it would be like if we were just…together, living on the farm, me and Brooks and Darby.
A happy little family.
“Admit it,” my dad’s voice cuts through my thoughts, “you liked that a bit more than managing business portfolios in New York.”
Trying to remain steady, I shrug a little with a smirk. “It wasn’t half bad.”
Because remember, Clover. You have a business back there. How are you supposed to pull the plug on that? Is that really what you want?
Confusion hits hard, familiar and annoying. When I sip my beer, it’s not fast enough to provide the mind-numbing buzz I’d like right now.