Chapter 34
In an old blue T-shirt and a pair of black jeans, Dade Connery is exactly what I imagined him to be.
Tall and fit, with golden brown hair that’s thinning a bit on top, but is still long enough to fall just over his aging eyes; bright blue eyes that still hold a little youthful charm.
They certainly seem to work on the young woman standing with him, a woman easily half his age.
Actually, better halve that number, too.
Damn.
What a legend.
“Dade!” Donny Blue says as we walk in. “Got some kids here who want to meet ya.”
Dade peeks over, clearly not wanting to abandon the jailbait giving him all sorts of attention, but he waves us over while nudging her away. She leaves with a giggle, unbothered, and goes to join the other ladies lounging on the couch.
Donny approaches him and gets close enough to whisper something in his ear. After a moment, Dade nods and gives us a smile.
“Hello,” he says, his deep voice tinged with a slight southern drawl. “How are you, folks?”
Jordan steps forward. “Mr. Connery,” she says, extending her hand. “We’ve met briefly before, but I’m?—”
“Ms. Peck,” he says, apprehensively taking her hand. “Oh, yes. I remember you.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replies, accepting the compliment I’m sure is buried in there somewhere. “I’d like you to meet Harvey Moon.”
With my knees weak and my throat clenched, I step forward and extend my hand. “Mr. Connery,” I say, somehow, “it’s an honor to meet you. I’m a big fan.”
“Oh, please. Call me Dade.”
He shakes my hand; a hand that’s written hundreds of incredible songs. I tighten my grip on it, hoping I don’t actually seem as weak as I feel at this moment.
“Dade,” I say.
He sits back on the edge of the desk. “How can I help you today, Harvey?”
“Oh. Well…” I take a breath and hold it. “I just want to say thank you.”
“For what?” he asks, amused.
“Just... for everything you’ve ever done in your entire life.”
Dade laughs. “Well, son. You’re welcome.”
Son!
He called me son!
“So, you’re a musician,” he says, twisting to grab a clipboard off the desk behind him.
“Yes, sir,” I answer. “I’m currently opening for Criminal Records on tour. The Break the Rules Tour.”
He makes an impressed noise. “That’s a good gig for a newcomer.”
“It’s definitely changed my life, sir,” I say in agreement.
“How’d you land that?”
“A contest, actually,” I say. “There was a contest back in Chicago — where I’m from. At a radio station. I won.”
Jordan tilts forward. “He was the best one out there,” she says, giving me a wink.
I smile at her, a silent thank you for stopping me from rambling on too much.
“When’s your slot?” Dade asks.
“My slot?” I repeat.
“In the festival.”
“Oh, I’m not in the festival.”
He looks up from his clipboard. “I see.”
“I’m just here with the band. We have a show later tonight, though. At the?—”
“Liana,” he says, snapping his fingers twice at the girls on the couch. “Bring me my guitar, would you?”
The one who answers to Liana hops up off the couch and picks up an acoustic leaning against the wall that I somehow didn’t notice before.
My mouth sags open.
Dade notices. “You know this guitar,” he says.
“Uh…” I watch with wide eyes as Liana carefully hands it to him. “Yes, sir. That’s…” A chuckle escapes my throat. “That’s Rapture.”
Holding it loosely, he gives her a strum. “A-plus, son.”
“Custom made,” I continue from memory. “The body is made of Adirondack Spruce and Brazilian Rosewood. Really top-notch stuff.”
Dade nods, impressed, while Donny releases a quiet chuckle.
“Mahogany neck,” I keep going. “Gold tuners. Ebony bridge. It’s worth… twenty thousand dollars?” I add with a laugh. “Or so I read.”
“That’s about what I paid for it, yeah.” Dade smirks. “But she’s worth a whole lot more now.”
I think of all the songs he wrote on her and nod. “Yeah, I bet.”
Dade grips Rapture by the neck, her beautiful body hanging downward, and extends her toward me. “Play something.”
It takes a moment for me to realize what he said… and that he said it to me. “I’m sorry?” I ask.
“That’s why you’re here, right?” he says. “Heard through the vine I’m recruiting for a not-so-secret album?”
“Oh, no, sir! I’m just a fan.”
“You do know how to play a guitar, right?”
“Yes, sir. I do, but I couldn’t…” I keep my hands at my sides. “I mean, this guitar is?—”
“Made to be played.”
“That… is true. But not by me. I’m not worthy.”
“You made it through the door, Harvey,” he says, spelling it out for me. “Now, play me something.”
I look at August and Jordan, wondering if this is just a dream. August nudges my arm, urging me to take the guitar, while Jordan simply smiles proudly.
This is actually happening.
Okay, buddy.
If there ever was a time to be cool, it’s right fucking now.
I steady my hand and reach for the guitar — for Rapture, I mean. Better call her by name and treat her with the respect she deserves.
Holy fuck, she feels incredible.
Dade motions toward the armchair behind me. He says nothing more, offers no further instruction other than to just do. And I don’t ask. I step toward the chair. I sit down, trying to steady my mind as I go.
Play something.
But what?
Sideways Serenadewould be a safe choice. It is my most popular song. People love Ride to Dawn, too. But those are the songs of Harvey Moon, Opening Act.
If you get the chance to shoot your shot in front of Dade Connery, you want it to be great. Not just good.
The girls giggle across the tent. I ignore them, choosing to focus on Jordan’s friendly smile and August’s beaming eyes instead. There’s also Donny standing slightly askew in a bored yet curious stance.
And then there’s Dade Connery’s furrowed brow and patient gaze.
Play something.
I take a breath, and that’s what I do.
I’ve practiced Blue Eyes so much over the last few days. The notes are fresh on my fingers. The lyrics, sitting at the front of my mind, are warm on my tongue. In the moments before, I wasn’t sure if I could even remember them, but I play them now as if it branded me. I remember everything, even the parts that weren’t set in stone flow from me like it was always there, just waiting for this moment to be played.
When I’m done, the tent is silent. The outside world is loud and alive with cheers for The Electrics on stage, but it’s nothing but wide eyes and smiles in here.
Dade speaks first. “Well, shit,” he says. “That was good, son.”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Thank you, sir.”
He gestures at Donny, who quickly heads toward the desk. “Listen, I’m having a little get-together next week at my place in Nashville.” Donny hands him an envelope. “Nothing fancy. Just a chance for me to get to know my new collaborators.” He holds the envelope out to me. “You should come.”
“I should?” I ask, frozen solid in my chair.
August lurches forward and takes the envelope. “Yes, sir. Absolutely. He’ll be there, sir.”
“I will?” I ask, shifting my gaze to Jordan as I suddenly can’t remember my middle name, let alone next week’s tour schedule.
Jordan smiles. “We’ll make it work,” she says.
My heart leaps.
We’ll make it work.
We’ll make it work so I can go to a get-together at Dade Connery’s place in Nashville, where he’ll get to know his collaborators.
Because I’m his collaborator.
Dade steps toward my chair. “You’ve got talent, Harvey,” he says. “No doubt about that.”
He holds out his hand for Rapture.
I push myself to stand and give her back, passing her slowly like the treasured historical artifact she is. “Thank you very much,” I say.
“Has Midnite signed you yet?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Well, Paul Monroe better get on that,” he says, scoffing. “Because if he doesn’t soon, someone else will.” He pats my shoulder twice and leaves his hand there as he walks with me toward the exit. “I’ll see you in Nashville.”
“Yes. Absolutely. And thank you again, sir. It was an honor playing for you.”
He merely chuckles as we push through the tent curtain outside.
Addison.
I spot her immediately, her eyes round and wide as she looks at me, then Dade, and back again. “Addison,” I say, inhaling sharply in surprise.
“Addison?”Jordan eagerly steps forward. “What are you doing here? You should be backstage.”
“Sorry,” Addison says, swallowing. “There was still a little time left, so I thought I’d find Harvey and then… I heard him singing…” She looks at me, then Dade, and back again. “I just wanted to tell you something, but it can wait.”
She moves to leave.
“No, hold on.” I take her by the hand. “You should meet him, too.”
She tries to pull away. “Harvey…”
I turn us back toward the tent. “Dade, have you met Addison Abbey from Criminal Records?” I ask.
Dade stares at her for a moment, then he nods stiffly. “Sure,” he says. “Hello again, Addison.”
Addison meets his bright blue eyes with her own.
“Hi, Dad.”