Chapter 19 Mia
My palms were sweating, and I was trying not to hyperventilate. I could do this, I had to do this, my whole entire career depended on being able to do this.
Reaching for the glass of water, I tried to hide the shake in my hand, but Wade grabbed my hand and squeezed.
“Girl, will you calm down?” Wade looked over his shoulder and turned back to me with a grin. “There is like, eight people here.”
Nodding, I bit my lip. “Mm-hmm.” The stage was at the bottom of the bar, raised on a small platform.
It housed a permanent drum kit, a piano, and a number of microphone stands.
The band brought their own amps and instruments, and all I had to do was stand and sing.
You could see the whole bar from the stage, and the whole bar could see us.
Me. I was starting to panic again. Wade, sensing this, handed me my water.
Wade was our friend from freshman year. He and Ava hit it off immediately, and we were all friends by the third week of college.
His band was a country rock band, but as Wade would tell anyone who listened to his woe, he was always looking for a lead singer.
Wade played bass guitar, and looking at him, country rock isn’t where your mind would go.
He had a faux mohawk, tattoos everywhere, and a new eyebrow piercing.
Alex, the former lead singer, had left the band recently to join a heavy metal cover group. Wade was distraught, and with Mom’s comments that I needed a job, the fact that Wade would pay me seventy-five dollars to sing in his band had sounded like a no-brainer.
Until I took into account the fact that I suffered from stage fright. I didn’t like to be the center of attention, and I knew when I told people the fact that I got stage fright and I was pursuing a music degree, they looked at me in surprise.
But I could sing, and I knew my voice was a good one.
Wade had heard me before and had relentlessly pursued me to sing in his band so much in freshman year that Ava had eventually had to step in and tell him to back off.
I’d avoided him for weeks before he hunted me down and apologized and promised he would never ask me again.
And he hadn’t until Saturday when he was drunk, and now, here I was, on stage, panicking as my eyes kept flickering out to the eight men in the bar.
“Mia, Mia, Mia,” Wade chanted as he pulled me into a hug. “What’s your favorite song to sing, ever?”
“‘Amazing Grace.’”
I heard Sticks, the drummer, snort, and Wade’s glare cut him down so fiercely I felt guilty.
“Okay. Shane?” Wade turned to the guitarist. “Do you know how to play ‘Amazing Grace’?”
Shane scratched his jaw as he thought about it. “No. But . . . I can pick up the rhythm from Mia singing.”
Wade was nodding. “Yeah, I haven’t played it in forever, but it’s G and D and . . .”
“A-seven,” I whispered.
Wade beamed at me. “See, you’re going to be fine. Sticks, just a steady soft beat.”
I grabbed Wade’s arm as he went to move away. “Stay beside me, in case I choke.”
“I am your new glue,” Wade promised me.
“Tell me how you talked me into this?” I asked him as I reached for my water again.
“Sheryl lets us practice on a Sunday. I remembered you saying about singing, and I phoned you, thinking you would say no, and you said yes.” Wade beamed at me, basically telling me it was all my own fault.
I’d been standing outside my boarded-up home, not able to get in and nowhere else to go. Wade had called to ask me, and singing on a Sunday afternoon sounded better than sitting on the stairs outside my apartment. What if the people who did this came back?
“‘Amazing Grace,’ Mia?” Wade prompted me as he took a step back, and I could see the bar, the people, and more importantly, the door.
“Hey, Mia, if you suck, ain’t nobody here gonna remember.”
I turned to look at Sticks, and he tipped his baseball hat to me. Shaking my head in despair at his “pep talk,” I turned back to the front.
“I can do this.”
“You can do this in your sleep,” Wade assured me.
“They’re just people.”
I saw Shane smother his laugh, and I didn’t care.
“And I have nice clean underwear on.” Okay, so maybe I should have kept that bit to myself as I suddenly had more of Shane’s attention than normal. Which was awkward since he had been so into Ava; he just hadn’t known a Devil had claimed her before poor Shane even met her.
“Okay . . . so I also have clean boxers on,” Wade told me, thinking he was encouraging me. “Shane?”
“Eh, yeah.” He was no longer hiding his grin.
“Sticks? You got clean underwear on?”
Sticks snorted again as he turned his baseball cap around. “Fuck no, ain’t worn boxers since I was fourteen. Gotta let the boys breathe.”
Shane leaned forward toward me. “Please, Mia, sing before he tells us anything else,” he pleaded.
“I’m ready.”
Wade started to play the melody softly, and I heard my cue as I looked at the eight men, who had all stopped talking and turned to look at the stage expectantly. I froze. Sixteen eyes were on me. Eighteen if you counted Sheryl behind the bar.
“Close your eyes,” Wade whispered as he pretended to fix his strap and began to play again.
Closing my eyes, I took a breath, and when I heard the intro, I opened my mouth, and a croaky squawk erupted from my mouth. My eyes flew open, but Wade moved into my vision, and his cheeks dimpled.
“Just feel it, Mia, it’s your favorite song,” he said. “You can sing it in your sleep.”
Rolling my head on my shoulders, I shook my arms out to loosen up.
“Again,” I instructed. “Slower.”
Wade stayed in front of me, and together we listened to the intro, and then when I opened my mouth this time, I sang the words as I had so many times before.
Wade stayed in front of me through the first verse, and as long as he was in front, with Shane to the side and the slight beat coming from Sticks, I could sing.
It really was my favorite song. Not a pop song, not a country song, but a song from my childhood, with words so simple and pure. It was the first song I fell in love with and the first one I learned all the words to.
I saw Wade move to the side, and I instantly closed my eyes to shut out the spectators, but I kept on singing.
I kept on singing.
When I was finished, I jumped when I heard the cheer, and my eyes flew open. The eight guys were on their feet, clapping, and I let out a startled laugh. Looking behind the bar, I saw Sheryl wipe her eyes, and with a huge smile, I turned to Wade.
“I did it! And Sheryl’s crying!”
“You almost made me cry,” Shane said gruffly. “Jesus, you can sing.”
Pressing my lips together to fight the giddiness, I couldn’t help it — I started laughing.
“Tell me what you want, Mia, I will play it, girl,” Wade said seriously. “If I can’t play it, I will learn it.”
“‘Precious Lord’?” I asked, and he nodded. “One more comfort song, and then we can maybe try something else.”
Again, he stood in front of me until I was through the first verse, and then he stepped away.
This time, my eyes remained open, and the customers were listening and watching with rapt attention.
But there were only eight of them, and they liked “Amazing Grace,” and they were so quiet I didn’t feel any fear.
When the last notes rang out, the men started to clap again, and I beamed back at them.
“You’re doing so well,” Wade encouraged me. “Tell me what you need.”
My hands had stopped shaking, and I was feeling good. “I like ‘Jungle,’” I said as I looked around at the others. “It’s not country rock, but can you play it?”
“I can,” Shane told me confidently. “I love X Ambassadors.”
After I finished that one, Wade handed me a piece of paper, and I saw some of their regular songs.
“I can do Kenny all day every day, and Johnny C, and the Eagles most definitely.” I was running through the list, and Wade was beaming at me.
And that was how I spent my Sunday afternoon, singing in Bar One with Wade and my friends, to complete strangers, and when eight customers grew to twelve and then twenty, I kept on going. When Wade told me it was the last one, I couldn’t believe it. I had sung in front of people, and I had fun.
As the guys started to pack up, I drank my water and kept giggling like a fool. Wade and Shane were talking excitedly amongst themselves as I sat and congratulated myself on my performance as I listened to them.
“You were good,” Sticks said as he came over and leaned against the wall beside me. “Like shit-hot good.”
Turning to him, I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Was I?”
“Yeah, pity you won’t last. We could actually be a decent band if you stuck with us.”
I lost some of my enthusiasm. “Well, I’m here now, and I think if we do what we did today, start small and familiar, I could do it again.”
Wade had heard me and was looking at me with too hopeful a look. “Seriously? Mia, tell me you aren’t playing with me.”
“Can we sing Cher?” I asked idly. “And some Tammy and Dolly?”
“Girl, we can sing whatever you want,” Sticks told me with a grin.
“Okay, but some other stuff too,” I said as I looked at the usual set list. “I mean, there are some I know well and some I’m going to have to learn.”
“And Wade writes music now,” Sticks added with a sly look at Wade. “And now we have someone truly beautiful to sing.”
“Stop hitting on Mia,” Wade scolded him. “No one is having sex with my singer.”
I shared a grin with Shane. “No one at all?” I teased Wade as I stood.
Wade sighed dramatically as he rolled his eyes. “No one in this band. Outside the band, let loose.”
“Gracious, you make me sound like a dog getting off the leash,” I joked. “Okay, what do I need to help with?”
“Wade?” We turned to look at Sheryl. She handed him a brown envelope. “For today.”
Wade took it but looked confused. “We were only practicing,” he said uncertainly.
“And it’s only a little something,” she replied. “But you sang those first songs so beautifully you made me cry,” she spoke to me.
“I’m sorry.” Was that a good thing? I wasn’t sure.