Chapter 3
Anson slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a car in The Depot’s parking lot. He waved an apology to the other driver. Frustration and regret had him all over the place tonight.
He hadn’t realized until their meeting earlier that Blaze noted who attended shows.
Considering the teary end of that conversation, he shouldn’t be here.
But his girlfriend was inside, and she was one of the few people he could tell about his meeting with Eric.
Besides, he might get a minute between sets to smooth things over with Blaze.
He pulled into a spot, grabbed his keys, and headed in.
The Depot was owned by Many Oaks’ one-and-only claim to fame, celebrity couple Philip and Michaela Miller.
After growing up in Many Oaks, Philip made a name for himself with the rock band Awestruck.
When he left the music industry, he returned home and transformed the abandoned train station into a restaurant and music venue.
His pop star wife toured regularly while Philip played a few times a week with the house band.
Rumor had it, Blaze heard The Signalmen early on and pitched the idea of singing with them. Ever since, the marquee out front advertised Blaze and The Signalmen’s bi-weekly performances. She was so dedicated that she’d taken the stage alone once when the flu sidelined the rest of the band.
She’d been mesmerizing.
Yet the woman couldn’t get herself to church on time to save her life.
Then again, was Anson’s annoyance over her tardiness any better than Eric’s emphasis on numbers?
Maybe next time it was his turn to preach, he ought to expound on valuing the heart over outcomes.
Not that the Lord would want him bashing ideas from the pulpit when he didn’t fully understand the board’s decision—or its implications.
Responses trump reactions every time, Coach Voss used to say.
The restaurant’s dining room occupied the front half of The Depot. Even from there, Blaze’s voice beckoned him onward. A bar separated the restaurant from the music hall, and he squeezed between the people clustered around it.
While he waited for a bartender to finish up with other customers, he surveyed the music hall. Waitstaff navigated the tables at the back of the cavernous room. Families finished up late dinners. A handful of others dotted the dance floor. On stage, Blaze belted out a pop cover.
Since their meeting, she’d changed into a cropped tank top that skimmed the high waist of her jeans. Her rings and necklaces glinted under the stage lights. Her thick, wavy hair shimmered with every move.
Why did she claim her potential in some areas—like singing here—while leaving so much on the table in others? Worship team would be an easy fit for her, but she never stepped forward.
“The usual?” The bartender was already filling a glass with soda.
Anson nodded and turned his attention back to the room. He spotted his girlfriend’s sleek brown ponytail over at their usual table. She sat with a few of their friends.
Closer to him, at a bar-height table, perched a young girl with long dark hair and thick glasses. Mercy. She swung her feet as she took a pull of her milkshake. Two women shared her small table.
He’d handled Mercy’s little field trip the way he would with any student. He hadn’t realized she’d spend an hour crying over it.
“Here you go.” The bartender handed Anson his soda.
He paid and made a wide circle around Mercy’s table to where Sydney sat with her friends Madison and Honor.
Honor’s boyfriend, Jimmy, lifted his nearly-empty whisky tumbler toward Anson. “He’s a man,” he croaked over Blaze’s smooth tones. “He’ll understand.”
Honor’s shoulder lifted as she shifted away from her boyfriend. Sydney flicked a warning glance to Anson.
Another glass sat empty on the table by Jimmy’s seat. Anson wouldn’t come to The Depot if he begrudged others the occasional drink, but the show had started twenty minutes ago. Jimmy was moving fast.
Anson slid his arm along the back of Sydney’s chair as he took his seat. “I doubt I’ll agree, but you can try me.”
Jimmy scoffed, finished his drink, and stalked off.
“What was that about?” He looked to Honor for an answer, but she dropped her gaze.
Sydney tipped her head closer. “His boss promoted a woman over him. He thinks he’s better qualified.”
“He does have seniority.” Honor pinned her arms to her sides, hands under her thighs, as she peered after her boyfriend.
“And nothing else.” Madison glared toward the bar and tsked. “And now he’s messing with the Lions.”
Anson twisted. Jimmy elbowed his way between two of Anson’s former high school basketball teammates.
A bus accident their senior year had taken Coach Voss’s life and branded everyone on the team in the minds of the community.
A decade after they’d hung up the jerseys with the mascot, the people of Many Oaks still called them Lions, especially when they were together like David and Sterling were now.
Sydney elbowed him.
Jimmy wouldn’t appreciate Anson interfering, but the night would only grow more uncomfortable the more the guy drank. Anson pushed his seat away from the table. “Be right back.”
Nearing the bar, he nodded to his teammates. They shifted to let him join Jimmy, who was shouting greetings to men on the other side of the bar. Jimmy’s attention drifted up to the big screen.
“Rough day?” Anson asked.
Jimmy’s glassy eyes cut to him. “I thought you didn’t understand.”
“I heard about the job. I understand disappointment.” Even more so after the day he’d had.
“It’s discrimination.” Jimmy’s attention returned to the screen. “Hiring women just because they’re nice to look at in meetings.”
Anson tensed. The female bartender cocked her head. Jimmy had better watch out unless he wanted spit in his drink.
He prayed for wiser words than he’d spoken to Blaze earlier. “That’s where you lose me. Disappointment’s one thing. Blame’s another. You could trust that management had good reasons.”
“And you could get lost.” Jimmy pounded his fist on the bar. “How hard is it to pour a whiskey?”
“You sure another one’s a good idea?”
Jimmy angled toward him, chest puffed up. “I can tell you what isn’t a good idea.”
Anson kept his arms down and his posture open, hoping if he didn’t pose a threat, Jimmy wouldn’t get physical. “Everyone back at the table’s pretty uncomfortable. Maybe it’s time to slow down.”
The bartender delivered a short glass of amber liquid. Jimmy swiped it up. “I’ll slow down when you mind your own business.” He lifted his glass in a mocking toast and swallowed a hearty gulp before he ambled toward the men on the other side of the bar.
Honor might not appreciate this solution, but she deserved a better boyfriend. Maybe a little distance tonight would help her see that.
As Anson stepped from the bar, Mercy glanced at him, then hunched over her milkshake. Regret stepped up like a bouncer intent on preventing him from returning to Sydney. He couldn’t pass by as he became the reason faith communities triggered feelings of shame in a student.
As he approached Mercy, voices lifted behind him—one of them Jimmy’s. But he was the bartender’s problem now.
He recognized one of the women with Mercy. Marissa, David’s little sister, had moved back to town a couple of weeks ago. She must know Blaze if she was babysitting. As he stepped up to the table, she flashed a lackluster smile.
Her companion gave him the once over. “Well, hello.”
Marissa chuckled. “Don’t get too excited. This is the pastor.”
“Oh.” The other woman’s gaze flicked between him and Mercy. Everybody at the table must know about the service project. They might as well watch him mend fences.
He turned to Mercy with what he hoped was a disarming smile. “I owe you an apology.”
She hunched deeper into her seat and froze.
“I’m sorry for embarrassing you.”
After a peek at him, Mercy resumed kicking one foot. “It’s okay.”
“I hope you’ll come to Rooted this fall.”
Marissa rubbed her back but kept her focus on Anson. “Does that mean you’re going to let Blaze help lead?”
The gnawing regret returned. He’d meant to offer Blaze sympathy, not criticize her parenting, if that term even applied when one sister had custody of the other.
The song ended, and Blaze slipped her mic into its stand.
“We have an anniversary in the crowd tonight. Candy, Mike tells us your song is ‘I Swear.’ This one’s for you two love birds.
” She’d spoken like a litigator in his office but now crooned the announcement, smooth and sweet.
She stole a sip from her water bottle, then The Signalmen started the classic 90s song.
A gasp yanked Anson’s attention from the stage. Marissa lifted her hands as a stain bloomed across her top. Jimmy braced himself using their table, an empty glass in his grasp. He must’ve stumbled and spilled.
“Sorry, man.” A guy from a neighboring table tucked in his chair and headed away.
“Should watch out,” Jimmy muttered as he rubbed his face.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Marissa’s upper lip curled. “Get out of here.”
Jimmy pushed away, and Anson steadied the wobbling table. But then Jimmy ran into Mercy’s chair. A corner of the seat stabbed Anson’s thigh as her hands swung over the table. The milkshake went flying. The stool tilted to an impossible angle, as did Jimmy.
Anson grabbed the chair, but Jimmy caught hold of the seat too. The man’s weight wrenched the chair from Anson’s grasp.
Mercy went down with a scream.