Chapter 26 #2
I got through a lot of thorns to be here. My eyes are misty, and Sam bear-hugs me right in the middle of the stage, knocking our hats off when we finish. It’s not as good as the twelve-string version, but I’ll always remember this.
“That was perfect, y’all!” I yell to the crowd, not believing how many sang along.
“All right, let’s start this party.” Sam retrieves his phone from his pocket. “Y’all have been busy! Let’s see here. You want songs about home and … water?” He looks at the kids in the front row with a silly face. “Then good vibes and family. All right, you got all that, Lu Lu?”
I flash a hang loose sign and grab a couple of waters while he talks about some upcoming events. He’s busy, and I think that’s the real reason he struggles with writing papers. I make a mental note to look at his schedule again.
“Come on, Lu Lu, let’s show ’em how much you love country music.”
“Sorry, y’all. I really don’t.” I shrug at the crowd.
“Okay, we’ll compromise.”
We do a Bon Jovi rock and country crossover, then he runs through a medley of one fast-paced country song after another before settling into an old hymn that sounds suspiciously like bluegrass.
I keep his water and towel handy but mostly stay behind him.
Somehow, I know every song he plays, so I know when to pop in and when to get off the tracks, because he’s a freight train when he gets going like this.
He finally comes up for air and moves to the keyboard to play “Drift Away” and part of a Crowder song we like. The kids indulge us, dancing around to our favorite “Girl From Tennessee,” and somehow, he aligns all our favorites with random words from the request comments.
Sam’s eyes shift to Carla on the side of the stage. She’s holding his phone, while he’s been using mine for requests. He pulls away from the mic and tells her, “Go live on this one.”
What? No!
Dang it.
Breathe.
“@LJ.baby_brooks wants to hear family songs. I do have the best family. And what Baby Girl wants, Baby Girl gets. Here ya go, Glow Worm.”
He’s creating a monster, giving my little sister so much attention. The poor child may never recover, but I can’t help the grin spreading over my face. My Moose knows how to work a crowd.
I hand him a guitar, and we sing “Liza Jane,” followed by a little bit of “Layla,” and then he moves back to the keyboard. He gets some water and attempts to play some of “Levon.”
“I’ll have to work on that one. Maybe next time. Are y’all havin’ fun?”
The kids all scream, and I can’t believe they’re still here. I feel like he’s played a hundred songs, but since he hasn’t played most of them all the way through, it’s only been a little over an hour.
“Oh, hang on a second, y’all. Squirrel, tell them how much you love me.”
I laugh and shake my head as he runs over to Carla and checks his phone. I guess I don’t need to know what he’s up to, but we’re live. And just like radio, the greatest commandment is Thou shalt not allow dead air.
I grab a guitar and lower a mic so I can sit on the edge of the lowest riser, gently strumming chords to an easier Needtobreathe song while Sam’s doing … whatever he’s doing. I feel like a five-year-old, since his acoustic is so much bigger than my guitar at home.
“So, it appears Sam’s momentarily indisposed. Any secrets y’all want to know?” I make a silly face and hope this is no worse than entertaining the kids at Layla’s twelfth birthday a few years ago.
It’s quiet for a beat. “Come on, y’all. He’ll be right back. You’re not stuck with me forever.” They laugh. Phew. “So … questions?”
Someone yells out asking how long we’ve been together.
“Us? Like, Moose and me? We have been seeing each other musically for about a year. We’re un-biological siblings—twins, practically.
What else? This is your golden opportunity.
I could tell you about his parking tickets, his guilty pleasure music, favorite foods, what he got on his last literature quiz. ”
Oh, sweet heavenly favor. They’re laughing.
I look at Carla, and she shrugs with wide eyes. Sam’s on the phone, but he doesn’t look upset. I’d be able to tell instantly. As long as everything’s okay, I guess I can hold it down for him.
“So … confessions? Comments? Complaints?” It makes me laugh when Jude says it, so I figure it’s worth a shot here.
“Well, fine. I’ll just spill. Sam drives like a very sweet maniac.
I know there are a lot of gray Civics out there, but you should give them all a wide berth just in case.
And he parks wherever the vibes feel right.
Sidewalks don’t hinder him. Oh! And he has an unbelievable mental catalog of music.
It’s nearly impossible to name something he can’t play.
We bond over Bon Jovi, Needtobreathe, and George Strait, but he secretly loves Disney soundtracks.
” Somehow, I still have rapt attention and laughter.
A girl yells out, “Favorite food!”
“Oh, right! Tropical Skittles and deep-dish pizza. Anything on the pizza. You could put the Skittles on the pizza.”
“How many instruments can he play?” a young guy shouts.
“That’s a good one! Who’s seen him on drums?
Anyone?” They all cheer, so I was right.
A lot of them already follow him. “I don’t know!
Sam’s an incredible drummer. I’ve seen him play guitar, all sorts of percussion, bass, and piano.
I think he’s mentioned violin, ukelele, and banjo.
I haven’t heard him on banjo yet, but I really want to. ” They clap, but he’s still not back.
He’s going to owe me. Big time.