Chapter Two
FROM: Pastor Charles Littleton
Sent: Wednesday, April 15 7:52 AM
To: Candi Canaberry
Subject: Last night’s practice
Candi:
How do you think it went last night? I got a quick email from Samuel this morning. He thanked me for the opportunity and said he thought it was a productive practice. I’m anxious to meet with the two of you. Keep me posted.
Charles
Candi entered the Cornerstone Fellowship office at exactly ten o’clock. The church secretary looked up from her crowded space behind the tall counter.
“Mornin’, Candi.”
“Hey, Ms. Mattie. Is he back from his meeting yet?”
Ms. Mattie rolled her office chair a little to the right and stretched to retrieve papers from the printer. “Should be any time.”
Candi glanced around the small room. Something was missing from the tired off-white wall. “Where did the pictures go?”
“Well...” The older woman tapped a stack of papers into place and arranged them on the counter. “One of them just fell right off the wall. I was going to put it back up, but realized whoever hung them hadn’t used strong enough hangers. I’m going to get someone to redo them all. Sure is ugly, huh?”
“On the bright side, have you seen the latest drawings from the architect?”
“Not recently.”
“Well, let me tell ya. In the new building, you’ll have a huge office all to yourself. There’s also a bigger work room, a separate meeting room, and a kitchen.”
“I won’t know what to do with all that space.” Ms. Mattie squeezed herself into the area between her old metal desk and the reception counter. “Want some coffee?”
Candi dropped into the wingback chair by the door. Her stomach gurgled and a surge of warmth crept across her body and heated her face. “No, thanks. I’ve had enough caffeine this morning. I think I’m over the limit. I feel a little charged if you know what I mean.”
Ms. Mattie dipped her head to look at her over the top of her reading glasses. “How much did you drink?”
“A whole pot.”
“That’s a lot of coffee.”
“I didn’t sleep last night.”
As Ms. Mattie opened her mouth to no doubt begin the lecture, Pastor Charles came through the front glass double doors.
He spotted Candi and turned to leave again.
She jumped out of the chair. “Oh no you don’t. I need to talk to you.”
He stepped back inside. “All right, all right, I’m just kidding.” He dropped his keys into the pocket of his khakis and set his planner on the counter. “I knew I’d see you today, but I didn’t think it would be before I made it to the coffee pot.”
“Don’t let her have any more,” Ms. Mattie interjected. “She’s already wired.”
“Fan- tastic ,” he said and started to roll up his sleeves. “That means she’ll be yelling at me at twice the speed she usually does.”
Ms. Mattie snickered.
Candi crossed her arms to keep from waving them around in her caffeine-induced frenzy. “I can see you’re both enjoying this, but I have to get back to class eventually.”
Pastor Charles motioned toward his office. “Have a seat. Let me get my coffee.”
Candi entered his office and crossed the small space to turn on the brass lamp at the corner of his large mahogany desk. Late morning sun peeked through the partially open mini-blinds and illuminated the same stack of books that had been sitting on the floor by his chair for weeks. She knocked the dust off and set them on the bookshelf along the wall. He’d never know the difference.
She sat in one of his well-worn, hunter green visitor chairs and then hopped up again. As she always did when she came to pour her heart out to her beloved pastor, she made her way around the room to scan the latest photos of his children and grandchildren. Someone graduated from college, someone had a baby, someone had their first haircut.
And because she had very few of these idyllic family photos featuring her own parents, she remained continually grateful that God had sent Pastor Charles to be the mentor and father figure she desperately needed.
He came in and placed his mail on one of the many piles on his desk. “What’s up?” He took a gulp from his Real Men Love Jesus mug.
What’s up? What’s up? She returned to her chair. So he was going to play this like he had no idea what was up?
He leaned forward, folded his hands on his desk and waited.
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked calmly. “I mean, am I being punished? Do you think I offended God in some way that he’d send one of the dead lizards to join my praise and worship team?”
Pastor Charles’s bottom lip twitched and a flash of red crossed his cheeks before he laughed “Oh, Candi, that’s good.” He leaned back in his swivel chair. “You think this is somehow all about you.”
And so they were off.
She left her chair and started to pace. “No, I don’t think it’s about me. It’s about the band, and it’s about worship, and I can’t believe you think this is going to work. He’s a real live rock star, you know. I could barely control practice. Everyone knew who he was. Kevin and Kelly almost had matching heart attacks trying to keep their mouths shut. Max was so starstruck he played one of our most familiar songs in four/four.”
“So?”
“It’s supposed to be in six/eight!”
He shrugged and laced his fingers behind is head. “I don’t know what that means, but I’m sure everyone will settle down once they get to know him.”
“And here I was going on about our little sound system and how I hoped we’d get something bigger, and the whole time he’s probably thinking what a rinky-dink little setup we had compared to the mind-blowing speakers he’s used to.”
“I don’t think he’s like that.”
She paused in the middle of the room. “I can’t tell how old he is.” She pointed to her own eyes with an exaggerated gesture. “He’s got these crow’s feet like a forty-year-old. Most likely from years of squinting in the dim light of smoky bars.”
Pastor Charles’s laugh rumbled low in his chest. “Oh, Candi, he’s not forty. Barely thirty like you—”
“Have you seen his tattoo?”
“Yeah, they’re kinda hard to miss.”
“ They’re kinda hard to miss? How much satanic artwork does he have?” She should have known his other arm was just as bad.
Pastor Charles rolled his eyes.
She planted her hands on his desk and leaned in. “I’m talking about the lizard right now. It’s the most demonic image of a poor, innocent reptile I’ve ever seen. Whoever put that ink on his arm must’ve been stoned out of his mind. He’s going to have to cover that thing in church.”
“Really? Do you make Max cover his tattoos?”
“Max has a giant cross on his right forearm. He says that when he shakes hands with someone, his testimony is right there for them to see and it often opens doors for witnessing.”
“I see. So clearly Max went to a Christian tattoo parlor for his giant cross, while Samuel chose a devil worshipper to ink his lizard, so therefore, Samuel must cover his. Right?”
“You know what I mean, Pastor. And, by the way, he goes by Shade. Not Samuel.”
“Oh yes, I seem to remember that.” He scratched his balding head. “What’s this really about, Candi? It’s not like you to shut someone out.”
She collapsed in the chair. “I’m not trying to shut him out. I just don’t know if the praise and worship team’s the right place for him. I don’t think he knows anything about worship.”
“Teach him.”
“But you want me to take him on as some sort of co-leader or something. Do we even know his musical background outside of Dead Lizard Highway?”
“So that’s what this is about. You don’t like the way this happened, and you feel threatened.”
“Not threatened so much as confused. The guy showed up at practice before we even had a chance to meet. I was completely unprepared.”
“Would you have approached him yourself?”
She sank further into her chair. “I didn’t even know he was here.”
“Well, there you go. I met him when he first visited and wanted to get him connected.” He pulled out his reading glasses and perched them low on his nose. “Listen, Candi, I’m trying to look at the big picture. We’re already at two services on Sunday morning and you and your team are doing them both. You can’t keep up that pace, especially since it looks like we’ll have to add another one during the week. Did you really think you could do three services week in and week out? You’ve got to grow the band so when the time comes there’ll be enough of you to go around. Shade is the first person to come through those doors with as much musical experience as you. There’s not anyone on your team we could put in charge if God decided to move you tomorrow.”
“I don’t know anything about him.”
“Ask him.”
“Everything about him screams rocker.”
“Then you’re not looking hard enough, or worse, you’re just looking at the outside. Trust me, that guy is trying his best to do something different with his life.”
She let out a long, heavy sigh. “All right.”
“Anything else you need this morning?”
“I think he might know my dad.”
He pulled his glasses back off and took another sip of coffee. He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. “That would be interesting.”
“You mean terrifying?”
“Why do you think he knows your dad?”
“Last night at practice he seemed convinced he knew someone named Canaberry in Austin. It’s not that common of a name. Then he backed off, so I don’t know if he really knows something or not.”
“And what if he does?”
“Then there will be no end to my humiliation.”
“You’re not your father, Candi, and someday you’re going to have to stop running from all that and deal with it.”
“Who’s running? Is it wrong to not want people to know I have a criminal father who took advantage of a lot of good people and cost them their musical careers, their reputations, and often left them penniless?”
“He’s paying for his crimes.”
“And so am I, as are most of his victims.” She glanced at the time. “I have to get back on campus.”
“Here.” He handed her a slip of paper. “It’s Shade’s contact information in case you didn’t already get it. Text him. Get to know him. Sometime soon, we’ll sit down together and see what ideas you’ve come up with, and I have a few of my own. The building committee has already finished with the architect. This thing’s not slowing down. You need to be ready.”
Candi nodded and headed for the door. “We will be.”
“Wait a minute. You didn’t tell me how he did last night. Will he play Sunday?”
“Oh no. He needs time to learn our music.”
“Is he any good?”
Candi bit the inside of her lip. “One of the best I’ve heard.”
“Hey, Candi?” Ms. Mattie flagged her down on the way out.
“Watcha’ need?”
“I have a question.”
Ms. Mattie always had a question, and it was usually related to music and her grandchildren. Should so-and-so be taking piano yet? Should her daughter buy or rent a brass instrument for a sixth grader? Candi was happy to oblige. “Go ahead.”
“Can you ask Shade if he’ll sign my grandson’s Let Dead Lizards Lie t-shirt? It would mean the world to him.”
Shade glanced at his GPS. Oak Manor should be just ahead. He flipped down his visor to cut the glare of the mid-morning sun, and took a quick look at each side street and road sign as he wrestled the old truck into second gear. And though he expected Oak Manor Drive to appear at any time, he still almost missed it. He hit the brake, pressed the clutch to the floor, and made the hard right. The truck stalled. Any attempt he made to pop it back into gear proved futile.
He drifted onto the shoulder and came to a stop across from the large and dilapidated Oak Manor subdivision sign. He thumbed through his spiral notebook filled with job site directions, business contacts, and other information. Near the back, he found the page with the address. 1227 Acorn Ridge. The words above it, Jess and Rachel, jumped out at him and snatched the air from his lungs. Was it hope he felt as he caught his breath, or was it fear?
Jess’s visit to see him in the hospital was a blur of pain and confusion. She’d come at a time when every movement was a struggle, and every connected thought was a chore. For weeks he’d lain there as his spine healed and his bones fused back together with no real certainty of when he’d walk again. He’d marked the days by the changing shifts of the nursing staff and by the number of times a week he saw the hospital’s social worker or physical therapist.
When Jess hadn’t come right away, he believed it was over and never expected to see her again. Yet there she stood at his bedside, her bulging belly covered in stretchy pink material that hugged her so tight he could see the baby inside her move. Even now as he recalled what he could remember of their conversation, the feelings of total helplessness and anger crept back into his brain.
“...Jess?”
She gently curled her fingers around his left hand where it lay at his side. “Yeah, it’s me. How are you feeling?”
“Pete’s dead.”
“I know, babe. I’m sorry.”
“It’s my fault.”
Her huge blue eyes shimmered. “No, it’s not.”
“It is.” His own tears slid from his eyes and dampened the pillow.
She glanced at his other hand. “That contraption on your arm looks like a cell phone tower or something. Does it hurt much?”
“Only when they adjust the screws.” He tried to clear his throat. “You’re pregnant.”
She squeezed his hand tighter and reached behind her to scoot the chair closer to the bed. She gathered her long, honey-blonde hair and pulled it around to hang across her right shoulder. That hair move was classic Jess, and usually meant she was about to say something important. “We’re pregnant. This baby is yours and mine.”
Shock surged through him. If there was an appropriate response, he could not voice it. Scrambled phrases came to mind, none of them made any sense except one. “You smell like coconuts.”
She laughed softly. “Yeah, it’s the oil I rub on my belly every day to keep from getting stretch marks. My mother swears by it.” She leaned in closer and touched his cheek. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah. I’m fuzzy from the meds and crazy from the amount of time I’ve been here. The right words don’t always come out, but I heard you.”
“I know I should have been here sooner, but the pregnancy was difficult in the beginning. Excessive morning sickness. The doctor said no trips, not even a three-hour car ride to Austin. He didn’t want me too far from home if something went wrong. Then, when your mother called about the accident, I’d kept it from you so long I didn’t know what to do.”
“I can think of a million things you could’ve done. At least now I know why you didn’t return my calls.” He tried to pull his hand away. His shoulder throbbed with the movement, and his heart ached when he brushed her thumb and realized the silver band of engraved roses he gave her was gone.
“I’m sorry, Shade, but you have to understand. I suddenly had a baby to think about. I couldn’t take any more chances, or hold on to any more promises that never seemed to mean anything.”
Anger raced through his system and cancelled out the shock. “Who’s gonna raise my baby?”
“It’s not like that.”
His heart monitor bleeped double time. “When’s my baby due?”
“Late October.”
His nurse hurried in and gave Jess a dirty look.
“I’m going.” She leaned in again. “Look, Shade, I would never, ever, keep you away from your child. But if you want to be a part of this baby’s life, you need to be well. And you know what I mean. It doesn’t have anything to do with your current injuries...”
Yeah, he knew what she meant back then, and he’d already decided to change his life.
His truck roared back to life as the blast of a horn startled him. A huge, paneled delivery truck rumbled past. The rush of wind it created blew through his open window and scattered the notes from his seat.
1227 Acorn Ridge. He made the second left and drove past the row of older brick homes on oversized lots, and around the bend, where mature oaks canopied the entrance to the subdivision’s playground. He slowed to pass the morning walkers and the friendly neighbors who lingered to visit in driveways with mail tucked under their arms. Everyone waved, though he didn’t know a soul.
1223... 1225...
He gently pressed the brake and prayed that just this once the truck would cooperate as he took a fleeting glance at the home where his nearly six-month-old daughter hung her booties.
He held his breath. Front bay window, dented mailbox, neat front lawn. He exhaled and drove on because this wasn’t the day to stop and knock on the door.
Instead, this was the day to allow more reality into the puzzle of recovery that had become his journey. This was the day to take another step and see how it felt. He imagined her eyes were bigger and bluer than the last picture his mother sent.
It felt great.
Candi found a table near the window of the coffee shop and waited for Shade. One by one, the caffeine addicts streamed in for their early morning fix. Being no different, she set her own cup on the table and leafed through the sweetener packets until she found her favorite.
Shade appeared through a sea of groggy faces. “Good morning.”
“Hey.” She pasted on her best seven o’clock in the morning smile and ripped the top off the fake sugar. “Thanks for coming.” She glanced out the window and over her shoulder. “Where’d you come from? I’ve been watching for you.”
He nodded toward the front parking lot. “It’s crowded out there. Thought it’d be safer to park the Del Rio Destroyer at the strip center next door. I came in through the back.”
She tapped the stirrer on the side of her cup. “Del Rio Destroyer?”
“Yeah, it’s what I call that truck I drive. Long story, but it’s now an official danger to all living creatures. Let’s just pray I can get something new soon and leave it at that.”
“Sure. You drink coffee?”
He dropped a notebook on the table. “Oh yeah. I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.”
He headed for the counter amidst the others who toted laptops and sported ear buds.
Candi tried to organize her thoughts and her music, but instead spent much of the time analyzing Shade’s appearance. But why? It wasn’t as if the parade of students she saw every day at school didn’t push the envelope of fashion and logic.
What was it about his ragged, paint-splattered work jeans and his plain, white v-neck tee that irritated her so? Nothing. It was that floppy ponytail and the pesky lizard tattoo that sent her over the edge. Mercifully, he wore a white collared button-down over the tee to cover his arms. She guessed it was how he dressed up the look to meet with potential clients. She reached in her bag for her pen. Were any of these thoughts necessary? No.
He placed his cup on the table and paused. “You need anything else?”
She looked up. There was that brilliant white smile, intense hazel eyes, and magnetic personality she’d read about on some Dead Lizard Highway fan blogs. Apparently, in concert, those things incited normal, well-behaved women to breech the security barrier and hurl themselves onto the stage while Shade played his way through a twenty-eight-measure solo from one of the band’s biggest hits. If, that is, the blogs were true.
Thank goodness she was impervious to his charm.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
He slid into the wooden, ladder-back chair. “What’s up?”
She passed him a stack of music. “Pastor Charles wanted me to meet with you to discuss your role on the worship team.”
“Sounds official. What exactly would that role be?”
She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s been a little vague, but I think he’s concerned about the rapid growth of the church and the need to expand the music program. He feels someone with your experience can be a leader in the group and add another dimension to our worship.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I’m no praise and worship leader. I told him that. I don’t know the first thing about it. Besides, you’re the leader.”
His last remark hit the raw nerve she’d been nursing for two weeks. She didn’t feel much like the leader after all she’d been left out of, but it was nice of him to acknowledge that fact. In the same breath, he’d confirmed her worst fears. He was a total stranger to praise and worship.
She turned her cup in her fingers. Round and round it scooted on the table. “I understand that, and no one’s asking you to jump in and do anything you’re not comfortable with. But Pastor Charles thinks a lot of you and your talent, and he’d like for us to work together and see what happens.”
He nodded and took another swig from his extra-large cup.
“Besides,” she added, as she tried to quash her own doubts. “It’s not about us. It’s about God’s will for our team. All we can do is have faith and pray about it.”
He pulled his chair closer to the table and flashed that smile again. “I can do that.”
“Good. So tell me, did Pastor Charles give you any idea as to what he specifically wanted you to do?”
“Not exactly. He implied you were going to be real busy and could use some help. He said something about you starting a children’s choir. He also mentioned a mid-week youth service, but that’s all he said.”
Candi rubbed her forehead. This was the first she’d heard about the children’s choir. Wonder when Pastor planned to tell her about that? “Yeah, he’s wanted to start that youth service for a while now. I thought Kevin and Kelly could develop their leadership skills there, but they need guidance, as I’m sure you gathered the other night.”
“I was meaning to ask you about that. Are you sure they’re in college?”
She laughed. “I’m sure. They’re academically and musically gifted, but what they have in brains, they lack in social skills.” She paused to toy with her napkin. “You’ll love the band. They’re very talented, but at different places in their spiritual walk. Max has been a Christian since he accepted Christ as a little guy in his grandmother’s church, and I’m convinced he’ll go to seminary and have his own church. Carol Ann has more faith than anyone I’ve ever met, even though she has it rough at home. Rocky is the epitome of the power of positive thinking and overcoming obstacles. He hasn’t been a Christian very long. You’ll meet the others soon.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” He leafed through the stack of music and held up a page. “This is just lyrics. Is there a chord chart?”
She leaned in to take a look. “Uh...no. Kevin and I are trying to decide who’s going to sing it so it’ll either be in E or A. I’ll get a chart when we know for sure. I put that there because we’ll be working on it soon. You can listen online.”
He worked his pencil out of the spiral binding on his notebook and started to write across the top with his left hand.
Candi paused with the cup at her lips. “You’re left-handed.”
He met her gaze but didn’t say a word.
“But you don’t play a left-handed guitar.”
“That’s because I’m not truly left-handed, I guess.”
She snatched the paper off the table and looked at the perfectly formed letters in the note he wrote for himself. “This is great penmanship for a guy. C’mon, what gives? Are you ambidextrous?”
“I don’t think so, but when I used to work with my dad in construction, he would say I could hit my thumbs with a hammer equally well with both hands.”
Her sudden bark of laughter just missed being a snort.
“I’m glad you think it’s funny. Do you know how hard it is to play guitar with busted thumbs?”
“Sorry. But tell me. I’m only interested because I had to decode a lot of handwritten assignments before everything went online.”
He fidgeted in his seat and curled his coffee stirrer until it resembled a coiled snake. Candi recognized the look. It was the same shadow that crossed his face at least twice the other night in practice.
“Never mind, Shade. I was just curious.”
He shrugged as though he’d decided it was all right to share. “I was in a car accident last year. I injured my right hand and wrist. They had to put the exposed bones back together and sew up some nasty lacerations.” He ran a finger along a thin white scar on the outside of his hand. “They said I had nerve damage and pretty much guaranteed it would never return to normal. The doctor suggested I learn to use my left hand, and the physical therapist made sure I did.”
He pushed the coiled snake around the table with his right index finger.
“But you’re using it right now. Did it turn out better than expected?”
“I was laid up in the hospital a long time so that meant a lot of physical therapy. It helped. That and prayer.”
“So you had other serious injuries?”
The shadow darkened. “It was a bad accident.”
Pastor Charles said to get to know him and she tried. Sadly, the first interesting tidbit she stumbled upon was connected to a horrible memory that backed him right into a corner. He wasn’t even fighting to get out. He just shut down.
She scrambled to set him free. “Well, if you have any lingering problems, I sure couldn’t tell by the way you played the other night. You sounded great.”
His smile was half its usual brilliance. “Thanks.”
“On to business.” She crossed her arms in front of her on the table. “I have a music question I think you can help me with.”
“Shoot.”
“What do you know about click tracks?”
“In what way?”
She pulled up an article on her phone, and slid a magazine about church worship across the table. “From what I understand, you can run a click track through your sound system and straight into the band’s ear monitors. The clicks can be set at whatever tempo you want and all the band has to do is stay with the track. The band can hear the clicks but the congregation can’t.”
“Why are you interested in that?”
“Well, Max is a good drummer, but he’s not a great drummer. He’s learning, and I have him working with a percussionist at the college, but he often loses the tempo in the middle of the song. He speeds up, slows down, whatever, and when it’s his responsibility to start the song, we never know what we’re gonna get.”
Shade leaned back and hung one arm over the back of the chair. His smug grin made her feel stupid before he even opened his mouth. “C’mon, Candi, you know that’s a universal problem with drummers.”
“Of course I know that, and believe me, he takes a lot of heat about it.”
“He’ll get better with time and practice. You don’t need a click track.”
“But it might help. The experts I’ve been reading say it creates a more polished sound.”
“It also zaps spontaneity and teaches your drummer to rely on that manufactured click rather than the natural clock in his head. He won’t get better. He’ll just learn to respond like one of Pavlov’s dogs.”
She drew a quick mental picture of that but was too annoyed to stop and laugh about it. “I’m also interested in the additional effects we can add to enhance the music. For example, I would like to add a cello or violin once in a while and, in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have an orchestra at my disposal. It would be nice to have that option.”
Shade nodded but didn’t look convinced.
“I also have Kevin to contend with. If I’m leading the song, he watches me and doesn’t get lost. If he’s leading, he inevitably speeds up. Sometimes it’s like he and Max are in a race to finish. In congregational singing, that’s deadly. I often feel like we have to go back and pick them up.”
Shade laughed and downed the last of his coffee. “He’s young. He’ll get better too.”
Candi leaned in further as the muscles in her shoulders tightened and threatened a tension headache. He was so typically male. It was like talking to the proverbial brick wall. “Do you have any actual experience with click tracks or do you just want to disagree with me?”
“You asked for my opinion, and I’m trying to give it to you. I realize everyone who has a big stage show now uses them to keep video screens and dance numbers together. Everything has to be perfectly timed and it’s all digital. As for me, I’ve only used click tracks in the studio because time is expensive and there’s a lot of dubbing and synching going on. The beat has to be consistent. You’ll also find that the audience has discriminating ears when it comes to recorded music. They listen to the same track over and over and are likely to pick out subtle inconsistencies.”
“So you do like them.”
“No, I said I’ve used them in the studio. I don’t care for it in live performance, especially in a small venue like a church. It takes away all the flexibility, and I would think that in worship—of all places—you’d want flexibility.”
“But I’m also responsible for putting out a good product before God and the congregation. Shouldn’t we present our best polished worship to God?”
He tossed the coiled snake into his empty cup. “Are you kidding me? Wouldn’t God want the liberty to move through worship without the stifling confinement of a click track?”
Candi sighed. No doubt this meeting was about over.
He shifted in his chair. “All I’m saying is that in live music you need the opportunity to do what comes naturally. Especially in worship.”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about worship.”
“I know that much.”
She clamped her hands together in her lap and counted to ten. She could tell by his smirk he was having way too much fun. So he wasn’t crazy about click tracks. Did he have to make her feel like a dimwit for wanting to try?
And just as she calmed down...
His cell phone chimed. As he sat back to pull it out of his jean pocket, his v-neck t-shirt shifted. Tendrils of dark blue ink became visible near his collarbone. She turned away so fast the muscle in her neck pulled. That didn’t stop her from stealing another glimpse as he answered his phone and quickly dismissed the caller. Another hint of purplish-blue and possibly green, like a vine, peeked out from around the collar. Whatever it was, it was permanently planted over his heart and crept toward his neck.
“Sorry,” he said. “Business.”
Would Pastor Charles be irritated if she asked Shade to wear a turtleneck every time he entered the church?
“It’s OK. I know we both need to get to work.”
“About the click track,” he started. “A lot of companies offer a download for a trial period. I’ll find you something suitable to try, but I honestly hate to see the band start that now. Give ‘em a chance to gel and get tight on their own.”
Oh, she was way beyond the click track. In fact, the sudden appearance of the creepy neck and chest tattoo had reminded her there was a whole other painting on his right arm she hadn’t seen. She pushed her cup aside and gathered her things while trying to conjure up enough x-ray vision to see through his right shirt sleeve. The best she could muster was the tiny hint of an outline as he stood in the light from the window to push his phone back in his pocket. There were more lines and arcs that came to a point. Were those flames? A second glance revealed something else.
Horror of horrors, it just might be a skull.
She stifled a gasp. Was his whole body one big road map to hell?
He extended his hand as she stood. “I’m glad you texted.”
“No problem,” she squeaked. “Thanks again for coming. Is this a good time for you to meet? I know Pastor wants us to continue working things out and finding the best possible fit for you on the team.”
“Sure. This is good. Early. Before we go to work.”
He picked up his notebook and headed for the door.
“Hey,” she called after him. “Whoever gets here last has to buy the coffee.”
His riot-inciting smile was back. “Great. Make mine plain ol’ black coffee, nothing fancy, with just enough cream to give the spoon something to do.”
Candi chose a tailored navy suit and a crisp white blouse for church. She slipped into her matching heels and grabbed her bag. At the last minute, she traded her usual silver cross necklace and plain hoop earrings for a set of ships wheel jewelry she’d bought from a clearance table at a boutique. She hooked the toggle clasp at her throat and added the bracelet. The earrings would have to go on in the car. She took a quick look in the hall mirror on the way out the door. The dramatic combination kicked it up a notch.
Shade and Bill were already in the sound booth when she arrived.
Bill snapped to attention and saluted when she joined them. “Captain.” He thrust his chest forward. “Welcome aboard the U.S.S. Sound Booth.”
She paused and glanced at Shade who, besides being nicely covered in a long-sleeved blue oxford shirt, sat at the computer with his hand on the mouse.
“What’s wrong with Bill?” she asked.
Shade looked over and did a double-take. Then he grinned. “Nothing, Captain. Wild Bill is fine and fit for duty.”
Bill’s eyes twinkled and his ample belly jiggled as he tried to hold in what appeared to be gut-busting laughter. He shook from the top of his bushy gray head to the ends of his short, stubby fingers. It was like trying to talk to Santa Claus.
She raised an eyebrow. “Right. Good to see you, Bill. I see you’ve met Shade.”
“Aye, Captain. We’ve downloaded demos from the three leading suppliers of the software you need to run click tracks, sequences, loops, etc.”
Shade held up his hand before she could speak. “Don’t worry, I told him this was all for practice later this week. I created a folder here on the desktop when you’re ready to take a look.”
“Aye, Captain,” Bill added and pointed at the screen. “It’s here on the starboard side.” And with that, he lost all thread of control. He laughed so hard he had to bend over and hold the back of Shade’s chair for support.
Shade kept his face conspicuously turned away, but she could tell he was laughing by the way his shoulders shook.
She tugged at the ship’s wheel necklace and dangling earrings that now seemed ten times bigger than they actually were. There was a reason the novelty jewelry had been on clearance. “Enough already. It’s not that bad.”
Bill stood tall and wiped away a tear. “Sorry, Candi, but when you walked toward me, I had a Navy flashback.” He waved his hand around in front of her. “All those ships wheels... All that navy blue...”
“Yeah, I get it. It’s nautical.” She held up her phone. “Can I text you a set list or do you want paper?”
“My phone might be in the car.”
“Fine. Here’s what’s up for this morning. There are no surprises. All the slides should be ready and up to date. I’ve got to get up front, OK?”
“Sure thing.”
Carol Ann met her as she stepped onto the platform. “Bill givin’ you a hard time?”
“The usual. But I have to admit I made it easy today. I look like I should be on my way to the yacht club.”
“Oh stop. You do not.” She took a set list Candi offered and put it on her stand. “I see Shade made it.”
Candi flipped the power switch on her keyboard and pulled a pencil out of her notebook. “Yeah, he made it.”
Carol Ann cozied up beside her. “Word on the street is you two had coffee Friday morning. How’d it go?”
Candi nearly snapped the pencil in half. “Are you serious? Have we already become the subject of gossip?”
“Oh no, it’s not like that. He and Max were doing some work at the church Friday afternoon and I guess Shade mentioned it.”
“Max and Shade? Working at the church together? When did all that come about? They just met.”
“I don’t know, darlin’, but you’re gonna have to calm down. Look at me.” The older woman pulled her away from the keyboard and patted the side of her face. The familiar scent of Estee Lauder’s Youth Dew floated to Candi’s nose. “You’re much too young and beautiful for any premature wrinkles, so stop frowning. Why are you all tied up in knots?”
“I don’t know. Two weeks ago, I didn’t know Shade and now he’s everywhere. This whole situation is running off without me.”
Carol Ann stepped back with an exaggerated gasp. “Candace Camille Canaberry! You mean that little inner control freak of yours got loose and is out running wild again?”
“Got loose? I don’t think I ever had her constrained.”
Carol Ann laughed. “At least you know about her, and that’s half the battle.” Her smile faded. “Seriously, Candi, there’s no use worrying about what God has already set in motion. He’s got it under control and doesn’t need your help. You just have to go with it and do the right thing. It’s God’s business and you know he always has the best set aside for those who believe and are obedient.”
She groaned. “Then you better keep praying for me.”
“Always. Now I’m going to go get Kevin and Max out of the doughnuts in the hospitality room so you can prepare us for worship and give us final notes and all that.”
“Thanks. Make a pass through the foyer if you don’t mind. I saw Kelly and Rocky out there.”
Candi returned to her keyboard and continued to swipe through her iPad and sort a few pieces of music. From the corner of her eye, she saw Shade leave the sound booth and make his way to the front left pew where the band sat after worship.
He sat and stretched out his long legs. There was not one hole in his jeans. He pulled a thin black Bible from under his arm and leafed through it. The shiny silver edge of each page told her it was new, and the way he thumbed through several chapters at a time told her he was looking for something but had no idea where to find it.
Her heart warmed. At least he was in the right place for the answers she hoped would help with the secrets she was sure he held.
One by one, her team assembled. Like soldiers reporting for duty, they arranged their music, fine tuned their instruments, and quietly prepared their hearts to worship God. Even Kevin seemed to have focused his energy on the task at hand and managed to not mention Shade or Dead Lizard Highway once.
They gathered for prayer. Though he wasn’t playing, she motioned for Shade to join them. In the intimacy of their circle, Candi sensed it was going to be a great morning.
And it was.
Max stayed in tempo most of the time, Rocky added some licks she was sure surprised even him, and Kelly actually sang into her microphone and didn’t try to avoid it.
By the time they left the platform, Candi knew they had achieved true worship. It was one of their finest offerings, and she was sure God was blessed by their efforts.
She took a seat beside Shade with a satisfied smile. Kevin rushed Rocky down the ramp and rolled him to the end of their pew while the rest of the band dutifully filed down the row beside her.
Pastor Charles approached the pulpit. “Bill, if you’ll go ahead and put up today’s scripture reading.”
The congregation looked up at the large projection screen as the last of the worship lyrics faded away and the fourth chapter of Ephesians took its place. Amidst the rustling Bible pages, another distinct sound filled the sanctuary.
It started with four drum clicks.
A rollicking bass line soon followed.
The squeal of a lone guitar string entered the fray and pierced the air.
And the thump of techno sound effects screeched above it all.
Pastor Charles looked her way and smiled. It was his fake I’m not really smiling at you smile. She, in turn, glared at Shade.
His eyes widened. “I put that folder in a place Bill couldn’t accidentally open it.”
“Obviously you didn’t,” she snapped. “Fix it!”
He jumped from his seat. “Aye, Captain.”