The one that’s going to take me all the way to the stars, I can feel it.
Hot summer lovers. Hot summer night. The touch of his hand, so true and so right.
Then Frannie’s home and Momma calls me inside so she can lock the door. As I lay in my bed, I can still hear the music in my head.
Tell me where this road leads us and where does it end.
My show sold out weeks ago.
They all sell out. People camp on the streets the night before the tickets even fucking go on sale.
I’m in Nashville. I’m at a concert hall called The Blue Note that can hold around a thousan d. I usually play bigger venues, but Vaughn books these smaller shows every now and then. Some fans prefer them. I prefer them. Sure , there’s something mind-blowing about forty thousand people screaming your name, but the smaller shows have an intimacy to them that makes you feel the vibe in a different, more personal wa y. You can see their faces. You can smell the energy. There’s an immediacy to it that’s raw and real.
There’s a goddamn party going on in my dressing room . Trevor, my bass player, brought a whole bunch of chicks along and I can’t think. Usually I’d be into it. I’d be laughing right along with them.
Tonight their laughter is abrasive.
One of the girls walks up to me and sits on my lap, weaving her arm around my neck . She has long red hair and is wearing a very abbreviated cowgirl outfit. She’s moving. Barely grinding her ass against me. On any other day, I might have enjoyed it. I would have enjoyed it. I’ d have let her get me hard, then taken her into some empty room and fucked her. She obviously wants it. I can feel her heat and I know she’s wet for me. She starts kissing me, holding my face between her hands. My reaction is bizarre but I have to move. Her cheap perfume is gagging me. I lift her off me as I stand up and walk over to the corner, where my guitar is sitting on its stand.
Something fucked-up is happening to me.
That didn’t even turn me on. She’s not an ugly girl. She’s got nice skin and thick red hair. But I can’t do it.
All I can think of is her . Her hair and her skin. That blond silk and that naked golden beauty in the sun. The way I’d come all over her open mouth, her full breasts, her smooth stomach.
Damn it.
I want to do it again. Now. I want to see her. I want her to be the one sitting on my lap, kissing me. Getting me hard. I want her to be the one I take into some empty roo m. But no. With her, I’d take her to a five-star hotel. Give her champagne. Make her laugh. Then make sweet love to her all night long until she can’t remember anything but me and how good I make her feel.
Fuck.
I try to think about the songs. I go through the playlist in my head and tune my guitar . I have twenty-seven guitars and each one of them has its own sound. Every show, I choose carefully. Sometimes I play each song with a different guitar. Tonight the choice was easy, and there’s only one. It’s a Taylor Dreadnought 110 that plugs in.It’s the guitar I took to Sadie’s house last night. The one I played when I first heard her sing.
Vaughn walks in . He hands me a cold beer, even though I’m already drinking one. “Ten minutes, Elias.”
He watches as I chug the beer then finish the one I was already drinking. I slam them both onto the table.
“What the fuck’s up with you tonight?” he says. Vaughn knows me very well. He’s been my manager since I was a lean, hungry misfit kid. He knows my whole backstory, probably more than anyone ever even wanted to know. “Something goin’ on you’re not telling me?”
I try to act blasé about the whole thing, brush it off and concentrate on the music and the gig. This is proving more difficult than I’d hoped. I didn’t even take a shower. I can still taste her on my lips. I can still smell her on my skin. The memory of her … the way she moved, the way she tasted when my tongue was inside her, that tight, sweet,
Hot summer lovers. Hot summer night. The touch of his hand, so true and so right.
Then Frannie’s home and Momma calls me inside so she can lock the door. As I lay in my bed, I can still hear the music in my head.
Tell me where this road leads us and where does it end.
My show sold out weeks ago.
They all sell out. People camp on the streets the night before the tickets even fucking go on sale.
I’m in Nashville. I’m at a concert hall called The Blue Note that can hold around a thousan d. I usually play bigger venues, but Vaughn books these smaller shows every now and then. Some fans prefer them. I prefer them. Sure , there’s something mind-blowing about forty thousand people screaming your name, but the smaller shows have an intimacy to them that makes you feel the vibe in a different, more personal wa y. You can see their faces. You can smell the energy. There’s an immediacy to it that’s raw and real.
There’s a goddamn party going on in my dressing room . Trevor, my bass player, brought a whole bunch of chicks along and I can’t think. Usually I’d be into it. I’d be laughing right along with them.
Tonight their laughter is abrasive.
One of the girls walks up to me and sits on my lap, weaving her arm around my neck . She has long red hair and is wearing a very abbreviated cowgirl outfit. She’s moving. Barely grinding her ass against me. On any other day, I might have enjoyed it. I would have enjoyed it. I’ d have let her get me hard, then taken her into some empty room and fucked her. She obviously wants it. I can feel her heat and I know she’s wet for me. She starts kissing me, holding my face between her hands. My reaction is bizarre but I have to move. Her cheap perfume is gagging me. I lift her off me as I stand up and walk over to the corner, where my guitar is sitting on its stand.
Something fucked-up is happening to me.
That didn’t even turn me on. She’s not an ugly girl. She’s got nice skin and thick red hair. But I can’t do it.
All I can think of is her . Her hair and her skin. That blond silk and that naked golden beauty in the sun. The way I’d come all over her open mouth, her full breasts, her smooth stomach.
Damn it.
I want to do it again. Now. I want to see her. I want her to be the one sitting on my lap, kissing me. Getting me hard. I want her to be the one I take into some empty roo m. But no. With her, I’d take her to a five-star hotel. Give her champagne. Make her laugh. Then make sweet love to her all night long until she can’t remember anything but me and how good I make her feel.
Fuck.
I try to think about the songs. I go through the playlist in my head and tune my guitar . I have twenty-seven guitars and each one of them has its own sound. Every show, I choose carefully. Sometimes I play each song with a different guitar. Tonight the choice was easy, and there’s only one. It’s a Taylor Dreadnought 110 that plugs in.It’s the guitar I took to Sadie’s house last night. The one I played when I first heard her sing.
Vaughn walks in . He hands me a cold beer, even though I’m already drinking one. “Ten minutes, Elias.”
He watches as I chug the beer then finish the one I was already drinking. I slam them both onto the table.
“What the fuck’s up with you tonight?” he says. Vaughn knows me very well. He’s been my manager since I was a lean, hungry misfit kid. He knows my whole backstory, probably more than anyone ever even wanted to know. “Something goin’ on you’re not telling me?”
I try to act blasé about the whole thing, brush it off and concentrate on the music and the gig. This is proving more difficult than I’d hoped. I didn’t even take a shower. I can still taste her on my lips. I can still smell her on my skin. The memory of her … the way she moved, the way she tasted when my tongue was inside her, that tight, sweet,
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