Page 29 of Master Debater

He brought up our joined hands and rested my knuckles against his mouth, his lips intermittently brushing them as he spoke. “What I’ve learned during my trickier cases is that I have to present the best case and argument I can with the information and knowledge I have. I charge until I hit a wall, and that’s how I know I need to backtrack and find a new path. That’s all any of us can do. That, and to learn from the past and act now, which is exactly what you’re doing.”

Something deep within me unraveled, a knot of shame and remorse, that allowed me to breathe more fully. I hadn’t even realized how tightly I’d been holding on to that, letting it hinder my progress.

“Although, I still want to kick your ex-husband’s ass for not taking better care of your dreams.” Nate lowered his arm, and mine went along for the ride as he sandwiched my hand in both of his. “Part of caring about someone is helping them achieve their goals and aspirations, not stifling them.”

My mom and Leah had told me similar. Hell, I’d even attempted to convince myself. But tonight, I actually heard it. More, I believed it. Maybe it was the guy, or maybe it was the setting and having come full circle. Probably all of the above.

“So now we do a compare and contrast. What was your dream for your future when you stood on this stage that first time? Has it changed? If so, how, and from there, we draw up a plan to make it happen.”

“Originally, I just wanted to make music. Didn’t much care how. I toyed with the idea of becoming a recording artist for a while. People constantly told me my weight would be my biggest hurdle, and that was when I was younger and…” I placed my free hand over my stomach, fighting my insecurities. Already my stamina was improving from biking, and my clothes felt good instead of too snug, but I’d never be stick thin. “Yeah.”

“That’s a crock of shit, and I’ve always hated that about the entertainment industry. Why do they get to define beauty in such narrow—and downright wrong—standards? Hear me when I say this…” The steely veracity in his expression dismissed my urge to hide. “You’re fucking gorgeous, exactly as you are. Anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot. On top of being beautiful, inside and out, I’ve heard plenty of live performances in my day, and I’ve never been so blown away by a set of pipes.”

“I appreciate that, I do,” I said, and Nate arched an eyebrow, warning me not to contradict him. It melted away the last of my insecurities and spread sunshine through my soul.

“Sooner or later, you’re going to realize that it’s easier to just agree and go along than argue, since I’ll win in the end anyway.”

“No thank you. I choose the hard way.” I wound his tie around my fist and gave it a light tug. “Now, if you’ll let me finish, what I was going to say was that the process of recording, touring, and everything else that goes into that path overwhelms me. While I wish I could say my insecurities wouldn’t get to me, I dealt with constant scrutiny during my marriage, and it was unhealthy enough that I refuse to put myself in that situation ever again. I want more than life in a small town, but when it comes down to it, I’m not searching for fame. Not that type, anyway.

“But studying music, ripping it apart and putting it back together in a new fresh way, and creating melodies from scratch is something I’ve always loved. I get to do that in my music theory classes, and I’ve been writing songs here and there.”

“Let’s hear one,” Nate said, and I shook my head, earning that arched eyebrow again.

“When it’s ready, you’ll be the first person I show. I promise.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that. Just like I’m going to later punish you for that ‘if you’ll let me finish’ remark.” Before I could respond to the latter, he glanced out at our empty audience. “You can’t keep this crowd waiting that long, though. People came here tonight to be entertained, and we shouldn’t let this stage go to waste.”

I laughed, loving the way he embraced the impromptu journey I’d taken us on, an odd amalgamation of past and present.

Nate walked toward the darker part of the stage, where a few odd instruments were strewn about. No piano, and I didn’t see a keyboard either. He picked up a guitar, secured the strap around himself, and strummed his fingers across the strings. “So? What song are we performing for them tonight?”

“You play the guitar too?”

Nate placed his hand over the neck of the instrument, stopping the chord in its tracks. “Not well. That’s why you’d better sing extra loud. I’d hate for our audience to boo you because of your guitar player.”

“I have a feeling you’re just being humble.”

A gleam lit his eyes as he walked to the other side of me, swiping a hand across my lower back and perking up every cell in my body. “Babe, I don’t do humble. Surprised you haven’t noticed.”

A laugh spilled out of me, ricocheting through the chairs that made up our audience. Other singers used to talk about the energy they received from the crowd, whereas I’d always taken mine from the music, the onlookers often adding more anxiety than energy. “Earlier today, I was reminiscing on my days singing at the local bar, and there was one song that always ‘raised the roof,’ as they say. Country isn’t my specialty, but having friends in low places, on the other hand…” I slung an arm over my bandmate’s shoulder. “I’ve got a few of those.”

“Wait. What bar?”

“You probably wouldn’t know it. I didn’t hang at the hoity toity fancy places that you’d frequent.”

Nate pinched my side, and I dodged, seconds too late.

“Laney’s Last Call, near Fenway Park. I owe my last few years of tuition to the tips I made from”—I slipped into my best Boston accent—“Sawx fans after the games.”

His eyes narrowed. “Seriously? A buddy of mine and I went there after a game, after some other fans told us about the amazing singer who performed there, and she sang that very song. Since he knew I liked music, he dragged me along, and I remember thinking an angel must’ve taken the stage. Only, by that point, I was too drunk, and the place was too crowded to make out more than she had a long blond ponytail and an incredible voice.”

“Oh, then it was for sure me. See?” I bumped my shoulder to his. “You’re not the only one with an ego.”

I thought he’d laugh at what I’d meant to be a joke, but he studied me like a person he’d met before but couldn’t quite place. “It would’ve been six—no, seven—years ago.”

A strange sense of serendipity tingled through me, and all I could do was nod to indicate the timing lined up.

“It had to have been you. I can’t believe I didn’t stumble my way to the stage and meet you. Of course, I would’ve given you some awful line you’d be smart enough to see through, and that would’ve been that.”

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