Page 12 of The Singer and the Silent Type

“Her sister is taking care of her, so she’s more annoyed than anything else,” he chuckled. “How do you feel about filling in for us and saving the day?”

“Oh. Um...”

My limbs felt hollow, as if my blood had disappeared. The thumping in my chest could probably be heard over the bassist and fiddle player tuning their instruments.

“She’ll do it,” Iris said, looking at me carefully while she nodded. “You did great last night, Lorena. And this time there’s a whole band to distract people from watching you.”

I nodded. That was a good point. Plus, I had always dreamed of singing with a band. To have it dropped in my lap like this was a bit of a sign. Like Cody said, all I had to do was approach it like a job. If this were in the workplace, what would I do?

“What are the songs?” I asked, trying to breathe in and out like a normal person would.

He handed me a setlist and a pen. “Put a big dot beside anything you don’t know, and we’ll just skip that.”

Studying the list, I saw that they were all oldies and country favorites that I really did know quite well. I only made two dots, beside songs I barely knew, while trying not to listen to Bobby and Iris conferring among themselves briefly.

“You’re even wearing the perfect dress,” Iris said brightly.

I could hear announcements over the PA system back at the ring, as the master of ceremonies announced the barbeque tent opening and music from Bobby Decker and the Well-Behaved Outlaws.

Swallowing hard, I saw that the rest of the band were taking their positions. “Come on up, Lorena,” Bobby said, guiding me to the steps at the edge of the stage. A young man in black waved me over to a microphone already on a stand, adjusting the height for me perfectly.

Luckily it was a small stage, so I could see Bobby’s setlist at his feet. Placing my purse beside the amp behind me, I got into position.

“Just have fun with it, Lorena,” Bobby said. “Remember, people are here for the cheap beer as much as for us. They’ll never know if we’re slightly imperfect.”

“Hell, Bobby’s whole life is imperfect,” the lanky bass player chuckled. He flashed me a grin. “Are you ready to be a Well-Behaved Outlaw?”

I forced myself to smile and nod, trying to ignore my twitching fingers as I took a few slow breaths. This was a job. My boss asked me to do a job. I was going to work hard, and make everyone happy.

Half of the crowd was already coming around to mingle in front of the tents. Sure enough, as the breeze picked up, swishing my skirt an inch above my knee, I could see Verity and Esther near the back of the crowd, shaking their heads at me. Of course they would be here, judging me.

If only Cody knew where I was. There was something about him that made me feel calm and strong. Good grief – I didn’t even have his phone number to call him.

“Hey there, friends and neighbors, is everyone having a great time at the annual Sunset Ridge Rodeo?” Bobby called out. The crowd cheered, coming closer as they realized the music was about to begin. It seemed like everyone in the stands was emptying straight into the field in front of us, as the number of faces kept growing.

Please don’t let me mess this up , I silently begged.

“Thank you all for dropping by. Grab yourselves a cold beer, some hot barbeque, and maybe somebody cute. I’m Bobby Decker, and these are the Well-Behaved Outlaws. Hit it, Mikey.”

As the drums started, I was relieved that the first song was a classic, and that my background vocals were simply the parts that everyone in the audience would be singing along with.

Relief rushed through me as I saw Cody coming around the corner. The second he saw me, his jaw dropped open for a split second. Then his warm, handsome smile was directed at me like my own personal spotlight. He came right to the edge of the crowd, directly in front. Pointing at me, then to his mouth, then his heart, he told me to sing directly to him. I nodded, smiling back even though my lips felt mushy and numb.

As the verse rocked along and I knew my part was coming up, I realized that right now was a defining moment in my life. This split-second would thrill me or haunt me for the rest of my days. I could sing politely and get the job done, or I could let it rip, and rock these people’s butts off.

Channeling every female country rocker with high hair and sequins, I started singing, but realized it was a bit too soft. By the second chorus, I swallowed hard, and forced myself to look into Cody’s eyes, singing directly to him. By the third round, I belted that tune like I never had before, even putting a little throaty vibrato on some of the longer notes.

Bobby’s head spun around, his eyes wide as he nodded in absolute delight. Iris shot me a thumbs up. I saw several of my regular customers elbowing their friends and pointing to my corner. It was a strange feeling to have so many eyes on me, but it felt mostly positive, except for the two judgmental women in the back, obviously glaring and muttering.

When the song finished, the applause almost made me choke up, but I couldn’t let my throat close. The bass player took a few steps over to nod to me. “Damn, girl, you’ve got some pipes.”

Leaning away from the mic, I whispered, “Thank you.”

By the third song, I was actually dancing a little, just enjoying the music in the sunshine with a town full of people. By the fifth song, I felt like I’d chugged an energy drink, every muscle feeling twitchy and everything speeding in slow motion.

When the applause died out, Bobby said, “A wee birdie told me that our guest singer Lorena Little can belt the heck out of this next tune. If somebody hands me a beer right now, I certainly won’t be able to sing, so she’s just going to have to do it for me.”

In a flash, one of his buddies pressed a bottle into his hand, as he turned to me and shrugged. “Sorry, darlin’. It’s all you.”

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