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“That’s what Fynn says.”
“He’s right, Nandy. This is your life, your music. You are amazingly talented, and you have reached a point where you can do whatever you want with that talent. If small venues and cheap tickets and helping music students is what you want…then do it.”
“Fynn says that too.”
“He’s a smart man. I knew I liked him.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“So what…will you feel better if you try and it isn’t what you want, or if we are still having this conversation, having not tried years from now?”
Years from now, us having a conversation at all. That’s optimistic.
“How can I help?”
I need you there, that’s all I need. How do I say that? I’ve looked at the schedule. This time block with my damn manager out of the country falls during the All-Star break.
“Are you on the All-Star team?”
“What? Uh, no, not this year.”
“My manager will be out of the country then…I’d like to do it then. Just easier than him trying to talk me out of it, or worse, being involved. I’d like you—”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I hear my phone vibrating on the coffee table and glance at my watch. Shit. I get up and text Randall to give me another 30 minutes.
“Do you have to go?”
I nod. “Yeah, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, this was amazing.” TJ pulls the Sharpie out of his pocket, and I laugh hard. “Hey, I wasn’t kidding.”
I retrieve the jersey and he scrawls his name across the back under his name. We walk to the door together and damn, I want to kiss him. As I’m having the thought, TJ leans in and brushes his face against my cheek. “I’m serious about the small concert,” he whispers into my ear. “Whatever you need from me, I’ll do it. Don’t you dare let go of that dream.” His lips barely caress my cheek…on purpose? An accident?
I cling to the bit of warmth I can feel from them. The tingle left on my skin from that hint of his lips. The softness. The slight scratch of his beard.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
“Thanks for the autograph.” I wink at him. The smile doesn’t leave my face for the rest of the day. Not even Randall’s grumpy ass can wipe it away.
Chapter seventeen
I lean back against to dresser in the middle of my closet and stare at the wall of colorful jackets and blouses and patterned trousers. Part of my brand. Part of who I became when I started performing. I enjoy it. I enjoy the outlandish outfits that I can pull off. They suit me. They suit my shows.
But tonight’s show is different. I don’t want to be a brand tonight. I don’t want to put on a show, per se. I want to play. I want to give the students joining me a chance to play before a crowd. The chance to shine. The chance to feel the music. The chance to know everything is possible.
I look at the pastel pink suit I last wore in Calgary. The night I met TJ. I smile. I could wear that tonight. Tonight is as much about him as it is about me. I told him playing in his arena got me thinking about this dream again. I don’t think he realizes how close to him I felt playing in that arena. I didn’t tell him that. Wasn’t sure how to express it. He told me not to let go of this dream. I grabbed that courage he offered me and here we are.
My manager will have a coronary when he finds out about this. I don’t care. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I don’t care about what he thinks or what anyone else thinks.
Then my eyes land on the dark fabric hanging next to the pink suit. Oh my God. I forgot all about it.
I pull TJ’s suit down and let my fingers stroke across the soft wool. I smile. Will he notice? I’ve never worn anything so plain on stage before. He’ll notice that. I think. It may appear to be plain, but it’s not. There is a glen plaid pattern running through the dark charcoal fabric. The fabric is expensive and gorgeous, and the suit is custom fit for TJ’s body, not mine. Our sizes are similar enough. Same height. Similar broad shoulders. I lack those massive thighs, of course. Just the thought of those massive thighs filling this fabric has things stirring in my belly.
I can pull this off. TJ doesn’t really flirt with me anymore. The friendship way too precious to both of us. I’m pretty sure whatever desire he had to play with a man has disappeared. He’s over it. But he hasn’t mentioned a woman since I’ve known him. I haven’t spotted any photos online of him with a woman either. I have seen pictures of him with me.
My desire for him…well, I’m having more and more trouble keeping that at bay when I’m alone in my bed at night.
