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“That,” I point to Keisha rushing to her mom, and I think I hear another squeal of delight as she gets there, and her mother tries to get her to settle in her seat. “That’s what tonight is about.” I say to the six musicians surrounding me. Musicians of all shapes, sizes, colors, abilities. “We were all that little girl at one time. She’s probably way ahead of some of you because she is even here. She has a parent with her. But I want everyone out there tonight to see themselves on this stage and be inspired to chase any and every dream they have.”
I stare at the glowing faces. “And let’s have some fun!”
I spot TJ bringing my mom in for a hug and shaking my dad’s hand.
The surging emotions and excitement of the moment have me sweeping my hand across his back when I reach them. He doesn’t flinch but I do, quickly removing it and turning to my parents to hug my mom, change the moment.
“Oh, look at you,” Mom says. She grabs my lapels and then smooths them, wiping away all the imaginary dust. Then she grabs my face in her hands. “I’m so proud of you.”
I grin and feel heat fill my face. Is it my mom’s words or the stare I feel coming from next to me?
When I release my mom and face him, TJ’s lips quirk into a grin. “You never asked for it back.” I say and shrug.
TJ’s grin turns wicked. “Well, thank God for that,” he says. His eyes roam up and down my body. My body being hugged by his suit in different areas than this suit hugs him, but the fit is nearly perfect.
“Keisha?”
The stage lights even in this small auditorium make it hard for me to see out into the audience. “I can’t see out there very well, but can you come up here, please?”
It takes a moment, but I finally see the tiny figure bouncing down the aisle. I move over to the stage steps and help her up. “Would you play a song with me?” I ask it away from the microphone.
“I…. I uh…. Oh, gosh…”
I wink at her, and she takes over the cello a college student had been playing. The student settles Keisha into the chair. “Is there something you like playing best?” She grins. “Do you know Thunderstruck?”
My jaw drops. Thunderstruck is a wickedly fast-paced duel made famous by one of my heroes, David Garrett, and for a girl who claims she just started and isn’t any good… “Seriously?”
She grins. Her grin makes me think I’ve just been played by a skinny 14-year-old girl.
“You heard the lady,” I say and step back.
Two hours and two encores later, I finally bid everyone good night. I could play all night. I really could. When was the last time I felt like this? When was the last time I played a venue this small? Have I? Certainly, I did at some point. But arenas and stadiums and commercials and anthems before sporting events have become the norm of my life. My brand. But am I my brand? My manager is going to shit a brick when he finds out about this. I don’t care. I want this. More of this.
Everyone backstage is beaming, and it’s so right that the first eyes I meet are the ones of the man dressed exactly like me. I throw my arms around him, and he doesn’t hesitate to return my embrace.
“You are amazing.” The heat of his breath tickles my ear and I feel just the hint of lips against my neck…maybe. Did I imagine it? Is it just because everyone wants to hug me right now? Reluctantly, I let go to hug Mom, Dad, Fynn…all the musicians who were with me.
Photos are snapped…Champagne is popped. Amidst the swirling chaos, I finally find TJ again chatting with my dad. Maybe some hockey talk. It doesn’t look serious. It looks relaxed; it looks right. So right to have someone I’m close to chatting with the man who has become my best friend. Best friend.
“Did you find someone to talk hockey with?” I slide up next to TJ, trail my hand down his arm, and thread my fingers through his. The second instinctual intimate moment I didn’t plan. He meets the squeeze of my fingers and smiles at me.
“Nope,” Dad says.
“Soccer,” TJ says. “You didn’t tell me your dad played professional soccer.”
Dad quickly stops TJ. “It was one season…so nothing to—”
“Hey one season is one season. I’m a professional athlete. One season is still something special.”
My dad blushes. “He also played on the Swedish National team for several seasons. Bet he didn’t mention that, did he?” His blush deepens, and he shakes his head.
“He’s lovely,” my mom leans in and whispers in my ear. She gestures at TJ with her head. Her eyes twinkling. I scowl. He is, though. So lovely.
Way too many more champagne toasts and security is finally giving us not-so-subtle hints we need to leave the building. TJ, Fynn, and I step out into the chilly air. Chester spots us and steps out of the car to open the door.
We bid my parents good night. And settle them into their car.
Fynn tugs on my hand. “Let’s go to the club to celebrate.”
