The Trouble With Love, page 10
“Hol?”
I looked up into McKenna’s concerned gaze. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I asked if we were chopped liver?”
Relief fell from my lips in the form of laughter. “Sorry. Got lost in my own thoughts. How’ve you been?”
“Good. Marty lost a tooth.” She pulled out her phone and swiped the screen until she came to a stop. “Here he is.” She held the phone up for everyone to see.
The photo captured her beaming son, pure joy filling his eyes as he showed off the gap in his top row of teeth.
“Oh my. I didn’t think he could look any cuter.”
“Right?” She sighed. “He makes every day worthwhile.”
I turned to Kianna, who’d draped an arm around me. “Don’t even ask. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, okay then. I guess we’ll jump right into the set.”
She nodded and took up position behind a mic.
“I’m going for ‘Melody in my Soul,’ ‘Hey, There,’ and ‘Brave.’”
“Oh you’re going to make people cry with ‘Brave,’” McKenna said.
“Sorry not sorry.”
The guys chuckled.
“Ready?” Everyone nodded.
Candace counted us in, and I let the music flow through me. “Melody in my Soul” was my anthem. My attempt to explain how music made me feel and how I wanted it to touch others as much as it touched me. We rolled seamlessly into “Hey, There,” and my body swayed with the groove as I sang the upbeat tempo.
I’d sung the song at every single concert. It still remained my most downloaded track. But “Brave”…I sighed. That was going to take a lot out of me. McKenna had written it when her mom was diagnosed with cancer. Seeing her struggle, seeing the way she faced adversity head on, had touched me. When she shared the song, I knew it would be a hit.
“It’s easy to go out in the world, when everything’s going your way.” I held the last note for a bit before proceeding to the next stanza. “It’s easy to fall in love, with a boy who lights your day.”
Niles started a staccato beat, ramping up for the transition of verse to chorus.
I dropped an octave and sang, “But there will be tribulations, that ask more than we can give.”
I took a deep breath as the chorus flowed through me. “So you have to be brave; stand up and battle. You have to be brave; don’t let the darkness win. You have to be brave, because you don’t want your life to end.”
Tears pricked my eyes as I imagined the hardship Molly and her family had already gone through. The heartache McKenna had experienced when her mom lost her battle. All the sickness in the world, the suffering, the hurts made me ache. And though there were people who thought singers were frivolous and flighty beings, I knew the truth. We used music to cope. To escape the trials when we needed to or to make sense of a world that often baffled us.
Niles easily led us into the bridge, the heart of the song, and chills pebbled my arms as I spread them open wide. “So wear your courage like a knight’s armor, put your heart on your sleeve, and…be…brave. Stand up and battle. You have to be brave; don’t let the darkness win. You have to be brave, because you know you can win.”
I’d changed the last line last night. I wanted to encourage Molly, not have her fearing for her life. Silence descended as the last notes of the song faded. I blinked and turned. “What do you think? Should we make any changes?”
I wanted people to have fun and enjoy the set but also remember why we’d gathered. To celebrate a little girl’s life and her courageous fight against cancer.
Hector clapped. “It was perfect, Holiday. I think the audience will love it. Especially the little girl’s family.”
“Agreed,” Kianna stated.
We ran the set a few more times, tweaking things here and there. By the time we were finished, I was beat. It had been a while since I’d sung that much. Singing to myself—humming a tune while shopping or walking around Manhattan—was different than performing a set. Sure, it was only three songs, but I’d sung them over and over until the band thought the set was perfect. Or at least as close to perfect as we could get.
I hugged them good-bye but stopped Niles with a hand to his arm. “Hey, let’s talk.”
He sighed, looking at me. It was obvious he didn’t want to share, but I could be stubborn when I need to be.
“We can go grab some coffee. My treat.”
“How ’bout we just head to the cafeteria.”
“All right.” I grabbed my purse and followed Niles to the elevators. The record label had their own cafeteria in the basement. They offered every health-conscious option you could think of. The CEO was convinced a healthy team lasted longer and performed at a higher productivity level than those who indulged in a more gluttonous diet.
Personally, I could go for an all-beef burger, but it would have to be on the streets of the city. In this cafeteria, I’d get a vegetable-based product masquerading as beef. No, thanks.
Niles grabbed a tall black coffee, and I got an ice-cold brew. They didn’t have pineapples here, but that was okay. I sipped my drink, waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts. Finally, he clasped his hands together, sliding them onto the table and meeting my gaze head on.
“I need to quit the band.”
My breath hitched. “Why?” I asked calmly, despite the pounding of my heart.
“Doctor’s orders.”
I schooled my features hoping my eyes hadn’t widened or my mouth parted in surprise. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve been having headaches. Thought they were just migraines.”
“They’re not?” My heart was breaking. I wanted to tell my mind to calm and wait for Niles to tell me everything, but it was racing ahead like Chicken Little predicting destruction.
He shook his head. “Brain tumor.” He visibly swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing with the constriction.
“Is it operable?” I whispered.
“Yes,” he rasped. “But no guarantees I’ll be the same afterward.”
Tears filled my eyes. “Do you need anything? Do you have enough money for medical expenses?”
He squeezed my hand. “I don’t want your money.”
“We’re friends.” As close to friends as we could be.
Niles resided in California when we weren’t doing music life together.
“I appreciate that, but—”
I shook my head. “There are no buts. We’re friends, and I can help.” I leaned forward. “Let me help. Please, Niles.”
His head dipped low, and I reached for his hand, squeezing it in comfort and assurance that I would be there. Not sure he’d get all of that from a squeeze, but I could hope.
“Thanks, Hol,” he mumbled.
“Think nothing of it. Have the hospital call me or whatever is the easiest way to take care of everything.”
As Mac drove me home, my heart was heavy. Part of me wanted to seek Wally and asked him what his God would say about Nile’s diagnosis. Instead, I laid my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes, tears falling silently.
Chapter Eighteen
Today was the day. The music fest for Molly would start at noon at the stage in Central Park. I couldn’t wait.
I danced my way to my closet and grabbed my navy romper. It had a scalloped neckline and hem which gave the outfit a fun flare. My camel colored stilettos and leather earrings completed the look. Makeup would be done at the venue.
The crew had already retrieved my guitar and all the materials necessary for our set. All that remained was for Mac to drop me off.
With a bodyguard to escort me.
I hustled down the stairs and stopped on the second floor to peer into the living room. Wally sat in a wingback chair, book open and an intense look of concentration on his face. A strange flutter flittered in my chest. I cleared my throat.
He looked up, his eyes widening slightly. Did I look bad? I wanted to ask but didn’t want to seem needy. He’d seen me without makeup when we talked about the Bible the other day. Surely I didn’t look like that today.
“Have you seen Fox or Jax?” I figured Fox was with Tori, but you never knew. She was still trying to ditch him every chance she got.
“Tori needed a new outfit for the festival, so they went shopping.”
“They?”
He blinked as if trying to focus. “Tori, Tavia, and the guards.”
“Then I don’t need one?” Fine by me. Having a constant shadow got old quickly.
“Actually, Fox called in a few more guys for the day. There’s already a couple of men from his team at the festival. One will ride with Mac in the front from now on.”
“Oh. So I can just tell Mac I’m ready and the guard will be there?”
Wally nodded. “Right. But I actually wanted to ride with you.” He paused. “If that’s okay?”
“Uh…” Was it? Did I want to be alone with him?
Not really, but I could no longer claim it was because I hated his guts. It was time to admit my feelings had softened somewhat. Still, that didn’t mean I liked the way he made my pulse race like a teenage girl spying the cute guy in the school halls. And it definitely didn’t mean I liked the low tone Wally used when he actually called me Holiday.
Shivers went up my arms. “Are you ready?”
“I am.” He stood, sliding a bookmark in place before setting the book on the coffee table.
He wore a light blue shirt and some khakis. Way too appealing.
I motioned for him to follow me and sent a quick text to Mac, who assured us he’d be out front. We locked up and Wally held the car door open for me. I gulped as I passed him, sliding across the leather seats and as far away from him as possible. He was lethal to my peace of mind.
Awkwardness clung to me worse than a load of staticky laundry. What should I say? Could anything dispel this feeling? Our relationship had been so much easier when it was antagonistic versus all this seriousness and whatnot. I sighed. “Can I be honest?”
His eyebrows lifted. “I’d love that.”
“Hold the praise until you hear what I have to say.”
He chuckled.
“I feel awkward around you.”
“Why?” He leaned toward me as if hanging on my every word.
“I’m used to trading insults. And now that I’ve told myself to chill, I can’t think of anything to say.” Besides how good looking you are. Seriously, what did a girl talk about when her head was spinning from hormones?
“Why did you decide to be nice?”
“Your sister told me to consider you’ve grown up.”
“You didn’t know that?” Humor laced his tone.
“Of course I did.” It was kind of hard not to see the definition in his arms. Enough to be noticeable, yet not so much it detracted from his overall appearance. Heat filled my face as I realized how I’d said it. “I didn’t mean to place so much emphasis.”
“Sure you didn’t.”
“Really, I didn’t.”
He laughed. “I’m messing with you.”
“Oh. Good. Since I’ve agreed to stop hating your guts, you need to agree to take the nicknames down a notch, and I guess somewhere in between we’ll figure out what to talk about.”
“Everything.”
“What?” I peered at him, trying to decipher that odd note that had crept into his voice. “What do you mean?”
“We can talk about anything and everything that comes to mind.”
“Really?” My lips pursed as I pursued this line of thinking. He was giving me carte blanche? So not a good thing to offer me.
“I promise I won’t balk.”
I asked the first thing that popped into my mind. “Why don’t you date?”
“Who said I don’t?”
My stomach twisted. He did? I interlaced my fingers to prevent the tremors from showing. I felt ridiculous but couldn’t explain why. “Who was your last girlfriend?”
“A woman I met on assignment in Australia. We dated the entire four months I was there.”
“What happened?”
“She said I held back.”
“Huh.” Were you supposed to bare all to people you dated? “Did you agree with her?”
He tilted his head as if considering my question then straightened it. “Actually, yes. Though at the time, I thought she was being a little needy.”
I laughed. “I can see that. But now you think differently?”
“I do. I think when you’re with the right person, nothing is off limits because you trust them. You trust them to take care with your secrets. Your dreams. The love you’re offering them.”
My breath hitched, and I struggled to fill my lungs. That had to be the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard. And mind-numbingly terrifying. “How do you know you can trust that person?”
“They show it. In everything they do, they prove they can be trusted.”
I bit my lip as an intense ache so filled my being. I wanted to trust someone. Wholeheartedly. But who? A whisper stirred something deep in my soul. I glanced at Wally, then averted my gaze to the partition. “Is that why you believe? Because God proved Himself to you?”
“He did.”
“And you think you can find that in a romantic relationship as well?”
Wally propped his right ankle on his left knee. “I pray I can. From the moment I decided I wanted to marry, I prayed for my future wife. Prayed that God would be very present in her life. That He would protect her and bless her. That I would know when I found her and be the man she needs me to be.”
Oh. My. Heart. I had to look away from the earnest expression in his eyes as tears filled mine. What would it be like to know that someone out there cared enough to pray for me? Holiday Brown. Not because I was Rick Brown’s daughter. Not because I’m some heathen pop star who needs Jesus—I’d received plenty of those fan letters, if you could even call them that considering the obvious distaste they expressed—but because I was cared for. Loved.
“Holiday?”
“Yes?” I sniffed.
“God loves you. Jesus loves you.”
Tears spilled over, and I nodded to acknowledge his comment. I didn’t want him to think I was ignoring him, but speech would not be happening anytime soon. I needed to get myself under control. I couldn’t do anything that would alter my voice or make my nose appear like a Christmas lighting special.
I heard a movement before Wally placed his arm around me, giving my shoulder a squeeze. I fell into his embrace. Security cloaked me like a warm blanket and calm slowly pushed away the hurt and tears. The urge to nuzzle my face in the crook of his neck beckoned as I breathed the scent that was purely him. But that was a whole other level of intimacy that surpassed where we were in our friendship.
Could I even call him a friend? I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Anytime.” He pulled away, looking at me. He drew a finger down my cheek. “I’m praying for you.”
I offered a tremulous smile before breaking the embrace completely. We were almost to the venue, and my brain had no place for the feelings Wally brought to mind.
By an unspoken agreement, he slid back to his spot, and our conversation returned to the superficial. Still, my mind savored the feeling of his arms wrapped around me and how safe I had felt within them.
Chapter Nineteen
I rotated my neck clockwise a few times and then counterclockwise. Then I jiggled my arms, wiggling my fingers as I quietly ran through scales. It was my pre-concert ritual. One that assured my body would be limber and ready to move to the songs I sang, even though I didn’t use choreography as such. I’d never be a Beyoncé, Jennifer Lopez, or the other talented artists who could dance and sing.
Finally, the announcer said my name, and I sauntered onto the stage, waving at the crowd.
“Hello, New York!”
The crowd thundered, and I scanned the front row for Molly. Catching her eye, I gave a little wave.
“Let’s give a big shout out to Molly! This wouldn’t be possible without her courage!”
The audience cheered and began chanting her name. I knew the projection screens would beautifully capture Molly’s beaming smile. Her father raised her onto his shoulders and turned, allowing her to wave to the crowd.
“Molly, this one is for you.”
I started with “Melody in my Soul” and smiled as the crowd sang along. The band was on fire as I sang and bopped to the groove. We entered seamlessly into “Hey, There,” and finally “Brave.”
I kept eye contact with Molly and her family as the words poured out of my heart. By the last note, not a single eye remained dry.
“Thank you so much for inviting me to sing for you, Molly. I can only hope—” I swallowed and licked my lips nervously. “Pray that it honors you as much as you’ve honored me.”
Her dad placed her on the stage, and she ran to me, squeezing my legs in a big hug.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“My pleasure, sweetie.” I bent down and hugged her. “I know you’ll be okay.”
After she ran back to her dad, I waved to the crowd and followed the band off stage. Adrenaline amped my nerves to jittery levels. Someone offered me a bottle of water, and I gulped the refreshing water down. I wasn’t used to singing just three songs, but now I’d have the time to listen to the artists that followed me.
I listened as the announcer welcomed the band Every Breath. “Who’s Every Breath?”
Niles turned to me. “They’re a Christian group.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
I walked forward, trying to get a view of the stage. A woman stood before the mic, sheathed in a boho maxi dress, her long black hair flowing down her back. She got the crowd excited as she praised Molly’s strength and courage to fight the good fight.
“Molly, remember that God loves you and He’s a good, good Father. His plans for you are good. Rest in that promise.”
My heart thumped as the music began. I strained forward. I didn’t want to miss a single part of their set.
