In the Lyrics Read online

  “Hey, is Mitch here?” I ask the bartender as Hensley and Dusty stand behind me holding their equipment.

  “He sure is, sugar. And can I ask what you need to see him for?” she asks with an inviting smile. Taking a peek at Hensley, I can see her glower in my direction. Let’s just say she is a little jealous.

  “We’re here to play.”

  “Ohmigod,” she squeaks in a full sentence without taking a breath. “I didn’t realize. Y’all follow me to the green room. It isn’t much, but Mitch likes to make sure everyone is comfortable. The bar is fully stocked and if there’s anything else ya need just holler and I’ll get it.” She ushers us into a small room with a loveseat, coffee table, and small dry bar in the corner. “Make yourselves comfortable.” Before she shuts the door, she says, “What did you say your name was again?” Her eyes lock with mine and I know she’s not only asking me, but also flaunting her shit around.

  Realizing I never said my name, I make the introductions. “I’m Colby and this is Hensley, my girlfriend,” just to make that clear, “and Dusty.”

  Giving a demure smile, she doesn’t bother to introduce herself. Instead she whispers, “Hmm, it’s a shame,” and then shuts the door. Before I have time to turn around Hensley is making herself a drink.

  Holding her hands up in the air, she says, “What? She said it was a stocked bar. Who am I to pass up an opportunity like that?”

  “Seriously?” I ask in a scolding tone. Sometimes I just want to shake her. She knows alcohol doesn’t cure anything. For two kids with fathers who like to tip back the bottle a little too much, you’d think she would see that drinking is never the solution to anything.

  “I’m about to kill a bitch, so yeah, seriously.”

  Dusty chimes in, “You two fight like an old married couple, and it’s only been a few months. Just think about the rest of your lives. You’re going to be miserable if you don’t nip this shit in the bud now.”

  Hensley and I both burst into laughter. We know it’s all in good fun; we’re not actually bickering. Okay, we are, but it’s harmless. Hensley kicking the woman’s ass isn’t, but us mouthing off to one another is.

  “What’s so funny? Oh, wait. It’s because the makeup sex is worth it, huh?” We don’t answer him. “Yup, you’re just like a married couple. I’ll leave you be for a few.” Then he turns on his heels and leaves us standing staring at the door he exited from.

  The couch is coarse against my skin as I sit down and stretch my arms out along the back. My bare arms feel like they were just mauled by a bear.

  “Come here, Sunshine.”

  “No,” she mopes. “Just let me be mad and jealous for a minute.”

  Standing up, I lean forward in the small room and grab her waist and then pull her to me. She falls onto my lap as my ass hits the cushion in one swift motion. My lips find the exposed skin on her neck, and I kiss it. Knowing it will drive her wild, I do it to try and relax her. I don’t know what’s got her wound so tight.

  “Colby, stop! Your redheaded slut might come barging back in here and see you with me,” she calls out as her body stiffens in my arms.

  And there lies the root of the problem. Not in a million years would I have guessed how insecure Hensley really is, but she is as doubtful as they come. I hate thinking that she questions my feelings or even loyalty to her. She’s been hurt in the past.

  “Put your hands down and look at me,” I whisper into her ear. She turns her head, but her facial expression isn’t genuine. She doesn’t want to hear what I have to say, but damn if she isn’t going to listen. “You know darn well that I don’t give a rat’s ass about that bartender. Who’s sitting on my lap? Who sleeps next to me in my bed?” She doesn’t blink. “You do. Not that chick who’s flaunting her shit around like she’s Betty Boop or someone special. What do I have to do to prove to you how much you mean to me?” It’s either now or never. I love her. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been planning on telling her, but if those three simple words that are packed with so much meaning get her out of this funk – I’m going to say them.

  “Do you know the first thing that I noticed about you?”

  She shakes her head no.

  “It was your confidence. I had just gotten to town and was going to grab a bite to eat and then call Dusty, but I saw this girl sitting on the street corner.”

  “I felt like you were staring holes in my head,” she says softly.

  “Truthfully, I was. Anyway, once you started to sing…it was like…ya know when your favorite song comes on the radio and you’re jammin’, listening to every word, your heads bobbin’, and you’re just feeling the music, but then your phone rings and you know it’s a call you can’t miss? There’s a split second where you debate on pressing forward to voicemail so you can finish the song, but you’ve been waiting for this call, so you turn down the radio knowing you’ll miss your favorite part just to answer it. It was like you were my favorite song, and I was forwarding my calls to voicemail. In that moment, I didn’t care who was standing around me. All I was worried about was tuning in to you, listening to your voice.”

  “I love you.” Those three simple words are spoken, and much to my amazement it’s Hensley that says them first.

  Clutching her face hard in my hands, I kiss her. I kiss her for being so darn dumb and insecure, for acting like a jealous girl, and more importantly, for loving me through it all. Our panting becomes louder as we fight for air, not wanting to break this moment. Pulling back, I look into my girlfriend’s eyes and say, “There is no one in this entire world I want sitting here, in my lap or beside me on stage. I love you, Hensley Elaine Bradley. Don’t ever doubt that again. Okay, Sunshine?”

  She beams, “Say it again.”

  “I love you. I’ll say it a hundred times a day, if that’s what will make you happy, woman.”

  Leaning in, she nudges my nose with hers. “You’re what makes me happy, Colby. Just you. It’s just…you know…I have daddy issues.”

  “What?” I ask knowing that I sort of know what she is talking about from what Dusty’s told me.

  “Nothing…I just have trust issues, okay?”

  Kissing her briefly, I reassure her there isn’t a reason not to trust me. She hasn’t come out and completely explained her trust issues yet, but I know why they’re there, and I do my best to respect her because of it. She doesn’t have anything to worry about. I’d never hurt her like her dad hurt her mom.

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Dusty comes back to the green room – more like closet – and greets us with Mitch by his side. He’s a pretty cool fella for an older man. You can tell he lives and breathes this place. He’s invested in his business, and that makes us that much more eager to give him and his patrons a good show. This isn’t the first time the three of us have played together. We’ve been practicing for weeks in the apartment. The good part is Hensley’s almost as good on her acoustic as I am, and we were able to blend our style of bluegrass with Dusty’s modern touch.

  “So what’s the name of your group?” he asks as we follow him down a narrow hallway towards the stage.

  We all three freeze. We’ve never talked about it before. Making music together has all been for fun; we’ve never actually considered being a group or anything.

  “What about something with strings?” I say out loud.

  Mitch laughs, “So you mean to tell me you don’t even have a name for yourselves yet?”

  “That’s what we’re telling ya,” Hensley says as she reaches forward and grabs my hand.

  Giving her a squeeze, I ask, “How about Chasing Strings? We’re all chasing music and…”

  “It’s badass,” Dusty chimes in.

  As we near the back steps of the stage, we all agree on our name and confirm it with Mitch. He shakes his head at us, most likely thinking we’re a bunch of amateurs without a lick of talent.

  Climbing onto the dimly lit stage, he introduces us. “I want y’all to raise your glasses and give a hearty welcome to
Chasing Strings!”

  The small crowd erupts into applause and I’m reminded why I love to play. These people, these complete strangers get a glimpse into my soul, and for a little while, I’m not just some dude sitting on a stage; I’m some dude that makes them feel something real. Provoking that kind of emotion out of someone with my voice and my guitar, that’s magic, and that’s why I do this.

  Hensley and I sing and Dusty plays behind us. I’m amazed at how good we actually sound. It just goes to show how much practicing really pays off. Sometimes I wonder how these big entertainers get their big breaks. Some were overnight sensations, some busted their asses for years playing in hole-in-the-wall bars, and some simply gain recognition getting hits on their web sites. Whatever the reason, hard work and perseverance are behind it, there’s no doubt about that. And it takes a village to make a living as an artist. Yes, you make the music. It’s your voice that plays on the radio, but there’s so much more behind the scenes. You have your band, your agent, your label, your recording studio folks, all of those people standing behind you make up your family. Standing here, singing beside mine, makes me feel complete, like we can tackle this industry. It’s not just me anymore. I want Hensley and Dusty to succeed just as much as I want this dream for myself. Who knows? We might get our big break together as Chasing Strings.

  We play six original songs and then announce that we’re taking a break. The small bar has filled up since we got here a little over two hours ago. I spot two men, older, both wearing business suits. They stick out like a couple of sore thumbs here in a downtown honky-tonk bar where everyone is decked out in jeans, boots, and the occasional cowboy hat. One nods in my direction as Hensley grabs my hand and leads me to the bar. Nodding back, I look away and forget them.

  “Great set, baby,” the redhead shouts from behind the bar and over the jukebox that’s playing an old Willie Nelson song. Trying to ignore her, I grab Hensley by the sides and pull her in front of me. If I have to dry hump her to prove I’m taken, I’ll happily oblige.

  Mitch should sure be happy tonight. This place is packed. Hensley’s body starts to move as she dances to the music. There’s nowhere else for her to rub, other than right against me. I’m not complaining. There is nothing sexier than a woman getting lost in the music, but a woman getting lost while her ass is grinding on me, yeah…that’s pretty sexy. Especially when the woman is mine.

  Willie’s song ends and ‘Boot Scootin’ Boogie’ by Brooks and Dunn comes on next.

  “I love this song. Come on.” Hensley beams as she turns to stroll towards the small, wooden dance floor. Following her lead, I interlace our fingers so we don’t get lost in the crowd. She stops and turns around, so we are merely inches apart. I don’t know what has gotten into her tonight, maybe it’s the hint of jealousy that’s making her stake her claim over me. Whatever it is, I like it. She holds her hand in the air, and makes a come-hither gesture.

  “Come here, cowboy,” she giggles, while trying to remain serious and sexy. She doesn’t have to try hard.

  Inching towards her, she reaches up and holds the palms of her hands on my chest. I can feel them through the thin cloth of my white T-shirt, burning me with desire. Licking my lips, I try to lean in and kiss her but she stops me by turning her cheek. Shot down. Instead she takes a step back, lifts up her hand and blows me a kiss. I’d do anything to be that hand, so close to her lips right now. This whole little encounter seems to have been slower than pond water, but the reality is, we’ve been lost in our own little world for a few minutes. Three minutes and eighteen seconds to be exact. I know this because the song changes once again. I’ve studied that song a million times, and its length has been burned into my brain.

  Luke Bryan’s panty-wetting voice blares over the speakers hung around the bar as ‘Country Girl Shake It for Me’ comes on. I watch as Hensley becomes a temptress and brings her hands up her sides. They slowly drag up her torso, inching her shirt up on their way. I can see a little slit of skin on her stomach.

  She has to know what she’s doing. It’s like I’m a pawn in her little game and she knows it. A smile spreads across her face as I basically stand here, drooling over the erotic princess that stands before me, shaking her hips like a belly dancer. I’m half tempted to toss her over my shoulder, hop in my pick-up, and have my wicked way with her. The thought alone drives me wild, but she’ll tell me when she’s ready.

  COLBY’S BREATHING PICKS up and his eyes stay glued to my hips. I can’t hear him, but I can see his chest rising and falling at an alarming rate. As he watches my every move, I watch him as he falls apart little by little. It’s intriguing, seeing him so worked up like this. He’s the picture perfect boyfriend at all times. When we kiss, it’s never truly making out or anything erotic. When we cuddle, it’s never truly spooning. It’s innocent, and I know he holds back because he’s scared. I’m a virgin, not a nun. And while I’m not really experienced, I still want to feel admired. I want him to want me so badly it physically hurts, and when the pain is too tough to stay away, I want him to succumb to what his body needs. I don’t know how much I can possibly take. After all, I’ve had twenty years for these feelings to accumulate. I know he’s been with a few other girls before, but he’s the one for me. I want to give him this part of me. Something no one else can ever lay claim to. It’s just getting him there to a point where he can accept that I want this and I’m ready. He isn’t pressuring me; I’m ready to have sex.

  Using my body to persuade him, I dance like I was born to do this. My hands wave around spontaneously in the air, and then run through my hair and down my cheeks, hovering right over my breasts. I’ve got his attention now.

  In a quick motion, he reaches out and grabs me. Pulling me close to his body, we come up with our own rhythm. Our jeans rub against one another’s as our bodies become wet with sweat and raw hunger. I know he wants me. I can feel how much through the bulge in his pants. As the song ends, he grabs my arm and turns me around, and he kisses me. It’s an urgent, needy kiss, and when his lips part mine, I forget that we’re standing in a room full of people. My wanting hands roam his muscular body in a dire attempt to get closer to him. Hearing his small groans only excites me more. It’s then that I know how badly he wants me too, and it’s only a matter of time before he gives in to what his body and heart want. It’s his stupid, smart brain that won’t let him have it. There’s an oxymoron for ya.

  He pulls away slightly and then grabs a fistful of my hair. Tugging it, my neck bends backwards so I am looking up at him. His eyes are burning with a thirst and yearning that I know only I can quench for him. He claims he stares at me, drinking me up; well, I stare at him plotting ways to get him to deflower me.

  “I want to cuddle you so hard, Sunshine.”

  My voice is raspy when I say, “I want to make you so hard that you shred my clothes just trying to get them off of me.”

  “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Yeah, that’s what I want to be doing with you right now.” I smile while crinkling my nose, knowing that I’ve gotten to him. It seems like those girls at work were right.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing.” His hold on my hair tightens. It hurts, I’m not going to lie, but if it means I get to feel this, whatever is happening with us right now, I’ll welcome the pain.

  “I know exactly what I’m doing.” And I do. Tonia and Angela told me – two girls from the restaurant. We all know they get around. Their mouths open just as quickly as their legs, so I knew they’d be able to point me in the right direction of how to lure a man in. I cornered them at work and asked them to tell me how to seduce a man. At first they thought I was joking. I obviously wasn’t.

  The music changes again and drunken people bump into us a few times, but we don’t move.

  “Once you give that gift to me, there’s no going back, Hensley. Because once I’ve tasted you, felt you, there’s no way in hell I’d let another man ever come close to you – close to what’s mi
ne.”

  It’s amazing how much sex can bind a person. My momma always said that once I’d had sex she would know. She’d joke and say it was a motherly power that all moms had. I think she’s wrong. One time about my junior year in high school she finally sat me down and gave me the birds and the bees talk. It was really a waste of time, considering I attended public school and most kids my age had already had multiple partners, but nonetheless she gave it to me. Most of the time when people have sex, they’d instantly feel more comfortable around one another, but we’ve never had sex, and I feel as close to Colby as I do to Dusty, and while we’ve never had sex either, he’s been the only man I’d ever let hold me. Really, he’s been the only man I’d let in my heart. So I think having sex with Colby won’t change much, except maybe it will make me adore him more. Now if my mom was right and she does have that motherly instinct and knows, I’ll be in some deep shit, but it will be worth it.

  “I want you to taste me,” I purr, as a hand wraps it way around my waist from behind. My eyes dart to Colby’s, but he doesn’t look mad. It can only mean one thing. “Dusty?” I ask. Colby nods and Dusty continues to dance behind me.

  “Y’all go ahead and enjoy this one. I’m going to sit outside. It’s a little,” Colby coughs, “hot in here.”

  I smile as he turns and walks towards one of the two exit signs.

  Spinning around, Dusty eyes me and then asks, “What’s got his panties in a bunch?”

  “I told him I wanted to have sex, well, kinda.” I shrug casually.

  He acts like he is fake coughing. “Damn, baby girl. That was blunt.”

  Blunt is putting it mildly. That was the most outrageous thing I’ve ever told someone, and it was worth every second of my self-doubt to see the look on Colby’s face when those naughty words left my mouth. A slow Western song comes on and Dusty pulls my body close to his. Colby is still outside, not that it matters. He wouldn’t care that we are dancing, even though I’d much rather be dancing with him.