The Edge of Always

Camryn was happy to find a drummer who knows the song. She was prepared for it to be just the two of us, knowing it wouldn’t sound the same without the drums, too. But when we met Leif yesterday during her waitress training and he agreed to play with us tonight, I think Camryn’s confidence level shot up a few notches.

I slip the guitar strap over my shoulder just as Camryn steps onto the stage.

She walks right up to me, and I lean in toward her ear and say, “You look hot.”

She blushes and looks down at her clothes. She changed out of that cute black top she was wearing and replaced it with another black silky top that hangs low in the back, exposing her skin almost to her waist. The necklace I bought for her dangles in the front, shining against the black. And she let her hair down. I love the braid she always wears, but I have to say, she’s a whole other level of sexy with that long, soft blonde hair falling all about her shoulders.

The voices in the bar carry through the large space, loud even over Leif messing around with the bass drum behind us. All of the tables on the floor are full, as well as the booths lining the back wall. My four “girlfriends” are still here and have migrated from their booth to a table closer to the stage. They seem intrigued that I went from busboy to guitar player. Normally, I would be scanning the audience for my “victim” of the night by now, but tonight is different and there won’t be any of that from either one of us. Camryn’s too nervous and focused to try pulling off our usual.

After we finally get set up and are ready to begin, Camryn holds her breath for a moment and looks over at me.

I wait for her to give me the go, and when I see her nod I start to play, and all eyes in the room turn to us. That guitar riff always manages to turn heads in a crowded room. And Camryn, the second she starts to sing, she does like I always do and becomes someone completely different, so much so that it stuns me. She owns it. It’s so unlike how she has been during every one of our practices together. Confidence and sexiness exudes from every line in the song and every movement she makes and my entire body reacts to it.

“Ooo, baby, ooo, ooo!” I join in with the chorus.

But everybody’s looking at her, even my four girlfriends, who I know at first moved closer to check me out. No, they now belong to Camryn for the most part, and it makes me proud.

Before the first verse is even over, the dance floor is packed with bodies. The power and sex in Camryn’s voice mixed with the fascination everyone has for her performance sends me over the edge, and I hammer out that riff with more devotion than before.

“Ooo, baby, ooo, ooo!”

Every few seconds I hear a voice scream in the background: “Wooooo!” and again, each time Camryn hits a moving note.

And I can’t get enough.

I sing my heart out along with her to the next two choruses, and I know the fourth verse that she always got tripped up on is next. I look over, still moving my pick fast over the strings, my back arched, and I don’t see a nervous muscle in her face. She’s got this; I can tell by looking at her that there’s no way she’s going to screw it up.

And then the words come and go so fast and flawlessly from her lips that I feel my face stretched to its limits with a smile as I follow loudly into the next chorus line with her.

Damn, my baby owns this song. Look out, Stevie Nicks!

Passing the middle of the song, Camryn sings: Oooo! And her voice fades in that ominous part of the song which allows her voice a short rest.

But the guitar riff goes on and on. It’s exhausting, but my fingers never stop, never miss a beat.

Camryn and I look at each other and share a moment. Then she starts singing again, and I join in where I’m supposed to.

She sings on, both of her hands come up to grip the microphone stand, her eyes shut as she belts out with so much emotion, “Yeah! Yeah!”

Then she looks right at me again and keeps her eyes trained on mine while she belts out the next verse as if she’s singing solely for me.

Shivers run up my spine. I grin and fall back into the guitar until the song is over.

The audience erupts with shouts and screams. Camryn takes a bow first, and then I follow. She’s smiling so hugely as she looks out at the crowd, and it kind of chokes me up a little inside.

Keeping the guitar strapped around my body, I push it behind my back and walk right over to her, then lift her off the floor and into my arms. There are whistles and shouts all around us, but all I really notice is Camryn looking back at me. I kiss her deeply, and the crowd whistles and shouts even louder.

Before the night is over, we end up playing a full ten-song gig to a growing crowd as the hours wear on. We go back to sing some of our favorites: “Barton Hollow,” “Hotel California,” and “Birds of a Feather,” among others, and each song seems to please the audience as much as the previous one. I don’t do a solo tonight, even though at one point Camryn asks me to. This was her night and only her night. I refused to be the center of attention even for one song.

We make it back to our hotel by two in the morning, and I’m gladly paying up on the bet I lost.

27

“German seems to think we’re going to be here for a while,” I say with the right side of my face pressed into the mattress. “I told him it was only temporary.”

Andrew’s magical hands knead both sides of my back from my shoulders down to my waist, and I’m putty in his hands. I just lay here and soak up this massage as if I’ve never had one before. I can hardly open my eyes. He sits on top of my nearly naked body, straddling my waist.

“Yeah, he pulled me off to the side once and asked me what time we were going to play tomorrow night.” Andrew chuckles and presses the tips of all ten fingers deeply into my flesh and moves his hands in a solid circular motion.

I moan underneath him.

“We can stay for a few more days,” he says, “but I think we should move on soon.”

“I agree. Besides, the mosquitos in Mobile are horrendous! Did you see the apocalyptic swarm around the light poles after we left tonight?”

Andrew ignores the question and says, “You really did awesome tonight. I knew you’d do great, but I have to say, I didn’t expect that.”

I finally open my eyes and peer off toward the window. “What exactly?” I ask.

His hands never stop kneading my back. “You got up on that stage and just owned it. You have a natural- born talent.”

“I don’t know about that,” I say. “But I am proud of myself. I don’t know what came over me, really. I just shed the nervous feeling in my gut and went with it.”

“Well, it worked,” he says.

“Only because you were there with me,” I say.

We remain silent for several minutes, my eyes closed again as his massage gradually threatens to send me into dreamland. The blood around my eyes feels light; my entire head tingles, and the back of my neck shivers when he works his fingertips into my scalp.

Before his full hour is over with, I start to feel bad for making him do it so long that I open my eyes and say, “If you’re tired, you can stop.”

And when he doesn’t stop, I make him stop by turning around and lying on my back. He lies on top of me and kisses me lightly on the lips. And we stare at each other for a moment, searching each other’s eyes, studying each other’s lips. I feel him pressing into my body below, and his mouth closes over mine in a passionate kiss as he begins to make love to me.