Just
One
Song
Table of Contents
Title Page
Just One Song (Just One...)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Just
One
Song
Lynn Stevens
JUST ONE SONG Copyright © 2020 Lynn Stevens
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Published by Lynn Stevens
www.lstevensbooks.com
Cover design by Angela Haddon Book Cover Design
Also by Lynn Stevens
Roomies
Swipe Left for Love
Rebel Princess
Westland University Series
Full Count
Game On
Stealing Home
Girls of Summer Series
Extra Innings
The Rebound
Just One... Series
Just One Summer
For Bean
CHAPTER ONE
The microphone slipped in my shaking hands. I gripped it tighter, hoping that would help. Between my sweaty palms and quivering fingers, it was a miracle I hadn’t dropped it ten times. I smoothed down my cream-colored dress. The gold sparkles were meant to stand out, but now I wished I’d worn the black jeans my best friend suggested.
“Cami,” Iris Addison had said as I twirled in front of the mirror. “Hank Walker isn’t looking for a good little girl to sing back up. He’s gonna want a sex goddess.”
I’d glared at her.
“Okay, a sex goddess in the making.” Her gaze ran up and down my outfit. She’d wrinkled her nose in a way only Iris could do. “Please don’t wear that.”
“I’ll stand out,” I’d insisted, as I applied a pink lip gloss that would shine in the spotlight.
“Not in a good way,” Iris had mumbled, but she didn’t try to get me to change again.
The lump in my throat grew until even breathing became hard. It sounded like I’d sprinted a marathon. This was a bad idea. There was no way I could stand in front of Hank Walker and sing. I stepped back once, then twice.
But it was too late.
“You’re up,” a woman said behind me. When I hesitated, she pushed me forward onto the stage. “Damn kids,” she muttered.
I managed not to stumble, but her shove had been hard enough that it catapulted me into the spotlight.
“Name,” a disembodied voice said from somewhere near the back of the orchestra seats.
The light was too bright to see anything other than white and shadows. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe I could do this. I put the mic too close to my lips. When I said, “Cami... I mean, Cameron Harris,” a loud zap of feedback echoed in the cavernous Mountain View Theater. The woman who had shoved me onto the stage ran out and turned down my mic. She nodded and ran back. “Cameron Harris,” I said again without the feedback. My voice sounded like the squeak of a dog toy.
“Go ahead with your selection,” the voice said.
I swallowed and closed my eyes. Breathe in, breathe out... but the music didn’t start. I’d selected “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Miserables. Just two weeks ago, I’d been onstage at Branson North High singing as Fantine and bearing my soul to a crowd of parents, teachers, and classmates. It was my final bow and I’d do anything to go back and do it again. Wearing Fantine’s rags, letting her sorrow fill me, it was like being inside someone else’s life.
Maybe I should’ve worn the jeans.
“We’re waiting,” the voice said again, this time with an added touch of irritation.
Panic filled my chest, my throat. The heat of the lights, or the nervous fear, drew sweat from my skin. It felt like I’d been lost in rainforest for two hours. Or maybe two weeks. My dress stuck to my body. My breath faded into gasps. The lyrics to the song disappeared from my head.
I opened my mouth and something else entirely came out. The first notes, low and deep in my throat, of “Amazing Grace” rumbled from my lips. It surprised me that this is what my mind conjured. I focused on my words, the cadence of the melody, the way my body relaxed as each word dragged from me like it needed to be freed. I’d only ever sang it in church, and our congregation was small. It was private and comforting and so not appropriate for this situation.
So I sang like my life depended on it.
When the last note died on my lips, I stood waiting judgment.
After a long pause, all I heard was a terse, “Thank you.”
My heart fell to my knees, making me even more unsteady on my feet. I bowed slightly and turned to walk off stage. The woman ushered another girl past me. I stopped at the edge of the stage and watched. She wasn’t a girl by any means. In the lights, the heavy makeup and the wrinkles she’d tried to cover stood out. As did the raven dye covering the light brown hair of her roots. She wore black skin-tight jeans, a black t-shirt shredded at the shoulders, and high heeled boots. The exact outfit Iris wanted me to wear. And this woman wore it better than I ever could.
“Crystal Hart,” she said when prompted.
A guitar riff rang from the speakers. Her voice exploded, high yet husky. She sang “I Hate Myself for Loving You” by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts. Despite wanting to actually hate this woman, I found myself singing along, harmonizing with her.
Dad had told me when I was younger that to be a singer I needed to know all the songs. That was impossible, but I made a point to study country, classic rock, alternative, jazz, and Broadway. Anything that might give me an edge. Anything that might make me stand out against the millions of wannabe singers. Anything to give me a chance.
The woman finished her selection with a pure rock goddess yell.
