In the Lyrics (3 page)

“Well, come on. Let’s set up and show them we’re the best duo this town has ever seen.”

The mere fact that he truly believes we are the best Nashville has ever seen makes me smile from ear to ear.

We walk a few more feet until we reach a small area on the corner of a busy street where there are a few benches lined up. Choosing the one closest to the street to sit on, he hands me my case – my mom’s case she used when she was my age. It’s old and worn, but it means a lot to me. Opening it, I remove my trusty guitar then push the empty case towards the sidewalk. Pedestrians are already starting to crowd around us and we haven’t even played the first note yet. That’s a good sign. I really need some fast cash, and I am hoping to get that tonight.

This is what we do; this is who we are. Entertainers. The sucky part is the income isn’t as steady as we’d like, and in order to make ends meet we both have to keep shitty jobs. Well, not the riding center. That’s a decent place to work and I love being able to work with Logan – when he isn’t being a total lame-ass and pining for me – and the kids, but it’s only during the summer and a few days a week. I also waitress and Dusty works in the kitchen at a rundown restaurant. Thank goodness we were both scheduled off tonight. The beginning of summer means more people will be out and about, trying to get in as many hoorahs before the next semester starts come August.

The orange and purple streaked sky is an indication the sun is close to setting. It’s only half visible from behind the strip of buildings where we are sitting. Instead of having an announcer introduce our duet, I strum my guitar allowing the soft sound to make our introduction. Dusty pulls his baseball cap out of his back pocket and places it on his head. It does nothing to mask his charming looks. He has actually been confused with Lenny Kravitz a time or two, but to me, he puts Lenny to shame. Who would have ever guessed he’d end up following in ole Lenny’s footsteps as a musician? It’s lucky for him that things have worked out that way, although his situation hasn’t really been all bad. For the most part people in our small town, on the outskirts of the music capital, have had more to worry about than some strange kid being gay and marching to the beat of his own drum.

People in our town are more worried about how they are going to feed their families. The recession took us by surprise and cut us at the knees with no means to run. So we’ve been sitting, waiting for things to change, while watching the big leaguers that have corporate jobs in the city and their preppy bitch daughters who attended my high school bathe in cash. While the remaining blue-collar population was struggling to keep the electricity on, Brittani and her posse were nose deep in designer bags and heated debates about who was hotter. Frankly, they’re all ugly, soulless bitches, but I have bigger things to worry about.

Daddy got diagnosed with lung cancer, when he’d never puffed on a cigarette in his life, and then he got laid off. My mom almost had a mental breakdown trying to figure out how we were going to stay afloat. Between the doctor bills that were rolling in and my tuition, I felt like I was in a sand pit that was slowly swallowing me whole. The only things that help, my only real escapes from life, are my music, Dusty, and my dream of leaving this town and never looking back. I guess that’s a lie…I’d come back to make sure my parents were okay, or I’d drag them across the county line with me.

My fingers rotate the silver knobs on my guitar, tuning it just right. Sensing someone’s eyes on me, I glance up and instantly feel my pulse start to race. For a few peculiar seconds, time stands still as I look into the crowd at his face, one I don’t recognize. It’s not hard to memorize the faces you see all the time, whether it’s on campus, at the restaurant, or from playing so many nights out here on the streets. I’ve become oddly familiar with a lot of them around here, but not
his
. He is wearing tight Wrangler jeans – I don’t need to see the label. I’d bet every dollar tossed into my open guitar case on that one. Every cowboy wanna-be within a five-mile radius is sporting them tonight. He is tall and his frame is built. Like most men around here, his body seems accustomed to our country lifestyle. My eyes graze over his size and stature, and when they land on his face he turns away in a mad attempt to act like he wasn’t staring, checking me out too. I’m not dumb, but whatever. Rolling my eyes, I shake off the strange encounter. Pushing it away, I turn my head in Dusty’s direction, and nod.

That’s his cue.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” His twang is apparent as he shouts to the small crowd now standing in a circle around us. Amidst the sounds of a few men whistling, a couple of women calling out, and the rowdy bunch of females standing very close to Dusty, I see
him
again. Still staring, still sticking out like he isn’t quite sure what is about to happen, but this time when we make eye contact, I feel something different. Anxiety? Why on earth would I be nervous?

He doesn’t clap. He doesn’t shout or hoot, like the people standing next to him. Instead he bows his head and nods. Holy shit,
stop the clock.
He is a real fucking cowboy, and raising his head back up he is watching me like no one has ever done before. The look in his eyes, the fire that’s burning in his pupils is visible from a few feet away. My cheeks instantly redden, but I don’t dare move and break the lock our eyes are holding on one another. No one has ever beheld me like this. His eyes are talking as his mouth stands still, closed and mute. Normally men look at me as if they want to gobble me up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Trust me, the thought alone sends chills down my spine, and not in a good way. They just see my body and my curves, but not me, not the real Hensley – the girl who would sell her soul to the devil to get out of this town, the girl who never batted an eye in an attempt to get things she wanted, unlike most girls she graduated with from high school. People only see what their eyes show them, and looks can be deceiving.

Tossing aside the staring match, I do my best to stow my need to steal another glance at him. Looking to my right, I see Dusty gawking at me. We briefly make eye contact, and then he turns his head forward and scans the crowd. I know he’s looking for the reason I am sitting dumbstruck and flushed. He’s never seen that look on me before. Truthfully, I’ve never seen that look on myself. I’m half-tempted to grab my purse and pull my compact out, just to catch a glimpse of my rosy-cheeked self.

Dusty’s voice interrupts my stupor as he starts to introduce us once again, “Hens…” His words fall flat as he hops up off the bench without warning and reads a text message on his phone. He always turns his phone off, so this behavior is unexpected. The crowd looks confused by his sudden retreat and I’m sure my expression does too.
What is he doing?
I watch as he moves his keyboard stand over and then strolls towards the crowd. His movement is casual, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, or isn’t bothered in the slightest that we were just about to start our performance and make some cash. There isn’t much my best friend loves more than making music and making money, so whatever, or whomever, he is headed to see must be important.

Narrowing my eyes as I sit, not moving, I watch him as he grabs the dude that was mind-fucking my soul, and pulls him into one of those sideways man hugs. I wonder how they know each other. It’s a rare occurrence that Dusty knows someone I don’t, and I know for certain that if Dusty finally found himself a boy-toy, there would be no way in hell he would be able to contain his excitement, so I scratch that off my list first.
Oh shit.
They’re both walking back over in my direction.

“Baby girl, I want you to meet someone.” Dusty extends his hand to me. I take it as he pulls me forward. Standing up on my feet, I steady myself and find I’m face to face with the stranger who was glaring holes into my head. “Hensley, this is Colby.”

My brain tries frantically to recall him ever mentioning a Colby. “I’m sorry, but am I supposed to know who Colby is?” Nothing comes to mind as I bite the inside of my cheek. Something I do when I’m tense. Picking up on it, Dusty trails his hand around my waist. His touch calms me.

“My new roommate, baby girl. This is Colby…you know, Colby Grant? Turns out he didn’t have much keeping him down south anymore, so he decided to come up a month before he was supposed to.”

To say I’m shocked is an understatement.
This is his new roommate?
My throat feels dry. I swallow all the spit in my mouth in an attempt to coat it enough so I don’t hack up a lung right here. This is the amazingly talented man from Texas he mentioned a few weeks ago? The man who looked at me and for a split second, with a few exchanged glances, made me feel like the love songs I write and sing about aren’t just meaningless words... like caring about someone is actually…
what the heck am I talking about? Who am I?
I’m not going to be one of those puppy-love girls who gets knocked up and never leaves this town. That’s who I’m not going to be. Taking a deep breath I try my best to keep the bitchy tone out of my voice, “I’m Hensley.”

His lips part, illuminating his straight, white smile, and the sight of his dimples takes my breath away. Really? He had to have adorable, sexy dimples to add to his already alluring stature?

He clears his throat and then speaks in a deep, Southern voice that sounds like he smoked too many cartons of cigarettes, but is oddly sexy at the same time. “Yeah, I know who you are. Dusty’s filled me in quite a bit.”

I can feel Dusty pinching me. His arm is still wrapped around my side, and I know it’s his way of asking me to play nice. I hold my hand out in front of me, attempting to look somewhat polite, if only for Dusty’s sake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say, as he pulls his hand out of his pocket and reaches out to me.

“Trust me, the pleasure’s all mine, Sunshine,” he whispers as we shake, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

WHEN DUSTY TOLD me Hensley was his best friend, he seemed to have left out the part about her being undeniably stunning. And I don’t mean adorable, cute, or even sexy. She is pick-your-bottom-jaw-up-off-the-ground gorgeous. There’s no comparison to the women that are standing around me in denim shorts and calf-length cowboy boots. No, these women don’t come close to Hensley’s natural beauty. Even in her casual outfit of worn jeans, a maroon tank top that dips low enough that I can see the outline of her plump breasts, scuffed up boots, and a brown leather belt with a big buckle, she is an absolute beauty. And her hair – I’ve never really paid much attention to a woman’s hairstyle before, but the way her brunette waves cascade down her shoulders makes her even more breathtaking. I catch myself staring at her mouth, watching her tongue glide across her lower lip, wetting it right before it parts.

“Don’t call me Sunshine again. You’d do well to remember that, Colby.” Her threat tells me she is feistier than the sweet and innocent charm she wears on her sleeve. I smirk, but don’t retaliate. Lord knows I don’t want to upset my roommate’s best friend on my first night in town.

“Yes, ma’am.” I nod as a tall blonde accidentally bumps into me and then leans on my side to steady herself. I can smell the familiar aroma of alcohol on her breath before she even opens her red, glossy lips to speak.

“Oops,” she slurs while holding a small, silver flask that confirms my suspicions. She’s lit. There is no doubt about it.

Grabbing on to the back of her arm right above her elbow, I try to help her stand upright. “You all right there?”

Giggling through small hiccups, she tries to speak, “I am now, cowboy.”

The blonde is attractive, like any tall, tan blonde would be. But her looks are nothing compared to the beauty Hensley portrays. She takes one more gulp from her flask before handing it off to another chick behind her. I hear her entourage laugh as they pass it around.

“I’m Brittani, and you must be…?”

“New in town,” I finish her sentence with a smirk on my face. Momma always said if a woman throws herself at you, she isn’t wife material. That I’d be able to tell the difference between a piece of ass and a piece of my future. I know she’s right, but damn, I am a man with nothing but pure testosterone running through my veins. Brittani is good looking, and I am sure she’s a real sweetheart, but more than anything she is flaunting her shit around, just begging for the D. That’s not really my style. Clearing my throat, I know she is in no shape to drive home, and I’m not in a position to drive her. I just got here; I haven’t even been to my apartment yet. Then there’s the fact that I just met the most gorgeous girl who’s ever walked this earth. A girl who isn’t shimmying her chest in my face, a sure sign she’s a keeper.

“Brittani, I think you are far past wasted. Who’s driving you home, darlin’?”

“I’d love for you to – what did you say your name was?”

“Colby,” I huff, now annoyed by her drunken presence.

“I’d love if you would take me home, Colby.” Her voice is low and seductive. The guys back home would think I was an utter moron to turn down this one, but for some reason my gut is telling me to steer clear. Like tuck my tail and run away from her without a second glance back. She seems like trouble, and trouble is the last thing I came here for. Over the purrs of want coming out of Brittani’s parted lips, I hear the voice of an angel. The sound cuts through me like glass as my eyes dart back toward the sidewalk where the noise is coming from. I hadn’t even noticed that she and Dusty walked away. The blonde bimbo had my attention.