Sweet Seduction Serenade (2 page)

I snorted at that thought. Genevieve Cain had the most beautiful dark blonde hair, gorgeous face and to-die-for body. But she didn't know it. I'd doubt she even looked at peoples' appearances. Gen's a see-right-through-to-the-soul kind of woman. My soul was OK, I think. I'm not a bad person, I just walked away when it finally got too hard. That's all.

I sighed and reached for my body lotion. I hadn't had much time to use it since I got back, too busy with Dad and his over-stuffed house. Oh, how I missed my peaches and cream. I spent a little extra time massaging it in, making up for neglecting my skin for the past three months. A smattering of make-up, just enough to make sure the lights don't turn me yellow, and my cute little cowgirl dress with matching almost knee high boots. To really get the attention of the male portion of a crowd, you had to show a bit of leg. Some went for tight booties in jeans, but most men want to see skin. It's all part of the show. But I do love this dress. Dark brown, to complement the tan hat and boots, with tan stitching. Short sleeves, piped collar, and an embroidered design coming up from my breasts and framing the collar itself. The final touch was a horse shoe leather belt cinching my waist tight, making the skirt flare out well above my knee.

Thanks to sunny Nashville, I still had a tan, even though I'd been here for three months, I was blessed with maintaining good colour year through. Eight years in Tennessee’s temperate climate, low rainfall environment, had paid off nicely with a deep base tan that lasted. Any skin I showed was a nice golden brown.

I heard Aunty Jessie out in the lounge, surprisingly she was early. Miracles never ceased. I finished getting ready, grabbed my guitar case, wallet and cellphone, and headed out for hopefully a brief farewell.

Of course, my luck never goes like that, does it?

"What the fuck are you wearing, Evangeline Rowe?" Jessie demanded, plump hands on her broad floral material covered hips. "You gonna let her go out like that, Ray?" she demanded of my Dad.

Dad just flicked a glance over his tea at me and shrugged. Yeah, I could count on my Dad to not give two flying fucks about what I wear. The only plus side to a negligent parent; they don't care how short your dress is, or how much make-up you do or don't wear. As long as dinner is served and Dad's got his Lipton Tea, he's all set.

"I don't know what they wear over in that Country and Western town you been living in," Jessie said
County and Western
like it was a bug stuck to the bottom of her shoe, "but in Auckland City we're a bit more sophisticated." She said
sophisticated
with a broad Kiwi accent, so it sounded more like
suhphustuhcaited
. It kind of ruined the meaning a bit.

"I'll be home around midnight. If you need anything I've got my cell, but I may not be able to answer it immediately. It'll be noisy where I'm at," I said, ignoring Jessie's comments altogether. It was always easier to just pretend she hadn't spoken at all.

"Where you going?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her ample bosom.

"Catching up with some old school friends." Which was true, Gen and her best mate Kelly, went to school with me. I didn't hang in their group, but we had a few classes together. We knew each other, that's why when I'd heard she was looking for local musical talent to showcase in her store, I got in touch. It wasn't the sort of thing I'd normally go for, but Gen was cool in school. She
never judged me by my second hand clothes, she never teased me about my trailer-trash mother and the trail of loser ex-boyfriends she left in her wake. She never asked me what my Dad did for a living, knowing darn well he was on the welfare. And when Gabe flunked year nine and had to sit it again, and then flunked that too, she never batted an eyelash. She just smiled, greeted me the same way every day, and often came to listen to me play guitar in the quadrangle during big break.

Genevieve Cain always liked her music - and chocolate and coffee. Sweet Seduction was the perfect shop for her to own.

I hadn't intended on setting up a band while I was here. My
real
band was on a forced break at the moment, what with me gone. But I really thought I'd be back in Nashville by now, Dad's cancer is an aggressive form of bowel cancer. There's no good prognosis, just the inevitable whenever it chooses to arrive. But three months in and he was clinging for life like snot to a fingernail. The man just wouldn't let go. When I turned up on his doorstep, having not seen him for eight years straight, he took it as a sign to dig up all the put-downs and cantankerous demands he'd missed out throwing my way over the years.

We've got eight years of bad-tempered, insult-bearing, father-daughter lovin' to catch up on. He's darn well determined to get it all in.

"Okey dokey then," I announced to the room. "Food's in the kitchen, my number's on the bench. Dad needs to be in bed by nine with his meds half an hour beforehand."

"Yeah, yeah, Miss Hoity-Toity," Jessie waved me away. "I ain't incontinent."

I blinked at her stupidity, but bit my tongue. It just wasn't worth correcting her.

"See ya, Dad. Be good for Aunty Jessie."

Dad made a grunting sound, but his attention was really on his tea and the TV, the rest of us had already been forgotten. Jessie was in for a riveting evening, but for some reason she worshipped the ground her brother walked on. Which was good for me.

I skipped down the driveway and waited patiently for my taxi. I'd ordered it earlier, so hopefully it wouldn't be too much longer. I had a couple of minutes up my sleeve though, so unable to help myself, I opened my guitar case up and pulled out my baby. The first thing I bought when I arrived in Nashville, a Martin D28 Acoustic. Rosewood back and sides, spruce top and mahogany neck. It's the Dreadnought by which all others are judged.

I strummed a few chords, tweaked the pegheads to get the right pitch, then started on my cover version of Garth Brook's
Thunder Rolls
. It's kind of my signature tune. I've even laid a track for it and sent it to a few of the local radio stations. I play it at all the gigs I perform at too. I get requests for it at some of the places I've frequented more than once. The guys and I will be playing it tonight. It always pays to get a little extra practice in though. I'd made it through the first and second verses, and was rocking the chorus, when the taxi pulled up. I stowed my guitar, waved out to the crowd of oldies who'd come out of their council flats to listen and slipped inside the car.

Twenty minutes later we were pulling up outside Sweet Seduction on High Street, in the CBD.

The frontage stood out amongst all of the plain glass and steel trimmed monotony of inner city shopping. Sweet Seduction had curved glass, bordered by little squares of black painted wooden trim. It was hard to make out details through that thick glass, but the lights were on and coloured shapes were moving, so people were obviously already here. I wasn't late, which was a relief, but my old band mates had managed to pip me at the post. I pushed through one of the Old English Pub style doors into an interior that made me stop in my tracks and just gawk.

Black with hot pink and white accents, definitely not Country, but it seemed to work. I was smiling before the door swung shut behind me.

"Retro Rock 'n Roll," I said to Gen as she approached, a big beautiful beaming smile on her dial. She hadn't changed at all since school.

"I was thinking more Glam Rock with a hint of Retro to throw you off the scent. What do you reckon? Does it work?"

"Absolutely, cookie," I drawled, bringing out my best Tennessee.

"Awesome, you've picked up an accent. How cool!" she declared, making me laugh. Those in
Nashville called me Kiwi, my
twang
definitely marking me as not
Tennessee
.

"So, your boys are all here and we'll just hang out on the couches and listen, if that's OK?" she asked, indicating Kelly and a couple of other people I didn't know. "Some more of the guys are turning up in a little bit, is that OK if they listen in too?"

"No skin off my nose," I said shrugging. "All the more the merrier."

"My fiancé’s running late, but I really wanted him to hear your
Thunder Rolls
."

I glanced down at the big rock on her finger. Good for Gen. She deserved a man who'd look after her. If he chose a diamond the size of small grape then he had to have her best interests at heart, right?

"No worries, cookie, that's the third one on our play list."

"Kels, she's singing
Thunder Rolls
," Gen shouted across the room clapping her hands like a school girl.

"Abso-fucking-lutely, posi-fucking-tively, awesome!" Kelly announced, waving out to me, her blonde curled hair bobbing up in down in a bobble-head type nod. These girls enjoyed life, it was plain to see.

Gen introduced me to some of her Sweet Seduction staff. Jane with her short, spiky, brown hair in an elf-like cut and Karla with her blonde dreadlocks and multiple facial piercing. Plus two guys who were obviously partners, old neighbours of Gen's. Wayne in a checked shirt - way to go cowboy - that didn't hide the muscles and handsome face, and a more straight laced Edward. Both equally as relaxed around Gen as they were around her work colleagues.

After the introductions were done I headed over to the guys. I couldn't get all of the old band back together, but thankfully only one had moved on - in his own band - so I had to find someone willing to jam with us for a few months until I returned to Tennessee. The new drummer was a guy named Spike - so
not
a Country band player's name, but the guy could certainly drum a beat. Long brown hair tied back at his neck, tight fitting singlet top to showcase his hard worked for muscles. He was upbeat - excuse the pun - and fitted in well. So far I liked him.

My rhythm guitarist was called Gus and I simply
loved
him. He had three kids and a wife from a large extended family, who wanted nothing of the big lights overseas, so had reluctantly stayed behind when I headed off for fame and glory. Gus had short sandy blond hair and dressed in cowboy shirts and boots, with the obligatory faded denim jeans. And never went anywhere without his
Bullhide
cowboy hat.

My bass player was Gonzo - or as we liked to call him, Gonzo the Great, because of his huge nose and bug eyes like the puppet from
The Muppet Show
we used to watch as kids. He was a pretty laid back cookie, but then most bass players are. He loved Country and dressed the part, but with a shock of curly ginger hair, to go with the Gonzo features, he was the most intriguing looking guy you'd ever see. A laugh a minute though, I often thought he must have had to dazzle people with his wit when in school, to avoid getting the crap beaten out of him.

We could have done with a keyboard player, but time wasn't on our side to find a decent addition to the band. I was bound to be back home in Nashville within one more month, and our style of Country could manage without one at a stretch.

Then me, lead singer and acoustic guitar. I always sing with my Martin. I've never been the sort of performer to cower behind a mike stand and sway, I've gotta be part of the action. If you can't immerse yourself in the music, then what's the point? Country is my escape, playing the guitar and singing my haven from the crap that's in the world. When I was growing up it was all the love I had. My mum might have fed me and clothed me when she remembered, or I was running around in rags. But my Dad didn't give a crap. I saw him on the street, Christmas and his birthday - not mine - yet when he got sick and Gabe, my brother, was unable to to help, I came back.

He'd always been closer to Gabe, that didn't bother me really. I didn't want to come between the only good thing in Gabe's life and him, but I would have liked a little of the spill-over love, had there been some. But there just wasn't.

Yet here I am, thousands of miles away from my new life, caring for a man who barely acknowledged me growing up. But you know what, he's my Dad. And even if he couldn't get our relationship right, I'm not turning my back on him. I have no other Dad. He's it and when he goes there'll be no second chances.

Bloody maudlin, I needed to lose myself in a song.

"How about we just go straight to
Thunder
," I suggested to the guys. I hadn't forgotten that Gen wanted her fiancé to hear the song, but we'd be practising again a few times before the big night and I was sure he'd get his chance for a preview. But me, I needed that song right now.

Thinking of my relationship with my Dad did that to me.

The guys nodded their agreement, they always let me call the shots. That's why I loved playing with them, even if we'd only been together again - or in Spike's case, only just met - two months now, we'd been practising hard. Thank God Aunty Jessie loved Dad on the weekends, but even during the week nights I'd sneak out when he fell asleep. I'd been doing it to my Mum since I was twelve. Old habits die hard.

As soon as the first note played I was lost to the moment, I barely noted that more people had arrived, quietly stealing in through the curved glass doors, taking seats in the comfy couches about the place. The lighting was surprisingly good and the acoustics naturally appropriate for live music. The band fell into it, I fell into it and by the end of the song,
"Deep in her heart, the thunder rolls,"
our audience was into it. Entirely wrapped up in the genius that is Garth Brooks and Pat Alger.