“Calm down. I’m not at the stage when I can tell the studio what I want. But I’d love that song to be on the album. And if possible, you as well.”

I blessed that night back in Oxford when Sam had strong-armed me into singing as a warm-up for The Libs. It might have been one of those moments you looked back on later in life and say in a wise, old, croaking voice, ‘That’s when things started to happen. That’s when my life changed.’

“I’d love to sing Sweet Second with you tonight.” It was the best song I’d ever written, a bit too pop-rock, granted, but still my best one. I felt all antsy about going on stage to share it with the world. Anticipation crept from my stomach to my heart and all the way on up into my head. It got all fuzzy up there.

In the back of the bus, my cell beeped. And now I was antsier, but for different reasons.

“Go and check it. That husband of yours won’t survive long without hearing the husky sound of your voice.” Shawn put his hand over his heart as if in pain. I was already half-way down the corridor when he added, “Say ‘hey’ and ‘thanks’ from me.”

“Thanks? For what?”

“If he hadn’t screwed up in the past, I wouldn’t have one of my best songs today.”

I shuffled from side to side on my feet. Shawn had guessed Sweet Second was kind of auto-biographical. Duh, what else did I expect? The song was about two people getting married in high school, then losing each other, and finally getting back together.

“He didn’t screw up. I did.”

I reached my bed and crawled inside to hide. Curtain drawn, I checked my cell. My fingertips were tingling in anticipation. I needed to read his words.

Josh (7:34): Checking connections from Dulles to Phoenix. I HAVE to see you. Another day without you and I’ll be ready for the men in white coats.”

The gigantic smile that broke across my face must have been Joker-like. Second chances tasted real sweet. What was he going to say though about my next baby-step toward fame?

Except it wasn’t a baby-step anymore.

Josh

There’d been Cassie’s flight to D.C. last week that had been delayed by three hours. Today, my flight to Phoenix had been unceremoniously cancelled. No reason given. Just fucking cancelled. I’d managed to book myself onto another flight later in the day. I’d make it, but only for her gig. I’d wanted to take her for dinner or something, but it wasn’t going to happen now. She was the warm-up act so I might not even be there in time to see her.

Luckily they were staying overnight at a hotel in Phoenix. A Phoenix hotel wasn’t where I wanted our second ‘first time’ to take place, but at least I’d have a few hours alone with Cass in my arms. It wasn’t much, but I’d take anything I could get at this stage. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

I didn’t pay attention to life outside the cab I’d managed to highjack at the airport. By the time we’d made it to the concert venue I’d stopped checking my watch as well. There was no need to. If I struck it lucky, the gig wouldn’t be over yet.

I handed a note to the driver. “Man, wait for your change,” he shouted after me, but I was already half-way out the door.

“Keep it.” I rushed inside the building.

I’d sworn to her that I’d be there to watch her sing, as I’d only seen her perform twice before. The first time at a fair near Steep Hill light years ago. The second time was back in Oxford. Not my best memory, but it had nothing to do with Cassie’s singing, and everything to do with finding out that I was a father. To a five-year-old boy named Lucas.

I hadn’t felt chipper that night.

The pounding in my head increased with each step I took closer the entrance. To get backstage I’d have to squeeze through the crowd. Inside it was as hot as the Arizona Desert. The Libs were working the crowd real hard. Music wasn’t really my thing—football was—but even I couldn’t help feel the electricity wiring through the room. And it was all because of Shawn.

The guy was good. Real good. I’d reached the front row and, instead of going backstage, kept watching the show.

Shawn had charisma. I’m sure chicks called it sex-appeal. The guy was meant to be on stage, either to play music or to deliver speeches to crowds. If he didn’t make it in music, he could go straight into politics. That realization didn’t settle well with me. That rock-god had shared Cassie’s living quarters for the last month and there were another two weeks to go. Thinking about this could make me crazy. So I decided not to think about it.

I readjusted the shoulder strap of my overnight bag, then started marching towards the passage that led backstage. It was easy enough to identify: a massive guy—the bouncer type—stood in front of it, arms crossed, face passive. I was about to show him my pass when Shawn drawled my wife’s name into the mike.

I paid attention. Acute attention. Cassie sauntered casually across the stage, her guitar strapped across her shoulders. She wore what I’d seen her wearing about a thousand times. Cowboy boots, denim skirt, a white, tight T-shirt. Her hair was down in its usual wavy way. Nothing had changed about her.

And everything had changed.

Chicks would call it charisma. I’d definitely call it sex-appeal. My jaw dropped like a fucking cartoon character. I was falling for my girl all over again.

I listened to the few words she huskily muttered to the crowd, but I didn’t really hear them. It was too much to ask my other senses to start working when my sight was already in overdrive. Just the way she leaned gently over to whisper into the microphone pushed me over the edge. It was something about the angle of her body. From where I stood, I had to look up at her, at the shape of her legs illuminated by the lights from the back of the stage and at the shadows the lights created around the strands of her hair.

When she launched into the song, my hearing switched up several gears. I’d listened to enough of her songs to recognize how she articulated her thoughts, how she rhymed and how she played.

And it didn’t take long to determine this one was about us.

The second time around

It’s the same sweet sound

Just more of you, more of me

To finally be free

I didn’t like it that she was up there with Shawn, but Cassie seemed so happy, so in her element, I pushed that small disappointment aside. After the song ended, I finally made it backstage. It was officially my first time there and I was clearly outside my comfort zone.

There was a squeal. “Josh!”

I spun round and stumbled backward because Cassie had thrown herself on me. Along with her guitar that was now sticking up against my chest. I forgot about it when her mouth landed on mine.

When we broke the kiss, she wriggled away from me, removed her guitar and set it down against the wall. “Did you hear the song? The whole song?” She was out of breath. I’d never seen her on such a high.

“I got here just before you started it. I’m sorry I missed the first act. My flight was delayed and I had to wait ages for a cab, and—”

Cassie’s mouth was back on mine. I wasn’t used to this level of PDA from her. Not that I complained. She looped her arms around my neck. She had to go on tip-toes, so I grabbed her thighs and lifted her up and around my body. People were hurrying along us and I heard a few whistles. The Neanderthal in me banged his chest.

She nudged her face slightly backwards and I swear I saw stars sparkling in her eyes.

“You smell so good,” she whispered in my ear.

“Eau de Plane, I’m afraid.”

“Come on, I thought you’d buy yourself some fancy cologne in Paris.” The stars were still there in her eyes but, for a split second, they didn’t sparkle as brightly.

We’d have to talk about Lenor.