“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.

Camryn

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.

Andrew

28

We’re on the road again, somewhere on a highway between Gulfport, Mississippi, and New Orleans. The day is perfect, with clear blue skies and just the right amount of heat so that we can still ride with the windows down and not feel the need to turn on the AC in the car. Camryn is driving and I’m kicked back on the passenger’s side, a lot like she usually is, with one foot hanging out the window.

We stayed in Mobile for a week and paid for our hotel room, all of our food, and the gas in the car with just a fraction of the cash we scored performing and Camryn’s tips from waitressing. My busboy tips were just a drop in the bucket compared to hers.

My cell phone buzzes around in the pocket of my black cargo shorts, and I answer it. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

She tells me how much she misses me and goes right into questions about my check-ups.

“No, I’ve been getting checked out,” I say. “Yeah, I got a scan not long ago at a hospital in—No, they just called in to Dr. Marsters for my info and—Yes, Mom. I know. I’m being careful.” I glance over at Camryn, who is smiling back at me. “Camryn won’t let me get away with not going. Yeah. Well, right now we’re on our way to New Orleans. I don’t know how long we’re staying there, but after we leave we’ll swing by home for a visit, all right?”

After I hang up with her, Camryn asks, “Texas?”

Instantly, I get the feeling she’s having the same thoughts she did during our first road trip, but she proves me wrong when she says, “Not that I have any problem with it. Just curious about the destination.” She smiles, and I can tell right away that she’s not hiding anything.

“Texas doesn’t worry you?” I ask.

She looks back at the road as we go around a curve, then she glances over at me again. “Not at all. Not like it used to.”

“What changed your mind?” I pull my foot from the window and turn to better face her, intrigued by her change of heart.