Chapter Two

Jon stood in the middle of the his suite at Turtle Creek, impatient, and ready to go out. He was dressed casually, in skin-tight black jeans, a silk shirt the color of moonlight, and well-worn cowboy boots. Jon checked his watch, and stalked from the room. He pounded on the door across the hall.

“C’mon, man, step it up. I wanna get out of here,” Jon grouched.

“Shut up, asshole, I’m coming,” was the reply from behind the door. He and Richie had been friends for so long, neither one could really remember a time when they weren’t. They were as close as brothers, and bickered like they were.

Last night’s show was the last in this leg of the tour. It was a fantastic night; Jon felt it was the best show of the band’s summer tour so far. They had all sounded great, and the chemistry with the audience was perfect. The band had two weeks off, and then would head to Seattle for the final leg of the tour. Everyone was planning to head home for some R&R before heading back out on the road. Tico and Dave had already left, along with the crew.

Jon and Richie were in no hurry to get back to their respective empty homes. Dot and her new husband had taken the kids to Australia for the summer. Richie’s daughter was spending the summer in Milan, doing some modeling. Even after weeks on the road, with all the noise and crowds, neither was ready for the oppressive silence of an empty home.

Tonight, the pair were staring their own, unofficial tour of local joints – looking for an out-of-the way place to go unwind and have a few drinks, maybe where Richie can jam some with the local talent to relax.

The bar at the hotel was great, but there were always those fans that knew where the band liked to stay, and staked the place out. The throngs of people downstairs hadn’t thinned any, and the pair wasn’t in the mood for autographs and fake smiles.

The concierge told Jon about a place several blocks away that sounded like it had just what they was looking for. It was called Breathe, and on Tuesday nights, there was a half-way decent band of locals that did some good cover tunes. He had hinted that the two of them may want to be sure to check it out tonight. “You’ll sure get an education,” he said with a smirk.

Richie finally emerged from the depths of his room, decked out in blue denim and black leather. Two of them got into the service elevator, which took them to the kitchen. They were able to slip out the back, and into the rental without being seen. Jon slipped in behind the wheel, and took off; following the directions he was given.

Ten minutes later, as the Navigator rounded the final corner, Jon and Richie could hear the strains of a fiddle playing a familiar song, and he smiled to himself. Damn, he thought, I do love that song. In the middle of the block was a single window glowing with light. That must be the place. He slowed down, nearly stopping out front. He glanced up at the sign. It was the bar all right, and its full name was a line out of one of the band’s recent hits. The smile faded. Great. All he needed was to try to slip into a bar owned by a groupie unnoticed. He sighed, intending to keep on driving.

Then he saw her, and jammed the brakes.

Richie swore. “Hey, watch it, asshole,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, man,” came the distracted reply.

A woman wearing painted on blue jeans, a beaded vest, and battered cowboy hat was doing sweet justice to a Charlie Daniels classic. Her fingers flew across the fiddle as she bent and swayed to the music. She looked like she was having fun performing for the crowd. Jon could relate.

“Hey, dickhead, are we going inside or not?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jon replied.

“Shit, man I might even jam with them. They sound pretty good,” Richie said, squinting through the window into the bar.

“The guy at the hotel did say they were OK,” Jon said.

Richie took a closer look at the woman playing the fiddle, and whistled. “Hell, I may even make a run at that delectable creature playing the fiddle. I’d love to see what magic those fingers could work on my …”

“Screw you; I saw her first,” Jon grumbled. They often entered into friendly competition for the attention of a beautiful woman.

They made their way to a parking spot in front of what looked like someone’s garage. They jumped out of the car, Richie grabbing his ever-present guitar case, and made for the door.