My eyes widen in alarm. “You didn’t? That one is going to go over great with Rene.”
Neil grimaces. “Shit, I didn’t think of that when I said he could crash on the couch.”
I do an internally contained groan. “Terrific, Neil. She’s finally not pissed at me 24/7 and you invite Josh Moss to stay on the couch.”
We’re both laughing as we near the table.
Josh frowns. “What’s the joke?”
“You are, man,” Neil says, giving his friend a quick, hard hug.
“Hey, Chrissie,” Josh says.
“Hi Josh. Heard you’re staying the night with us.”
Neil pinches me in a place Josh can’t see.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Josh says.
Neil pinches me again. “No trouble, man. It’s cool.”
I sink onto my chair and Neil calls out for a waitress. After ordering a round of drinks, it takes only a few minutes before I’m completely forgotten by Neil and he’s laser-focused in a discussion with Josh.
They start arguing across the table over About a Girl and whether Nirvana is a commercial sellout or not. Crap, not this again. Josh doesn’t want to bastardize their music by doing something commercial.
“It’s not a commercial sellout,” I say to Josh. “It’s a popular hit. That doesn’t make it a commercial sellout.”
Josh sits back in his chair, giving me the what the fuck do you know about anything look. “Stay out of this, Chrissie. When we get to talking about the cello and symphony, we’ll ask for your opinion.”
For a guy determined not to be like the mainstream music industry, Josh is an elitist in his own way.
Neil leans across the table toward Josh. “Don’t fucking talk to her that way. She’s a brilliant musician.”
Josh backs off. “I’m just saying.”
Tempers are flaring too quickly tonight. God, what’s up with these guys? Road fatigue? Road disillusionment?
“It’s OK. I won’t say another word.”
Neil looks at me, shaking his head. “No, Chrissie. You say anything you want to say. Josh is a prick. Don’t let him shut you up.”
“I’m not. I just don’t want to be in the middle of a fight tonight.”
Josh laughs. “You think this is a fight? Christ, it’s a good thing you never go on the road with us.”
“No chance of that ever, Josh,” I say in a deliberate, heavily exaggerated way.
Neil stares at me and my cheeks flush. Crap, why did that one piss him off?
Before their quickly escalating argument can turn into what I fear is about to become a quickly escalating argument between Neil and me, the band breaks. In a matter of minutes, they’re making their way toward Neil and the guys sink down at our table, flooding it with beer bottles.
I’m given only a brief introduction as “Chrissie” before the laughter and talk swirls. In the fast moving conversation, I catch that the band is from Seattle and they’ve been crossing paths with Arctic Hole in cities for nearly six months on the West Coast independent tour venues.
Their lead singer stands up, clutching his beer bottle and pointing at Neil. “You’ve got to sing one song with us, man.”
Neil shakes his head. “No, I’m with my girlfriend.”
The guy looks at me and I shrug. Why do I always end up an issue when I’m out in guy world?
The singer points at Neil. “She said it was OK, man. Don’t hide behind your girlfriend.”
Neil laughs. “Do you mind, Chrissie?”
“Why should I mind? I haven’t heard you perform in a while. Go sing something for me.”
Neil stands. He winks at me. “One song, but only if I can do something commercial sellout-worthy,” he says, staring at Josh.
Everyone laughs, I choke on my drink, but Josh glares.
I watch Neil go on stage with the band. He takes a guitar and launches into a conversation with the guys. Good, he’s going to play tonight.
Neil goes to the microphone, adjusts the stand and says quietly. “This is for my girlfriend, Chrissie. None of you fuckers boo.”
I watch more attentively after that and then he starts to play. It takes me a minute to recognize the song. It’s Elton John. It’s Tiny Dancer, and it’s fucking brilliant. The arrangement, down to the lyric changes, makes it completely relevant and current. The music is just edgy enough, with Neil’s rasp and touch of dark wistfulness. A haunting song now, instead of a sweet one. It brings to my mind shades of what Judas Priest did with Joan Baez’s Diamonds and Rust.
Only this is better. It’s pure Neil. And Neil is definitely doing this song for me… Blue jean baby. SB Lady. Lover of this man…. I listen with over claimed senses, my emotions running sweetly through my veins since it’s such a non-Neil-like thing to do to sing a song for me.
Then I look at the room. The way the girls are staring at Neil. He may be doing this as a goof because Josh pissed him off, but crap, he should record this cover.
The music finishes and Neil unplugs and is off stage, seeming oblivious that his joke was a performance he knocked out of the park.
He sinks down in his chair. He points at Josh. “That was for you, fucker.”
Josh gives him the finger.
He turns to me, a smile in his eyes. “Or was that for you?” He kisses me. “Did you like your song?”
When he pulls back, I stare up at him wide eyed. “Neil, that’s a hit. You should record it. Put it on the new album.”
“Are you fucking crazy, Chrissie?” Josh exclaims.
Neil frowns, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not recording Tiny Dancer. That’s your song.”
“When did it become my song?”
He kisses me again.
“About five minutes ago.”
“Then record it for me, Neil.”
Neil studies me, shaking his head like he can’t believe I mean it.
“You ready to hit it?” he asks Josh.
Josh and I argue about whether the band should record Tiny Dancer all the way back to the condo. Neil ignores us both. We enter the condo and he pops a CD in the player, grabs a blanket from the cabinet, and tosses it on the couch.
“We’re out of here, Josh.” He takes my hand and leads me to my bedroom. “Come on, Chrissie.”
Neil is on me the minute the door closes. I try to talk to him, but he’s unrelenting in kissing, undressing, and moving me toward the bed.
Later, quiet and spent, we lie holding each other.
He kisses my nose. “I’m going to miss you, Chrissie.”
“I’m going to miss you, too, Neil.”
“Did you like your song?”
“No. I loved it. You should listen to me. Record it.”
Neil laughs.
“I’d need to get the rights to do a cover, and the band would think it’s fucked.”
I kiss his sex-damp chest. “I don’t care. Do it for me.”
I tuck myself into Neil’s body and tonight we feel wonderful together.
~~~
I walk the guys downstairs to the van early in the morning.
Josh climbs into the passenger seat as Neil opens the cargo bay, tosses his bag in, and then slams the door.
He folds me in his arms against his chest. “I wish I didn’t I have to leave.”
“I wish you could stay longer, too.”
“I’ll be back before summer,” he whispers, trailing light kisses across my face.
I give him a long kiss and go with him as he climbs into the driver’s seat. I smile up at him through the open window.
“See ya, Chrissie. I’ll call you tonight when we reach Portland.”
“See ya, Neil.”
I step back, and the old van makes a loud sound as the engine turns over, and then Neil drives away. I stare at the road long after he’s out of view. I feel really quiet inside as I stare at the empty road; none of that internally messy feeling. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that I am with Neil.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN