Page 13 of Knox
Although, in truth, Dixie wasn’t her real name. But no country singer was named Donna, and Dixie had changed her moniker back in the days when they had a standing Saturday night gig at Rusty’s Roadhouse in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin.
Now, eight years later, Kelsey couldn’t think of her as anyone but Dixie.
“Clearly, we all want this badly.” This from Glo, who was sitting on a nearby sofa, plucking on her banjo, working on the chords of a song she was writing. She wore a strapless, one-piece body suit of leather, with red flowers painted up her shoulder and around her décolletage. Also blonde—although her hair was nearly white—and at five foot two, Glo was the shortest of the girl trio, but she had a soprano voice that could lift the rafters. With hazel-green eyes and curves, she was the sassy one, knew how to flirt with the crowd, and had managed to shuck off her highbrow Southern belle upbringing and embrace the country singer lifestyle. If it weren’t for her living her high school years with her father in the small college town on the border of Minnesota and Wisconsin, the three would have never met.
Gloria Jackson was the harmonizer, the banjo, dobro, and guitar hero of their trio, the brassy one who made most of their decisions, thanks to her legal background. And frankly, downright unflappable, probably from all her years of training to be in the political limelight.
First Daughter.
Her mother’s goal, not Glo’s. If it was up to her mother, senator for the great state of Tennessee, she would come to her senses and start doing something respectable.
A knock at the door, then Carter stuck his head in. In his mid-fifties with graying dark hair, Carter had always reminded Kelsey of George Clooney with his cocky smile that could charm every radio station across the country.
The one time God had shown up, been on her side was the night Carter walked into the Double Buck in Nowheresville, Wisconsin, sat down at a table, and listened to their entire set. She always thought that maybe Dixie’s dad might be to blame. God usually showed up when Uncle Dennis asked.
“Five minutes,” Carter said, then smiled. “Knock ’em dead.” He winked and shut the door, and for the first time, Kelsey felt her stomach clench.
Breathe.
But this wasn’t the panic that had threaded through her and taken possession last night.
No, onstage, she owned the world. The crowd, cheering, singing along. She roused them to heights, brought them low with ballads, made them feel the soul woven into the music written by Glo and Dixie.
She was the entertainer of the group. The performer.
The lead singer.
And probably, the one person who should rightly be in hiding.
But she became a different person onstage, and it was this person who got up, high-fived Dixie and Glo, and headed out to the wings of the stage.
The arena smelled of dirt, horseflesh, and sweat, but props had laid down a floor over the dirt, and the crowd stirred, waiting in the semidarkness.
She loved their show. How they came onstage in the pitch black, their enchanting a cappella voices lifting together in perfect harmony, then the sudden crescendo as their drummer, Elijah Blue, brought the song to life. How the lights sparked and as one they dove into the song, a full video screen behind them. In that moment, she was part of something bigger than herself. Swept up in the lyrics, the music, the fervor of the performance. She knew it, relished it, and hungered for it.
Inside the orchestration of their performance, she was safe.
Glo came up behind her. “So, do you think he’s out there?”
She glanced at her. “Who?”
“Tall, dark, and handsome,” she said. “The guy who walked you home last night. Dixie saw him with you.”
Kelsey’s eyes widened “When?”
“At the carnival.” Dixie winked. “I saw you on the Ferris wheel together. Who was he?”
The song piping through the arena was finishing its last notes.
“Just a cowboy. A rancher. A safe guy, but nobody.”
Glo shook her head. “Right.”
“What—”
But Dixie pushed her onstage, and they walked out in darkness as a hush fell over the crowd.
She knew exactly the number of steps, found the shiny mic stand in the middle, gripped her hand around it. Cool. Solid.Stay safe.