We met at Dixon Charleston
“You’re
tenacious,” she said, as we were seated.
“I’ll give you that.”
“Is tenacity a bad
thing?”
She dealt with her
cutlery and napkin while forming her answer, but when she raised her head, her
face answered me before her words did.
“No, not necessarily. I’ve missed
you.”
“I’ve missed you
too. Why didn’t you return my call?”
“Good afternoon. Welcome to Dixon’s. Can I start you off with some drinks?”
The interruption
couldn’t have come at a worse time, but come, it did. We ordered our food along with our drinks and
the waitress left us.
“How did you know
to look for me at Trader’s?” Caitlin asked.
“I met someone you
know. He told me.”
“Who was it?”
“Why?” I
asked. “Would you give him a hard time
on my account?”
“Depends on who it
is,” she said with a grin.
“Penn Singleton.”
“Penn that works at
the store?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, I’ll
definitely have to give him a hard time.”
My face rather
fell, but then she laughed and placed her hand on my arm.
“I’m only kidding! How did you meet Penn?”
“He also works for
Billy Farmer. I met him in the studio.”
Our beverages
arrived and were served.
“Why didn’t you
call me back?” I insisted.
Her smile faded,
but she looked me in the eyes.
“Nicholas, I could
fall for you in a skinny minute. From
the time I had my very first crush, I’ve always fallen for musicians. I’ve been really, truly, painfully in love
four times in my life. Three of those
times my heart was broken by musicians.
The last time was Jesse—not a
musician—we were happy for so long and then my heart was broken again by a
senseless accident.” She dabbed her eyes
with her napkin. “I just . . . I just
don’t think my heart can take another . . . breaking.”
My eyes softened,
I sighed and studied her face. I reached
for her hand just as our food was served.
Neither of us looked at it. Once
the server left, I got her hand again and she allowed me to take it.
“I don’t know what
to say. I’m not familiar enough with the
emotion of love to know what it feels like.
I’m certain I’ve broken my share of hearts through the years even though
I’ve always tried to be honest with the women I’ve, um, dated. And I’ve seen the train wrecks left behind by
other musicians, so I rather understand what you’re saying, albeit second or
third hand.
“What I want you
to know is that the time we spent together in Manhattan
She gave me that
wrinkled-nose smile that did me in, and I was able to return to her a smile of
my own.
“But when we were
together, a . . . sense of calm came
over me. A sense of . . . belonging,
perhaps? It felt right being with you.” I paused for a moment and looked at the food
in front of me before I continued. “Other
than onstage, I haven’t had a place to call home in a very long time. Decades.
With you, I felt at home. Does
that make any sense?”
Her eyes didn’t
waiver. “It does. And I felt it too, but I didn’t want to give
in to it because of, you know, my past experiences.”
“I get that. I do.
But when you left—the way you
left—I felt empty. I tried to hide it, I
tried to tell myself you were just another woman. That it didn’t matter if I never saw you
again—there are hundreds of them out there that didn’t matter.”
“More like
thousands,” she said with a grin.
I rolled my eyes
in acknowledgement. “Let’s just call it
a lot.
“But I was
miserable, Caitlin. Thank God my music
didn’t suffer—I can tell you my blues got better—but all my mates were on me
about it. So, finally I called. And when you didn’t phone back, I had my
answer, didn’t I?
“Then Billy called
and . . . here I am.”
She poked at the
salad she’d ordered with her fork, and studied the movement as she did so.
“It would take a
tremendous leap of faith for me, Nicholas.”
“For me, as
well. Don’t you see?”
“I’m just not sure
I have it in me. The risk is too great.”
“Is everything
okay?” The waitress had reappeared and
looked worried at our uneaten food.
“I’m sure
everything is fine,” I replied. “We’re
just catching up.”
Caitlin looked at
her phone for the time. “Yikes. I’ve gotta get back to work. Could you bring me a box to go?”
“You bet. For you, too?”
“Sure,” I said
with a smile and a shrug.
To Caitlin, I
said, “Will you let me walk you back to work?”
“I’d like that.”
* * *
We stopped just
short of going inside when we reached the grocery. Caitlin still had a few minutes.
“Thank you for
coming,” she said.
“It’s been my
pleasure, believe me.”
“Don’t break my
heart, Nicholas.”
“I don’t intend
to.”
“Well,” she
said. “I’ve gotta get back.”
I put my hands on
her shoulders. “Wait. I badly want to kiss you again. May I?”
“Not here,” she
said with a shake of her head. “But I
will take a hug.”
We held each other
just long enough and she whispered to me, “Call me when you get back to the
hotel. I swear I’ll answer the phone.”
With that, she
flashed me her smile and walked into the shop.
It seemed I was
always watching her walk away.
* * *
“Did you see her?”
Raymond asked as we pulled away from the hotel.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I s’pose it went
all right. I think I’m still processing
it. We talked. She let me buy her lunch and she wants me to
call her when I get back to the hotel.”
“That’s a start,”
he said.
“That it is,” I
said with a sigh. “Say, what do you know
about running that big bridge? I noticed
a lot of people on it when I walked down to Caitlin’s work.”
“I know my wife's
always trying to get me to go with her.”
“Have you?”
“Oh, hell no,” he
said with a laugh. “You should ask her.”
“So, what do you
think about this band Billy’s nurturing?”
“Not bad. They seem like nice kids. Polite.
Not like some of the arrogant
little shits that come through here.”
Raymond glanced back at me. “But
they can use a real guitar player and that’s no lie.”
“Are they local?”
“Yeah. Real local.
Mt. Pleasant
“Billy said they
work together well.”
“Yeah, which is
sometimes unusual in itself.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Raymond dropped me
off at the front door of the downtown studio.
A sign proclaimed, “Rock House:
Be Prepared.”
“Is that a warning
or a promise?” I asked with a laugh.
“Little of both,
my man,” Raymond answered.
Inside the front
door, faint strains of music reached us from the studio. Billy saw me coming.
“Nicholas! Welcome back.
Our boys are here today. It will
be interesting.”
Raymond came through
the side door from the car park.
Billy said to him,
“Your musical talents have been requested in rehearsal room one.”
“All right!”
Raymond said, turning to go up the stairs.
“Oh, and if you
don’t mind, would you leave Nicholas’ guitar with Dougie? Thanks.” Billy turned to me. “C’mon in my office.”
Billy’s temporary office
space was decorated with gold and platinum records and other awards he’d earned
through the years, as well as photos of himself with various recording
bigshots. On the wall behind his desk
he’d mounted an ancient Fender Stratocaster signed by Jimi Hendrix. It all struck me as a bit surreal,
considering the walls were unpainted plywood.
“The sign on the
front door is brilliant,” I said.
“You like it? I thought it was rather brilliant
myself. This was actually a bar and
music venue for years, until the owners put more profits up their
noses than back into the place. When the
studio and music hall at the compound are finished, I may give this place another
go as a nightspot. For now, we’re
producing some of rock’s rising stars and needed a place to do so. I know you’ve heard of Purple Strap, but
we’ve also got Charlotte Knew, Lightning Streak, and some others.”
“I toured with
Purple Strap last year,” I said.
“Yes, actually it
was after I heard your guitar work for them, that I invited them to join us
here. You’d already moved on to work
with Taylor by then. We’re encouraging
them toward an edgier sound with more guitar, more thoughtful lyrics and less screaming. They’re challenged, but rising to it.”
I smiled
remembering my time with them. “They’re
a good bunch of lads. I understand
Jonathon just became a father.”
“Yes, lord. And a doting one he is,” Billy said.
I wondered what
that would be like.
Billy stood
up. “Let’s see how Penn’s doing today.”
We watched the
young band in the studio from the window.
“They’re very good. Very young.
Extraordinarily good looking,” I said with a laugh. “I suddenly feel old as dirt.”
“I know that
feeling very well,” Billy agreed. “These
kids are quite promising. They’ve been
together . . . really, most of their lives, and like I told you yesterday, the
chemistry between them is unforced and natural.”
“Brilliant
harmonies, from what I can hear.”
“Let’s go in.”
Dougie Chappell
was at the sound board, wearing headphones, hands manipulating controls while watching
the computer monitor.
“Guys,” Dougie
spoke into the mic. “Special guest
visiting.”
The young men of
the band called Battery Park seemed excited to meet me. Billy introduced us all around, Penn puffing
up a bit like we’d been long-time mates.
“All right,” Billy
said, “let’s get to work. I’d like to
give Nicholas an idea of where you’re starting, so go back and play the same
song you were just practising. Play it
like your lives depend upon it.”
The opening riff
was catchy enough, but right away I could tell that even though they put their
all into it, the song was lacking a cohesive lead, just as Billy had said. Penn seemed to know the basics, but couldn’t
grasp the nuances. On the guitar at
least, he was an adequate technician more than a musician.
That said, the
rest of the band was quite talented and in fact, I could see—rather hear—that
Penn was a brilliant vocalist with an ear for harmonies. I kept my eye on the rhythm guitar player,
Damon. I saw him wince when Penn missed
something, and clearly, he heard in his head what Penn could not.
“You said they’ve
known each other a long time?” I asked Billy.
“Yes,” he
said. “Nearly all their lives. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking
Damon has a better ear for lead. D’you
think Penn would have a problem about switching roles?”
“I don’t think
so,” Billy said. “And now that you’ve
brought it up, I see what you mean.”
Billy and I
entered the inner studio as the song ended.
“Great song,
mates,” I told them. “Good lyrics, the bass line rocks. The harmonies are
brilliant.”
Penn blushed and
hung his head. “I know I’m holding them
back.”
“Not totally,” I
said. “Mate, your harmonies are more
intricate than anything out there.
They’re bloody genius. True,
you’ve got a long way to go with lead guitar, but what do you think about
trading lead for rhythm and making lead vocals your emphasis?”
Penn and Damon
looked at each other.
“I’ve never done
lead,” Damon said.
“That’s all right. I’ll give you direction. I know you can hear it. I saw you.
Let me show you what I mean.”
I picked up my Les
Paul and looked over the effects pedals in front of me. I smiled.
“Oh yeah, I can work with this.”
The drummer
counted off and the song began. From the
very first note, which I bent using the distortion pedal, I brought a whole new
level to an already decent song. I
heated up the main riff with the wah and string rakes, blistered the solo with trills, staccatos
and high-neck tapping. I made good use of
three out of the four effects pedals and ended it all with a feedback scream that set the whole song apart. Even Dougie was impressed.
Dougie played it
back and I approved. Me, being my own
worst critic.
It was decided
that I would play lead guitar on a couple of the songs while training Damon on
the basics. A glorified guitar teacher.
I laughed at the thought.
We finally stopped
working about nine-thirty, having taken a short break for dinner when Bryan
arrived to bring us sandwiches and fresh fruit.
By the time we met in Billy’s office for an after-party of sorts, all of
us felt exhausted, but sated. Billy
poured us drinks and we settled in to relax.
“Raymond told me
you got to see your lady today,” Billy said.
“How’d it go?”
“I think it went
all right. She didn’t send me away and
she let me buy her lunch. We talked
about some of our issues, but I think there are a lot more that need addressed.”
“On your part as
well as hers,” Billy said.
I arched my
eyebrow in acknowledgement.
“Wait a
minute. Wait a minute,” Dougie
said. “Nicholas Trent is serious about a
woman? Bloody hell?!”
“With any luck,
Dougie, it’ll happen to you one day.”
“Bollocks!” he
said. “You’ve been my role model. ‘How to Have the Time of Your Life While
Staying Single.’”
“It’s not all it’s
cracked up to be, you know,” Billy said
then turned to me. “Has she softened her
stance on you, then?”
“I know she enjoys
being with me. We enjoyed lunch
today. I’m hoping she’ll be able to . .
. I dunno. I know I’ve never felt so
happy and so miserable at the same time.”
“Thanks, but no
thanks, mate,” Dougie said. “I think
I’ll keep the happy and pass on the miserable.”
Billy
laughed. “Have you told her you love
her?”
“No-o-o. Not yet. I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I’m not sure she’s ready to hear it.”
“Why wouldn’t she
be?” Billy asked.
“She’s a widow—almost a year and a half.
But her husband’s spirit is always very close to the surface because his
brothers—well, two of the three—are giving her a hard time over his estate.”
“Shouldn’t that
have all been sorted out by now?”
“You would’ve
thought so, wouldn’t you? But it’s
holding her back from moving on with her life.”
“That’s too bad,”
Billy said. “And once it is all sorted,
how do you envision your future together?”
I leaned back in
my chair and sighed deeply. “I dunno. The only lives we’ve known are
totally incompatible. I’m never long in
one place and she never travels.”
* * *
It was nearly
eleven o’clock before I could ring Caitlin, but she answered straightaway.
“Is it too late to
call?”
“I was starting to
wonder, but I wouldn’t answer the phone this late for just anyone, you know.”
“Well, I thank you
for that. You can’t imagine how it makes
me feel just to hear your voice.”
“Aww . . . you’re
sweet. How was the studio today?”
“It was good. We made a couple of personnel shifts and I
think it’ll work out fine. How was
your day?”
“It was okay. Got bombarded this afternoon with
arrangements for a funeral and we have more to do before the service tomorrow,
but it’ll be okay. If it wasn’t work,
they’d call it fun, right?”
“Rather like my
job.”
“Yeah, no
fair. Can we have lunch again tomorrow?”
“Sorry, no. I’m going to the studio in the morning but if
it’s anything like today, I should be back in time for dinner.”
“Oh,” she
said. “I’m setting up plants for a
catering event tomorrow night.”
“Hmm. Well, what about Wednesday?”
“Okay, uh . . . I
sort of let it slip that you were in town and my brother-in-law invited us over
to his place for dinner that night. Is
that okay with you?”
“Sure, I s’pose. I hoped we’d have some time together so we
could talk some more. But that would be
all right.” I yawned.
“Great, ‘cause my
nephew, Colby—remember I told you about Colby when we were in New York
“Vaguely.”
“He’s the one that
plays guitar, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, of
course.”
“Well, he’s really
excited to meet you. He can’t believe
his Aunt Cait could know someone so cool.”
“Well, in that
case, I’m sure we should go. How old is
he again?”
“He’ll be
seventeen in November.”
“And he’s been
playing how long?”
“Seven or eight
years, I believe. I think he’s really
good and I think you will too.”
“Given your taste
in music and guitarists, I trust your judgment.”
“What’ll you do
tomorrow, then?” she asked.
“I think I’ll run
that big bridge when I get back from Billy’s.
It looks like a good run. Have
you ever done it?”
“I don’t have the
knees for running, and I haven’t yet walked it, but I’d like to. It looks like a challenging bike ride. If I ever got
back into biking, I might like to do that.
Be careful out there, okay?”
“It looked like
there were lots of people on it. A lot of crime up there?”
“Not that I know
of, still . . . I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
That made me
smile. “Thanks.” I yawned again. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I should let you go anyway. We both have early days tomorrow, don’t we?”
“Yes, but I hate
to let you go. Get some rest, all right?”
“I will. You too.”
“Oh, don’t worry
about that. Caitlin?”
“Yeah?”
I wanted
desperately to say, “love you,” but I kept it to myself.
“Goodnight.”
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