Gavin's Song (Road to Salvation A Last Rider's Trilogy 1)

Ginny tried to tug her hand away from her roommate, but Gianna wouldn’t let her go, and with so many people watching, Ginny didn’t know how to get out of the situation she found herself in. She finally decided to bolt off the other side of the stage, nearly knocking herself to the floor when a cord tripped her. Gianna holding her hand prevented her from falling.

“Gianna, she doesn’t want to.” Zoey managed to break Gianna’s grip on her as she turned to thank the DJ who handed her the microphone.

Ginny found herself in her worst nightmare. The microphone almost hit her on the mouth because her hand was shaking so badly. The rowdy crowd started yelling at her to sing. Her roommate started to book it, giving her an apologetic look as she stepped off the stage.

When they got back to their apartment, Ginny promised she would strangle her. She would do it sooner, but Ginny was pretty sure that, as drunk as the women at the table were getting, she would be on the back of a motorcycle, cruising alongside them on other bikes.

Mentally, planes had never bothered her after the crash. Riding on motorcycles, on the other hand, was one thing she didn’t want to experience firsthand. Motorcycles and singing in front of crowds were her Achilles heel, and before the night was over, Ginny had a feeling that she wouldn’t escape doing both.

Ginny froze when the DJ started to play Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face,” the lyrics coming up on the screen to the side. Her mind went back to the last time she sang, when all the attention had been focused on her. Ginny couldn’t even open her mouth to let a single word out. She wasn’t even aware of Zoey asking the DJ to switch the music “Million Reasons,” by Lady Gaga.

When the music started playing, it drew her out of the trance she had locked herself into. Realizing the only way she was going to get off the stage was to give them what they wanted, she started singing. Doing what she did when she sang in church, she sang low so she was barely heard.

Flashbacks of the day that had irrevocably changed her life streamed through her mind like a flip book. The book stopping in the middle when Zoey took her hand in hers to sing with her. At Zoey’s encouraging smile, Ginny relaxed, her voice gradually growing louder, just wanting to finish the song and get off the stage.

Her eyes swept through the crowd, terrified someone would recognize her voice from when she sang as a child. It was an unreasonable fear, magnified by the traumatic events of the day that had scared the child within her, leaving a lasting mark on the adult who had her wanting to run in terror, just as she had that day when she was three years old.

Scanning the crowd, Ginny didn’t notice that Zoey had stopped singing, nor did she notice the crowd had gone quiet as she sang until the final note trailed off.

She was snapped back to reality when the entire audience clapped enthusiastically.

“Play another one!” Penni yelled out.

There were people whom she promised she was going to get even with when the audience started yelling again, stomping their feet. Ginny wanted to fade back into obscurity, and she wasn’t going to accomplish that goal if she had to spend the rest of the night fielding people in the audience wanting her to sing more. It would be smarter to give them what they wanted, then they would move on to someone else.

Nodding her head at Zoey’s questioning look, she wanted to die of embarrassment when she turned to the DJ, requesting another song. Had Gianna told all the women that she played that song every time she cleaned? Swearing to herself to tape her mouth shut when she turned on a vacuum from now on, she let Zoey start singing “Girl on Fire” by Alicia Keys before she jumped in.

Zoey stopped singing when Ginny’s voice radiated her joy, and she let the song take her over. She didn’t worry about the one in a zillion chance that she would be recognized or the consequences. The song filled her soul the way it always had since she was a child. The beauty within the words wound through her, so she could paint a picture with her voice and share with whoever wanted to listen.

Trudy told her once that her voice was a gift, and she said that the gift was something she should share. She could use her voice to sing to a child who was sick to make them feel better, or share it with someone who felt that no one understood them and show them she did. She could give her love and care to those who felt lost and alone for the few minutes that the song lasted, holding them in her arms so that at least one person knew someone cared. It was a gift that she had been forced to hide, like a Christmas present that couldn’t be opened, gathering dust in the back of a closet. Surely, it would be okay to open a tiny flap and give the once-innocent child she had been the pleasure of sharing her heartfelt gift again.