Grace Under Fire (Buchanan-Renard 14)

She didn’t have the faintest idea what she was supposed to do now. Her grand plans had been demolished. At least she had her degree in history, and it was a subject she truly enjoyed. She would never regret that. Maybe someday she’d be able to teach it and make others appreciate it as much as she did, even travel to some of the great historic sites she’d read about. It was time for her to make some decisions.

She might be heading in a different direction than she had planned, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t still make music a part of her life, did it? Even though she didn’t sing publicly, she still continued to write songs. She had notebooks filled with them. More were on her laptop taking up memory. Before she began saving them to the cloud, she had saved them on flash drives. She used whatever she could get her hands on when a lyric or melody came to her. One of these days she’d take the time to put them all together. Then what? Once the busy work was done and she had them all in one place, what would she do with them?

She was pulled from her thoughts about the future when Larry, the bouncer for the club, called out to her. He stood in front of the double doors. Only those he allowed got inside. The others stood behind a corded velvet rope. On Friday and Saturday nights the line went halfway around the block. Larry was a big man with an even bigger smile for those he liked, and Isabel was at the top of his list.

His eyes lit up when he saw her. “Hi, darlin’. Ready to have fun tonight?”

Damon slapped a folded twenty-dollar bill in his hand and responded, “Yes, darlin’. I’m ready.”

Grinning, Larry held the door open, and as Damon walked past, he whispered, “Smart-ass,” and then laughed.

The club was packed and so loud, people had to shout at one another to be heard.

Their friend Owen stood and waved, then gave a shrill whistle to let Isabel and Damon know where their group was seated. They’d scored a wide half-circle booth on the upper level. The dance floor was below them and the booth faced the stage. A popular DJ was running the show now, playing one song after another. The floor vibrated to the beat. The club routine was always the same. It would get quiet during the break at ten while the Trio set up, and then the racket would begin again. A happy racket, Isabel thought, because everyone would pour onto the floor.

There were three other couples in the booth, and after greeting everyone and trying not to laugh at JoAnn’s platinum blond hair—her freshman-year roommate changed the color of her hair at least once a month—Isabel sat on the end across from Damon and ordered a beer. Damon was the designated driver tonight. He’d already told her he had to get on the road early tomorrow and didn’t want to be hungover. Besides, it was her turn to have a few.

After a couple of hours of laughing and reminiscing about their years together, Isabel was beginning to feel light-headed. She should have stopped after two beers and switched to a nonalcoholic beverage, but she didn’t. The air conditioner wasn’t keeping up with the gyrating bodies on the dance floor, and the cold beer tasted wonderful. In between sips she pressed the icy bottle against her cheek.

The Trio had set up on the stage. So far, four brave souls—all men—had taken turns standing in front of the crowd and singing. None of them was any good. There was some halfhearted clapping after each was finished. Then Crowley demanded to take a turn. Everyone near the stage tried to stop him. He wasn’t the least bit talented, but he was certainly tenacious, and he all but clawed his way up the steps. Some of the regulars obviously recognized him and began to moan and groan quite loudly before he even began his routine. Others outright booed him. Their reaction didn’t faze him. He told one awful joke after another.

Isabel lost count of the number of beers she drank, and by the time Crowley was being pulled off the stage by management, vowing he was only taking a break, she was feeling no pain.

“Can you believe that guy graduated? He’s such a moron,” Owen commented.

“I can’t believe all of us have graduated,” Damon said.

A small voice in Isabel’s head whispered something to her beer-soaked brain. She had graduated. Graduated. There was so much meaning in that single word. For the last four years, she had kept her vow to her mother. No singing. No music. The promise had been fulfilled, and now she was free of the obligation. Had she done the right thing? Isabel didn’t know if she should be happy or sad.

She glanced at the smiling faces that surrounded her and decided to focus on the happy. She would deal with any sad thoughts another time. Tonight was a night to celebrate with her friends.

After several more people tried to win over the crowd, Lexi announced she was going to take a turn onstage. She slaughtered an old Taylor Swift song. Then Owen and the others started nagging Isabel to give it a try.

“All of us have humiliated ourselves on that stage, and this is our last night together,” Owen reminded.

“You should give it a go,” Damon insisted.

They waited for her to decline, just as she had every other time any of them had asked.

Isabel set her beer on the table. “Okay. I’ll take a turn.”

All of them looked stunned for a brief second. Then they laughed. They obviously didn’t believe her until she stood up, swayed a bit, got her balance, and headed to the stage.

“You’re bluffing,” Lexi shouted as Isabel zigzagged her way around the crowd.

She put her hand on the wall to steady herself as she climbed the four steps to the stage. Her heart was pounding, and she wasn’t at all sure she was going to have the courage to perform. Finally, reaching the center of the stage, she turned to the three musicians and asked to borrow a guitar, telling them she would like to sing a song she’d written. The guitar player handed his to her. After she’d played several chords, the Trio picked up the melody.

“We’ve got this,” they assured her. “You sing. We’ll catch up.”

Nodding, she handed the guitar back. Then she walked to the microphone, waited while the drummer adjusted it for her height, took a deep breath, wiped her hands down the sides of her dress, and began to sing. Her voice was soft and low. Few people could hear her due to the noisy crowd packed into the room, but that didn’t matter. She wanted to sing. She closed her eyes and let the music that had been inside her for the last four years soar. She sang one of her favorites, a bluesy tune with a sensual beat. It wasn’t a quiet love song couples could slow-dance to, but a powerful lusty song that made you want to move. With each chord her voice became stronger and more seductive. At the end of the second chorus she noticed the crowd was getting quiet. She opened her eyes. Most had stopped their chatter and were staring up at her. They looked spellbound. Some were beginning to sway to the music. By the time the song ended, a hush had fallen on the whole crowd, and all eyes were on her. For Isabel the silence seemed to last a full minute, and then the crowd suddenly erupted into cheers. The sound was deafening. Bewildered and feeling a bit dizzy, she couldn’t understand what was happening. She turned to the Trio and didn’t know what to think, for all three were standing and clapping and cheering. Her head spinning now, she slowly walked down to the dance floor, where the crowd swamped her, tugging and pulling to get her attention.

Damon met her in the middle of the dance floor and got her back to their friends by arm-blocking the way. By the time she scooted into the booth, her adrenaline was fading, her hands were shaking, and she was feeling limp.

Everyone seemed to be gawking at her as though she’d just grown another couple of heads. “What? What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter?” Owen asked with a good bit of incredulity. “Are you kidding? Did you know you could sing?”

“Of course she knew,” Lexi argued. “How could she not know?”