Everyone at the table was so curious about my mysterious new relationship with Wes that they asked me question after question about it. Katie and Chasidy both wanted details about Wes, but my brother was mostly curious about my impending trip to Memphis.
Katie and Chasidy gathered from our conversation that Wes was part of the same Bishop family that made the motorcycles, but they had no idea the extent of their success in America or about the ties the family had to Courtney Cole. Luke was extremely excited and curious, but he and I both had the presence of mind not to share too much in front of everyone else.
Wes's band started playing about ten minutes after I got to the table. I was so amped from the kiss that I had almost forgotten how very much I loved watching him perform. I could not be prouder of him. He owned that stage. He wore ripped jeans and a simple white t-shirt, and he looked like a million bucks. His electric guitar hung near his hips, and during the times when he took a break from playing, he would hold onto the microphone as he sang into it.
I loved it when he did that.
Other girls loved it, too.
I was a hundred percent aware of the fact that he had adoring female fans. I could see them staring at him longingly from the section near the stage. It was something I had gotten used to in the weeks since we had known each other. In all honesty, the time that Wes and I had spent in the friend zone had served me well.
Don't get me wrong, I would have quit it any second and moved onto the more-than-friend zone if he would have been interested, but looking back, it was a beneficial experience for me. I got to know him as a friend first. I got to understand how trustworthy and loyal he was. I got to experience a different side of him and realize that I thoroughly trusted him.
I knew he meant it earlier when he said he loved me—I could feel it from his heart to mine. So now, I didn't feel threatened by all of those girls who were gathered around the stage. On the contrary, I felt proud of him. Proud that he was compelling enough as a musician to cause them to scream and yell after every song. Proud that he could manage to make them all feel special enough to swoon over him and line up for all of his shows.
The band played what must have been ten songs before Wes announced that the final three numbers were songs they had never before performed live. Wes often practiced in front of me, and these were brand-new songs, even to me. I had been glued to my stool the entire show, but it would have taken an earthquake to cause me to get up during these final songs. They were written for me—not just for me, but also about me. My name was even repeated in the chorus of one of them, and when he sang that one, Katie squeezed my arm the entire time like she was a blood pressure monitor. I hardly noticed her because my eyes were fixed on my man. He knew where I was sitting, and he glanced at me often during these final songs.
The crowd erupted when they finished playing the last song. Wes thanked everyone for coming out, and then all four guys walked off the stage. For what must have been a full minute, the crowd cheered for an encore.
Wes finally came out, but this time he was by himself. Off to the side of the stage, there was an acoustic guitar, and Wes shrugged into it, adjusting the fit and position as the crowd (mostly the women in the crowd) went crazy.
"May I have that stool if nobody's using it?" he asked, squinting into the crowd and pointing at a spot near by the stage.
I saw the silhouette of a stool being thrust into the air the instant he asked for it, and Wes reached out with one hand to take it from the person. He sat it on the stage and took a seat on it, adjusting the microphone and then the guitar.
"I'm gonna do this last one by myself, if that's okay."
Screams of approval came from the audience, and he smiled as he began playing notes on the acoustic.
"It's called Say I’m Not Late." He mumbled the words into the mic as he continued playing notes, and I racked my brain, trying to think if I had ever heard that song or if it was another new one. I had seen him play his acoustic guitar before, but he never did it in front of an audience.
He played a beautiful sequence of notes.
They were slow and gripping.
I loved the song before he even began singing.
Don't have to say you love me,
Baby, I can see you do.
You were waitin, waitin', baby,
For me to love you too.
Gave me time and patience,
Gave me all your soul.
But I gave you nothin',
Cept my rock and roll.
Oh, baby please,
Say I'm not late.
I'm on my knees,
And you know it, don't ya?
Then I saw you that evening,
Yeah, I saw you with another man.
Yeah, baby, I was sufferin',
And I knew, I knew I really can't.
Gonna change for you, baby,
Gonna stop my wicked ways.
I'm gonna take you home to Memphis,
And that's where we're gonna stay.
Oh, baby please,
Please say I'm not late.
I'm on my knees,
And you know it, don't ya?
I just stared at the stage with tears welling in my eyes. I had tried to prevent them from forming, but the song was just so beautiful that I couldn't help myself. The lyrics alone were enough to make me cry, but what did it was Wes's passionate, soulful, musically-perfect delivery of them. His voice was rich and raw, and he painted a picture with it—a masterpiece. He loved me; he truly did. And, apparently, he was taking me home to Memphis.
He played the outro on the guitar and leaned into the mic to tell the audience 'thank you' one last time before walking off stage. The song was so beautiful that the audience gave him a standing ovation. Everyone around me was yelling and cheering and clapping, and I clapped numbly as I watched him exit the stage.
It wasn't until the crowd had already stopped clapping and gone back to their murmuring that I looked around our table and realized that everyone in my party was staring at me. Katie was crying right along with me, and Chasidy looked like she was about to.
"Oh, my goodness, that was for you, wasn't it?" Chasidy asked.
"Of course it was!" Katie said, wiping her cheeks. "Like five of those songs were. One of them even had her blimey name in it over and over again."
"Was that about you—that part about Memphis?" Luke asked. "Are you moving there?"
A song began pumping through the speakers. It was loud, so Luke had to yell the last part of his question. "Are you moving to Memphis?" he asked again just in case I hadn't heard.
"Nooo," I said by instinct, and then I thought better of it. "I mean, he hasn't mentioned that. He told me he wanted me to go on a trip with him, that's all."
We waited at the table while Wes and his band broke down and packed up their equipment. I could see him from a distance, talking to his bandmates and the venue manager, but I stayed back, knowing he would make his way over to me once he finished. The crowd thinned out a little, but the music was pumping, and the night was still relatively young as far as club-goers were concerned.
Wes caught my eye from across the room and gave me a hand gesture indicating that he wanted me to wait where I was before he disappeared, carrying equipment.
The music was highly conducive to dancing, so Chasidy and Katie talked my brother and Micah into joining them on the dance floor. Katie wasn't going to stand for me sitting at the table alone, so she drug me out there with them. I wasn't much of a dancer—especially without a partner, but joining them seemed like a better option than being stuck at the table by myself. I feared it might be awkward, but it wasn't. We all just danced in a big group, laughing at my brother and Micah who both had good moves, but acted like clowns for our entertainment.
I stopped moving when I saw Wes come back into the room with a few others. He was now wearing his black leather jacket over his t-shirt, looking like my very own James Dean. He instantly glanced at my table, and I watched his expression shift to one of concern when he noticed that another group had taken it over.
I watched his eyes begin to dart around the room, and I waved at him when he looked my way. I succeeded in catching his attention, and he shot me a relieved smile. The sight of it sent a shockwave of anticipation through me. I put my hands over my face and then opened them up again in an impromptu, almost accidental game of peekaboo that was a result of me feeling shy.
He smiled wryly and shook his head at me as he walked my way. We were at the edge of the dance floor and we had all sort of stopped dancing by the time Wes got there. Before I knew it, I was in his arms. He instantly leaned in and gave me a kiss on the neck and then he shifted so that he could greet everyone else who was standing around. He held me close to him as he reached out to shake hands with the others, starting with my brother.
"Thanks again for coming out," he said in a loud voice to speak over the music.
"It was amazing!" Katie said, leaning in to speak to him with a huge smile. "I told Jolene a few of those songs were about her."
"They were," Wes agreed easily. "I have more than that, too, but I couldn’t work them all up for the show tonight. My band wanted to kill me as it was."
I thought my brother might say something about Memphis, but he didn't—he just stood there, looking at us like he couldn't quite believe his eyes.
A couple of people from the crowd came up to us to congratulate Wes on the show and shake his hand. One girl even wanted to take a picture. Right when she walked away, Wes pulled me into his arms again.
"Well, y'all, I do appreciate you coming out and bringing my girl, but I'm ready to get out of here, and I promised the lady a ride."