“To the future,” Four glasses clanked against each other, as Michelle proposed a toast. James sipped some whiskey and then looked left, down at the piano in the middle of “Brown Oak” bar.

“I’ll have to wear a helmet this time.” He remarked. “People will know who I am, the moment they see me holding that guitar.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, James,” Rick’s frustration laden voice responded to his friend. “I thought you were ‘ok’ with this. Would you prefer a corner? It’s a lot more private.”

“He’s not used to this.” Michelle tried to defend him. “It’s not easy for anyone, especially if he’s been living in solitude, like he has. Thanks again, James. It means a lot to me that you agreed to work with me again.”

“We had a lot of fun the first time, Michelle.” James spoke in a lazy tone. “It took a lot of time and effort, but it went well.”

“Well?” She gave a derisive snort. “Not just well. I mean, until a month ago, all kinds of creeps wanted me to sign their boxer shorts. Now, I sign real autographs. I’ve signed hundreds of them, since the concert. Your lyrics put me on the map, James.”

“Give yourself some credit,” he advised. “You wrote the music. Lyrics mean nothing if the music sucks.”

“… and vice versa,” Rick spoke his mind, putting his two cents in.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Michelle smiled. At that moment, James noticed Helen, strutting towards their table.

“Heyyyy!” she sang. “How are you? You never said you were playing here tonight. That’s awesome! Oh, my God!” she opened her eyes wide, turning her gaze to Michelle. “Michelle Adams? I totally loved your performance the other night. It was so wonderful.”

“Thanks a lot.” Michelle said with a grin.

“Can I have an autograph? No, wait. I’ve just had a t-shirt printed with your picture on. Could you please, please sign it? It’s in my truck.” Helen spoke in a squeaky, girlish voice.

“Okay.” Michelle chirped.

“That sweet-ass chick’s not too bright, is she?” Rick nudged James with his shoulder.

“Trust me,” James smirked. “She’s a lot smarter than she looks.”

“James, this place is packed,” Howard broke his silence. “Don’t you think you ought to get started?”

“Patience is a virtue,” James teased, raising his glass to his lips. “Besides, the Blondie’s kidnapped Michelle. Who’s going to do the singing?”

“I think tonight’s going to be fantastic.” Howard continued. “I like this bar. It’s large, wide… and the acoustics are pretty damn good.”

“The acoustics are a hell of a lot better in my backyard,” James attempted an emphatic tone.

“Yeah,” Rick said, a devilish smile on his face as he patted his friend on the shoulder. “Especially because there’s a 1500-foot cliff under it.”

“Precisely,” James agreed, watching as Michelle returned to their table. “The echoes make the whole experience even better.”

“How did it go?” Rick asked, as she hopped back on her stool.

“I signed four t-shirts,” Michelle bragged. “Helen is crazy about me.”

“Never say ‘no’ to a fan,” Howard advised. “They pay the bills; remember that.”

“Oh, I will.” Michelle assured. “Man, it’s been crazy these past few days.”

At that moment, every light in the bar went out.

“Oh, crap!” James whispered in despair, as the customers started to complain. “Power outage?”

“Nope,” Michelle said, flicking a lighter in front of her. “Come here.” She whispered, curling her finger.

“What is it?” James wondered, leaning forward.

“I’m not singing ‘Olivia’ tonight.” She went on.

“What?” He couldn’t keep his voice down. “Why?”

Michelle did not answer his question. Instead, she pointed down at the piano. Two candles had been placed on each side of it. Nothing in this world could have prepared him for what he saw next. It was still a little too dark, but, he recognized the person sitting at it, immediately, as the pale light reflected off her face. It was Olivia. Before he knew it, her soft, melodic voice filled the air. She was starting to sing the song named after her. James hopped off his stool, unable to believe his eyes or his ears. Smiling to himself, he took a deep breath. In an instant, he was filled with the desire to play and sing with her. He had no time to waste. Olivia had already sung half of the first verse. He rushed towards the guitar stand, grabbed his acoustic and strapped it around his neck. Every hair on his body was raised, as he leaned over his microphone. James closed his eyes, losing himself in the moment, as her beautiful, majestic voice resounded through the dark bar, flooding his heart with emotion. Passion exploded inside him, as he sang her name. This time, his deep, manly voice would be softer and raspier than ever before, as James gave the performance of a lifetime…

Was it a dream – Was it a lie

An illusion of a life so far away

A whisper of fate – A breathless sigh

Or a tiny spark in my lightless day

Frozen inside my love you found me

Broken heart in a world of pain

Shadow of the one I used to be

A shattered wolf, howling in the rain

Olivia, my heart’s on fire

Olivia calls out my name

Olivia, my burning desire

Olivia, my dying flame

Your eyes like a river they flowed

Love so strong in my aching soul

Blinded by greed this love you sold

Bound by lust – acting a role

Lying on the snow my heart is bleeding

Scent of betrayal lingers in the air

Pale moon through the trees is peeking

This lonely night is my cross to bear

Olivia, my heart’s on fire

Olivia calls out my name

Olivia, my burning desire

Olivia, my dying flame

With the echo of his last strum still lingering in the air, James opened his eyes, as Olivia pressed on the piano keys, one last time. The small audience burst into a long, loud round of applause that shook the bar to its core. Michelle and Helen cheered for them, with huge smiles on their faces, as the lights were lit. James looked down at Olivia. She had locked her gaze on his face. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, as her lips trembled. He pulled the guitar strap over his head and eased the instrument back into the stand, maintaining eye contact with her. James moved around his microphone and then the piano, as she slowly rose from her stool. Stopping in front of her, he wrapped his arms around her upper back and lifted her off her feet, as she let out a short, sweet gasp of surprise. Bringing her mouth up to his level, he pressed his lips against hers, as she circled her arms around his neck. Another, even louder round of applause filled their ears, as they got lost in a gentle, passionate kiss. James tasted her salty lips, holding her tight in his strong arms, as she caressed the back of his neck. He planted a short kiss on her cheek, sliding his right hand up her back, as she put her head on his shoulder.

“I love you.” Her sweet, feminine voice was broken, as she squeezed two tears out of her eyes, the woo hoos rocking the bar.

“I love you so much, baby...” He confessed, firming his grip on her back.

“I’m so sorry…” Olivia sniffled in his ear, smudging her tears against him.

“No more apologies,” James spoke in his baritone, gently easing her down on the floor. “Want to get out of here?”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence, when the crowd’s urgent request grabbed their attention.

“We want more! We want more!” They all cried. Olivia’s eyes glinted with amusement, whereas James did not seem to share her enthusiasm.

“I’d love that!” She yelled, smiling up at him. “But they’d hate you if we left. You belong to them. I can wait.”

Her simple conclusion put a smile on his face, as he gazed out into the audience. Still, James had a question.

“How did you get here?”

“I’ll explain to you later.” Her own smile widened. “Helen helped a lot. Go.”

James did not speak. He merely nodded to her, turned to his table and signaled to Michelle. Olivia and Helen hugged each other, as Michelle took her seat at the piano.

“Good evening everybody. Boy, it’s great to see a couple reunited, isn’t it?” She spoke through her microphone, as James positioned himself behind his.

“Yeah!” the audience said, in one voice.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” she laughed. “Anyway, tonight is dedicated to the man who turned my world around. I don’t know what I would do without him. You know him; he’s the hunky stud with that guitar around his neck: your very own, James Farrell.”

A smile of embarrassment spread across his face, as the crowd applauded once more. But James was too blissful to play another emotional ballad. Their roar of excitement had not subsided yet, when he started one of the most recognizable guitar introductions: Eric Clapton’s “Layla”. Most of the people in the audience rose from their seats, rhythmically clapping their hands, as his fingers danced all over the fret board. “Brown Oak” had become his playground; overflowing with joy, James was going to savor every minute of that night, with the woman of his dreams cheering for him.

In spite of Peterson’s suggestion, both he and Michelle seemed to enjoy this too much to even consider stopping. The ten songs turned into fifteen, and the fifteen turned into twenty. Finally, more than two hours later, the two musicians held hands and bowed before the crowd, with huge grins on their faces and waving at the people.

“Olivia’s back and I’ve just had the best time of my life. God, I feel born again…”