Fix It Up - Mary Calmes Page 0,29
to the guy who had just finished an acoustic version of “Layla.”
“Can I borrow that?”
“No, man, I—oh—holy shit,” Tanner gasped, and the small group of people all got out their phones at the same time. “Nick Madison?”
I had no idea why he said it like that, because most of the people at the party were famous. More were than were not. I had to wonder why he wanted to bring attention to Nick on purpose.
Nick gave them the smile that was splashed everywhere. He was huge, after all; he’d played Wembley Stadium on his twenty-first birthday, sold it out, and then did it again the second night. Sometimes I forgot that he wasn’t just Nick who needed help, but was a superstar too. He was a household name, whether you loved him or hated him. “How about I take pics with everybody after, but for now, can I just play?”
Lots of smiling and nodding, and some even put down their phones as he turned, walking back over to me, strumming the guitar. “Let me guess what’s in your mother’s collection.”
I shook my head.
He lifted his eyebrows playfully. “Loggins and Messina?”
“Of course,” I said, chuckling.
“James Taylor?”
“Naturally.”
“Well, let’s see,” he mused, strumming some more, thinking, as I heard chords I knew because my mother had been playing the same songs my whole life.
“Play something of yours,” I said, and everyone clapped.
He made a noise like he was thinking and then shook his head. “For Mom,” he said before he started the opening chords of “Something in the Way She Moves.” I’d somehow forgotten that the original James Taylor version had always been my favorite.
God, it was beautiful. There was an ache in his voice and a softness and a depth that I felt inside, holding my heart. When he did “Carolina in My Mind,” I got a lump in my throat and had to glance away from him.
When he was done there was whooping and cheering, and he bumped the bottom of my harness boot with his sneaker to get my attention. Looking up, I glared at him, and the smile I got in return was wild and beautiful, completely out of control.
He sang “Watching the River Run,” and when people joined in, he encouraged that, until he had more and more people clustered around. When the host of the party, Stig Malloy, came down with his own guitar, and another for Nick so he could return Tanner’s, all three men played together, though only, Nick mandated, hits from the seventies.
People took video then, and it was obvious to anyone that Tanner Ward was nobody, was probably a friend of a friend who had used the invitation to the party as an impromptu audition. It was likely why he was playing, hoping that Stig, who fronted the band Random Horde and produced bands on his label, Salvage Records, would see him. Poor guy, he had been thrilled to see Nick, but he could barely keep up with them. Stig didn’t spare him a glance, completely engrossed in playing with Nick, having, it was clear from the smile on his face, the best time. The two of them together were amazing, taking turns singing before a couple more of Stig’s friends, one with a banjo and another with a ukulele, joined in. When all four men harmonized on “Helplessly Hoping,” I was glad people were recording, because that cover deserved to go viral.
They sang a few more, and then someone shouted out “Landslide,” and everyone, the whole crowd, joined in loudly, and when that was done and there was wave after wave of clapping, both Nick and Stig cradled their guitars. Having entertained the crowd for more than an hour, it was time for a break, and people immediately rushed to Nick and Stig, but it was friendly. As I approached, I heard Stig telling Nick that a live session with friends would be a great idea. He had some dates coming up, once Random Horde started touring again, and he’d love Nick to meet them in any city he’d like.
“You’re not worried I won’t be reliable since I’ve been working on getting clean?”
Stig shook his head and scoffed, letting Nick know that it wasn’t an issue. “You look great, best you have in a long time, and if you’re interested in working outside your normal box, we could do a lot together.”
“Are you kidding?”
Stig chuckled. “Where you been hiding the encyclopedic knowledge of all things near and dear to my heart, man?