04.

*Note: New Post. Had it out of order. Sorry for the confusion.

The following night, both Jon and Richie were back at Benny’s. They’d found it was a good place to head after a long day’s work; quiet and dark, it provided a perfect opportunity for the two of them to kick back and relax while enjoying some live entertainment. There were other bars and clubs around town, obviously, but most stayed crowded and erred on the raunchy side of life.

Natalie had seen them come in, and she smiled as though they were just another pair of guys coming in for the night. In truth, she’d have liked to crawl under a rock and die at the sight of Jon Bon Jovi. At least Richie hadn’t heard her murder This Ain’t a Love Song.

Whoever was on stage was very obviously a local favorite, as a couple of girls had lined up in front of him and were dancing around happily. He was singing something twangy and loud, but everyone seemed to enjoy it. The bar was a little more crowded tonight, with only a few available seats, and Jon and Richie quickly realized why. The girls down front were all holding cds and markers, and though neither Jon nor Richie recognized him, they were smart enough to figure out that he was a somebody. Obviously not a big shot, but definitely a somebody.

Jon whistled at Natalie from behind the counter to get her attention, and Natalie came forward to take his order. She recognized him at once this time behind the glasses, the hat, and the scruff, having been tipped off by last time; Jon knew she recognized him as well. She let her gaze linger on him a little too long for it to be casual, but she didn’t make a big deal out of anything.

“Who’s that on stage?” he asked with interest, looking back at him. The man had dark hair that curled at the ends, and a boyish face. Natalie looked over at him with a big smile.
“That’s Jimmy Wayne,” she answered quickly, “He’s from around my hometown. He’s gonna make something of himself.”
“So he’s real?””Well, you see him don’t you?” she asked, momentarily forgetting who she was talking to as she watched Jimmy on stage. “He ain’t big yet. He’s had a couple of singles out on the radio about a year or two ago. They did okay, but he hasn’t had his big break yet, I guess. He’s got a voice on him, though…” she sighed out. Jon laughed at her, remembering the days when girls that young used to swoon and sigh over him and the boys. Hell, who was he kidding, they still did…but the band, for the most part, tended to leave those younger ones alone.
“Calm it down, June,” he teased, taking the drinks from her and paying.
“Hey now, you watch it, bud,” she teased back, stowing the money in the register. Jon flashed a smile that was bright enough that Natalie could see it good and clear even without the lights. He returned to the table with Richie and settled back in to watch the kid on stage – Jimmy Wayne, he thought she’d said.

“Apparently he’s got a cd,” he announced lazily, watching as Jimmy swaggered around for the ladies.
“Well what in the hell’s he playing here for?” Richie asked. Jon settled back into his seat with a shrug and stretched his limbs.
“Hell if I know. Maybe he likes it.”
“Can you imagine us playing in a place like this again?” Richie laughed, shaking his head.
“I’d love to, man. Not have to worry about nothing but playing and singing. Just doesn’t happen anymore.”

As he said it, both Jon and Richie looked at each other. The same idea had passed through their minds, but Jon shook his head.

“Nah, man, we can’t.””Why not? Nobody recognizes us. It might be good to test out some of the new songs. You know, see how people receive them.”
“Nobody recognizes us sitting in a dark corner in hats and shades,” Jon corrected.
“So what if they do recognize us?” Richie asked, shrugging, “these people don’t give a damn. We’re no Garth Brooks.”

He had a point, and Jon knew it. Already they’d been around town with relative ease. They’d only been stopped a few times here and there, mostly asked for an autograph and asked how they liked Nashville before the person left.

“Not tonight. Let the kid have his night,” Jon resigned. Richie nodded, not too cocky to admit that he and Jon would blow the boy out of the park.
“Think she’ll sing again?” Richie asked, instead.
“Who?” Sometimes Jon’s mind didn’t move as quickly as Richie’s mouth. Rich blew from subject to subject, hardly giving Jon time enough to think about one before Richie was jabbering on about something else in his ear. ”Natalie. The girl behind the bar. You think she’ll sing?”
“Fuck no, not from what you said about her last night,” Jon laughed, recalling the story Richie had relayed to him. It was intimidating to perform someone else’s song in front of that someone else; Jon knew, he’d done it. He didn’t envy her, but he wasn’t one of those people to get hung up on that sort of thing. He couldn’t care less that she’d covered their song, good or bad.

Richie waved down one of the waitresses and asked for an order of onion rings, and asked that she deliver a message to Natalie. Scrawled on a napkin, the message simply read: Get up there, girl. The waitress passed it off to Natalie, who accepted it with confusion. She had to wander over to one of the lights by the bar to read it, and her eyes and attention immediately went to where Richie and Jon sat. Both were grinning devilishly, and Jon jerked his head to the stage as Jimmy Wayne stepped down to sign autographs for a couple of fans. Natalie shook her head no with force, and pretended to busy herself with straightening chairs. After fifteen or so minutes of this (and atrocious music stylings of the jukebox), Jon motioned her over.

“Why don’t you wanna sing for us, baby?” he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table as he looked up at her. Natalie had a feeling that he was good at this game – at getting what he wanted, especially when it was out of the ladies.
“Because I made an ass out of myself, that’s why,” she answered simply. She kept herself from looking at those blue eyes for too long; she’d always been a sucker for the baby blues on anyone…looking at them on his face was just asking for trouble.
“Nah, you did fine.””Not gonna happen.””Ah, c’mon—“”Nope.”
“Please?””No sir.”
“For us?” Richie offered, giving his best puppy eyes; Natalie smiled and turned her attention to him.
“You two are like a bunch of kids. Where’s my sugar on top and ice cream in the middle, huh?”
“That too, hell, we’ll even throw in a cherry for you, babe.” Richie was, perhaps, even harder to resist than Jon. There was something very laidback and inviting about Richie, and a girl could get used to that deep, soulful voice he was currently using against her.
“There’s no way in hell I’m singing in front of two living legends. Sorry,” she laughed, shaking her head and returning to her work. Jon shrugged and Richie watched her, neither enjoying the Shania Twain song currently blaring at them. Richie and Jon, being the boys that they were, picked up their drinks and moved to the bar to give Natalie a hard time.

It seemed, however, someone had beat them to it.

“What are you doing here?” came the low hiss of a whisper from her. Richie and Jon got refills from another girl, and Jon was squinting to read the wine list while Richie watched the exchange going on to the left.
“I came to see you. Come on. You know you missed me, and I know you missed me. Just admit it,” the man said, reaching across the bar for her arm. Natalie jerked away roughly and shot daggers at him, her face murderous.
“You’re drunk. Get the hell out,” she said lowly, and Richie saw the first signs of wavering in her face.
“Shit, I ain’t drunk, sweetheart. I’ll get out if you come with me. C’mon.”
”I’m working, Luke.”
”Yeah, them jeans,” he said both lamely and impishly, eliciting a roll of eyes from Natalie.
“Go home,” she instructed, exasperation clear in her voice. The man rose from his stool but leaned further over the bar. Richie noticed it that she was fidgeting around, but she didn’t take her eyes off his face for one second.
“All right, Nat. I’ll go home. But I’ll be back. You’ll give in eventually.”

Natalie didn’t say another word to him, but watched intently as he left. She threw her towel on the floor and stomped off toward the back when she heard the rumble of his truck outside, and Richie watched as one of the other girls hurried in after her.

“Rich? Hey, yo, Richie?”

Jon was snapping in Richie’s ear, and Richie turned toward his friend with surprise.

“Fuck, your hearing’s worse than mine,” Jon laughed, and Richie couldn’t protest. His hearing was going, but what could he say? “That song we were working on – the one that’d open with just Dave doing that honky-tonk thing before you and Teek came in? I just got an idea for it,” Jon said somewhat excitedly. Richie listened as his friend outlined what changes they should make in the arrangements and lyrics, and Richie had to admit he was impressed.
“What gave you that idea?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“That man down front. He can’t keep a beat to save his life, but he made a new beat after a while. Thought it’d sound cool.”

With that idea in their heads, both Jon and Richie were itching to try it out. They left the bar, but Richie couldn’t help but turn around and look at the door he’d seen Natalie disappear behind. She still wasn’t back out, but he shook it from his mind. He didn’t even know her, or the guy for that matter, but he got the distinct feeling that he was the reason she could sing the way she did.