A Little Bit Country by Brian D. Kennedy

Author:Brian D. Kennedy
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-02-14T00:00:00+00:00

21

Luke

I’ve always been comfortable with silence. In fact, I usually prefer it to meaningless chitchat or too much background noise. I don’t listen to podcasts, or play the radio when I drive. And I hate loud parties where you have to shout to be heard. That might make me sound like a grump. But there’s something to be said for shutting out distractions. For being in the moment.

Except this moment.

This moment sucks.

The audience has gone completely still. No one’s reaching for their drink or sneaking a peek at their phone. Even the clink of ice cubes over at the bar has stopped. We’re all just sitting here, waiting for Emmett to do something.

Did he forget his lyrics? Have a sudden brain aneurysm?

Each passing second stretches out painfully. Tonight’s super important for Emmett. I hate to watch him suffer like this. I feel like I should do something. Say something. But I can’t. From the way my pulse is racing, you’d think I was up on that stage.

Next to me, his aunt finally breaks the silence.

“You’ve got this, Em!”

Emmett snaps out of it. Without missing a beat, he leans into the microphone. “That’s my aunt, everyone.”

People laugh, and it’s like the audience has taken a collective sigh of relief. Emmett turns to look at me. We lock eyes, and I get the feeling he’s trying to tell me something. But I don’t know what.

“There’s actually this other song I’ve been working on,” he says, strumming his guitar again. “It’s a little more old-fashioned. Classic country, I guess you could say. But I think you might like it better.”

The chords he’s playing this time are different.

They’re softer. More tender.

“Anyhow . . . This is called ‘Empty Rooms.’”

As he plays the intro, it finally hits me: That’s what was written on the paper I found the locket in. I asked Emmett to set my nana’s lyrics to music, but I didn’t think he’d be performing it for people already. If he had warned me ahead of time, I’m not sure I would’ve come. Because what if the song’s not any good? What if people hear it and they decide my nana’s music was better off sitting in our basement?

Suddenly the room’s too hot. I can feel the damp sweat collecting under the collar of my new shirt. I look around to see if anyone else has recognized the title. But of course they haven’t. It’s never been recorded before.

Dear Postmaster General,

From Paris, Texas, to Paris, France,

Your postmen have a long ways to go

And when December rolls around

They even make a stop at the North Pole

Well, today I’m writing to let you know

You can cross me off your delivery route

My mailbox is empty; no one sends love letters

Since the day my baby ran out

The hairs on the back of my neck prick up. Everything else around me fades away. Is this song about Wyatt leaving my nana?

Empty rooms in an empty home

Empty nights spent waitin’ by the telephone

My baby promised we’d never be apart

But the only thing I live with now is a broken

And empty heart

Yeah, it has to be about that.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.