Chapter 14

Annie's radiant smile warmed Richie's heart, softening the dread that still lurked there.  He was afraid of the heartache he knew would follow when he played the last note, when he put down Sammy's gold Gibson and stepped down from the stage.  But Annie would be there to ease the ache of his private disappointment when he walked away from his dream again.

It would be worth it.  This was the one thing Richie could give to Annie to thank her for her kindness, the only thing she'd asked of him.  He owed it to her.

But he wanted it for himself.

Richie took a deep breath as Annie again pressed her body to his, giving him a little hug as she nestled her cheek against his shoulder.  The perfume of her hair filled his senses, blocking out the musty odor of stale beer and cigarette smoke that hung in the air.  He closed his eyes, shuttering his view of the stage as he guided Annie again into a slow revolution.

When the closing notes of the song sounded Annie stepped back from Richie and smiled.  Capturing his hand in hers, she turned and waved excitedly at Sammy, catching the guitarist’s attention as he reached for his beer bottle.  


Sammy raised a brow and nodded at Richie, silently renewing his earlier invitation.  Richie gave a little nod back then stumbled forward as Annie practically dragged him toward the stage, pushing between the closely-packed bodies on the dance floor.

"Changed your mind, Man?"  Sammy grinned broadly when Richie was standing at the edge of the platform that was their rudimentary stage.

"Well...." Richie smiled sheepishly and looked at Annie. "She's pretty convincing."

"Cool.  Come on up."  As Richie stepped up onto the stage Sammy lifted the Gibson away from his body, pulling the strap over his head.  Holding the guitar by the neck, he offered it to Richie.

"Uh... thanks."  Richie hesitated before reaching for the instrument.  "Man, you sure?  I mean..."

"Richie, just take her already."  Sammy's remark was scolding but his tone was merry.  His cheeks crinkled with his wide smile.

Richie felt a tingle of excitement course down his arm and through his body the second his hand closed around the guitar's sleek neck.  Immediately he felt a flush of heat.  It was as if he was rediscovering a former lover, stealing an illicit rendezvous.  Richie winced at the almost sexual intensity of his reaction.

He wasn't supposed to be doing this.  He had made the decision to quit.  But already it felt too damned good.

Richie was unable to stop the smile that curved his lips.  He drew the strap over his head and settled the guitar against his pelvis, groaning softly at the contact.  Automatically his calloused fingertips slid along the frets while his other hand caressed the sleek curved wood at his hip.

"She's nice," he remarked huskily, looking up at Sammy.  "Real nice."

"Thanks." Sammy smirked.  "She's a lady, but you don't gotta be gentle.  She likes it hard."

Richie grinned at the innuendo, his eyes gleaming as they locked with Sammy's.  They exchanged a look, understanding each other perfectly.  Richie realized he and Sammy were two of a kind, bonded in the brotherhood of music.  


"I'll see if I can give her what she wants."  Richie chuckled throatily with his own sly remark.

Sammy nodded and turned to look at his band-mates, who were watching the exchange between their young guitar player and their apparent guest musician.  "Gentlemen, this is Richie.  He's from up North, here visitin' Annabelle.  He's gonna sit in on a few, if that's fine by y'all."

Sammy's introduction was met by a chorus of "uh huhs" and "oh yeahs" from the older men.  Sammy quickly named off the band members for Richie:  Ralph the piano player, Smokes the drummer, Elvin the trumpeter, and Big Moe on the bass violin.

The grizzled bass player's dark eyes twinkled as he grinned at Richie.  "Think you can keep up with us, Son?"

Richie nodded and drew a hand through his sweaty hair.  "I'm sure gonna try, Sir."

His polite response brought a chorus of snorts and guffaws from the men.  Richie smiled bewilderedly at their reaction, not understanding what was so funny about his reply.

"Son, thanks for the fancy manners, but tonight we just some Down and Dirty Dawgs, ya hear?  We just here to play some rock and soul, give these hard-workin’ people somethin' to dance to."  Big Moe paused, giving Richie a deliberate once-over.  "Now, you know some blues chords?"

"Yes Si... I mean, Yeah."  Richie quickly corrected himself as he nodded.

"Richie was playin' in Memphis for awhile."  Annie's voice betrayed her excitement as she spoke up on his behalf.  "He even played on some records."

Richie tried to ignore the little stab in his gut at her eager words.  He turned to look at Annie and found her beaming, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink and her blue eyes sparkling.  He really wished she'd stop telling everybody about his ill-fated visit to Memphis.  He knew she was excited and trying to help, but Jesus.  She just didn't understand.  He had nothing to brag about.

"That so?"  Ralph's gravely voice rumbled across the little stage.  "You play down on Beale Street, Boy?"

Richie nodded, humbly dropping his gaze to the floor as he smiled.  "Yeah.  Did some club gigs and stuff."

"Well Shee-it."  A grin split Ralph's heavy ebony face.  "Then you fo' damned sure can keep up with us folk.  How 'bouts a little Big Mama Thornton to get it started?”  He arched a bushy brow, waiting to see if the shaggy White Boy really knew the Blues.

Richie couldn’t stop his smirk as he recognized the piano player’s challenge.   He struck a chord on the Gibson, his heart flipping at the sweet tone.  “You got it.”

“Awl-raght then.”  Ralph nodded and turned to face his piano.  Crashing his fingers down on to the keys and throwing his head back, he belted out a hoarse wail.

YOU AIN’T NOTHIN’ but a Hound-Dog…

At precisely the right second Richie hit the first phrase of the song, pleasure surging through him as the Gibson’s body vibrated against his pelvis.  The rest of the band jumped in on cue, Smokes and Big Moe laying down the beat to the old Blues lament about a no-good man. 

Automatically Richie began tapping his foot and bobbing his head as he played, picking out the understated accompaniment to Ralph’s screaming vocals.  He grinned when Ralph turned to give him a wink, an unspoken “attaboy” to the Yankee who knew this song in its original arrangement, the way it sounded before it was made famous by Elvis Presley.  Richie nodded back at the Piano Man, acknowledging his praise.

He glanced to his left, to the side of the stage where Annie had moved as the crowd on the dance floor began to shimmy and sway.  He saw her watching him with rapt attention, her eyes and lips shining in the violet light cast from the stage.  The corner of Richie’s mouth twitched upward as his eyes met hers for a moment, then he turned back to the band.  He didn’t want to be distracted by her now, while he was proving himself to these seasoned musicians. 

At the end of the second verse Richie felt himself grin.  Adrenaline coursed through him as he closed his eyes and let his heart take over.  Effortlessly his fingers slid over the strings, picking out an expressive solo.  In a mere twelve measures he felt his soul take flight.

It felt damned good.

Ahhhh… you made me feel so blue….

You made me weep and moan

You made me feel so blue

You made me weep and moan

‘Cause I’m lookin’ for a woman

All you’re lookin’ for is a home….

You ain’t nothin’ but a Hound Dog

Snoopin’ round my door

You ain’t nothin’ but a Hound Dog

Snoopin’ round my door

You can wag your tail

But I ain’t gonna feed you no more.

Richie’s eyes opened and he turned to look at the musicians with whom he stared the little stage.  He flushed slightly when he saw them all grinning broadly at him as they played along, creating an extended outro to the song.  There was no doubt he had passed their test. 

With a flourish Richie hit a solid end note, then grinned as he bent it a little longer than necessary.  He relished the feel of the Gibson in his hands.  As the song died he craved more.

The crowd clapped and whooped as Ralph took a little bow.  He settled back on his bench and turned to shout over his shoulder at his young guitarist.  “How ‘bout some Fats!”  Then he pounded out a staccato phrase of piano chords, introducing the next song.


I found my thrill
On Blueberry Hill....

Richie tossed his head back as he laughed, immediately settling into the wandering swing melody to back up Ralph’s piano and vocals.  This song was an old friend; he had learned it on the piano years ago.  Richie felt a little twinge of homesickness as the vision of his parents dancing together in their living room flashed again in his mind.  Automatically his gaze turned to Annie.

This time Richie didn’t glance away.  As always before, the guitar in his hands somehow gave him confidence and cool.  He gave Annie a little wink, then boldly let his eyes slide over her body.   She was swaying gently back and forth, rocking her hips in time to the rollicking beat.  Richie felt himself respond to the mesmerizing movement, his dick pushing gleefully against his zipper .

Richie sucked in a deep breath at the flush of desire that raced over him.   Tearing his eyes away from the hypnotic roll of her hips, Richie raised his gaze to meet Annie’s.   His heart warmed at the enraptured smile on Annabelle’s pretty face and at the sparkle in her clear blue eyes. 

Jesus, she was beautiful.  And she was smiling at him.

It took Richie a moment to realize his lips were moving.  Surprised, he grinned as he continued to sing along, backing up Ralph’s vocals.

Though we’re apart

You follow me still

For you were my thrill

 On Blueberry Hill

Richie struck the harmonious chord to end the song, giving Annie another little grin before turning back to face his bandmates.

“Not bad , Son… not bad!”  Big Moe nodded his approval at Richie as he reached for his drink.  “Think you got a few more in ya?”

Richie nodded eagerly.  “Yeah, Man.  Whatever… I’ll jump right in.”

“You jumpin’ in with both feet now!”  Ralph laughed, mopping his sweaty brow with a dingy bar rag.  “Shee-it, a few more and Sammy’s goin’ think we done replaced him with a long-haired Yankee.”

Richie laughed at the big man’s prediction.  “Naw, I don’t think so.  One night only.”  His smile gentled as he shot another glance in Annie’s direction.

Ralph noticed.  “Ohhhh Lawdy!  Yankee-Boy’s tryin’ to impress a Woman.” He grinned.  “It workin’?”

Feeling his cheeks color, Richie was suddenly grateful for the dim lighting.  He shrugged.  “Don’t know.  She just wanted to hear me play, is all.”

“Well, Son… from the looks of things you’re doin’ just fine.”  Elvin the trumpet player tipped his head toward Annabelle, giving Richie a little smirk.  “I been knowin’ Annie since she was a little girl.  That’s a real smile you got there.”

“Uhhh….”  Richie shifted uneasily, adjusting the Gibson’s strap across his shoulder .

Ralph let out a chortle at Richie’s sudden discomfort.  “Well c’mon, Son… let’s give her somethin’ more to smile about.  What you wanna play?”

“Huh?  Me?”  The Piano Man’s question caught Richie off guard.  He figured he would just jam, go along with whatever music the band wanted to play.  After all, it was their set, not his.

“Do you see any other Gee-tar totin’ Yankee Boy on this stage?”  Ralph’s good-natured tease made Richie chuckle, then shake his head.

“No, Sir.”

“There he goes again with that mannerly shit!”  Amused by Richie’s reaction to their teasing, Big Moe added his poke.   “Come on, Yankee.  Surely you got somethin’ you wanna play, to show off for Miss Annabelle over there.  She got eyes for you, Boy.  You do it right you maybe gonna get a goodnight kiss tonight.”  Moe chortled gleefully as Richie fidgeted again.

“C’mon, Son.  These folks is waitin’ to dance.”  Ralph prodded Richie again.  “Give us somethin’.”

Richie thought for a second, then grinned.  He knew what to play.  “Alright… ready?”

“You just go on, Boy.  We’ll pick it up.”

With a deep breath Richie stepped up to the front of the stage, under the beam of a blue stage light.   He felt a rush of excitement as he fingered the first electric notes, launching into the immediately-recognizable lick introducing “Johnny B. Goode.”  


Richie heard a whoop and a laugh behind him and he knew he had chosen well.  His eyes squinted closed and his grin broadened as he let the music move him again.  He felt his hips and shoulders rocking to the beat as Ralph picked up the vocals.

Down in Lou-si-anna near to New Orleans

Way back up in the woods among the evergreens…

Annie clasped her hands together and held them to her chest as she laughed.   The pure joy in Richie’s expression made her heart swell with happiness.   He looked so handsome, so confident and cool as his hands flew over the strings.  Now there was no sign of the quiet sadness that had seemed to surround Richie during his brief time in her company.

“Day-um!”  Annie giggled when she heard Sammy’s voice near her ear.  She gave her friend an enthusiastic grin as he stepped up beside her.  Sammy handed Annie a cold beer and nodded toward the stage.  “Look at him go!  Boy can flat-out play!”

“Yeah!”  Annie couldn’t stand still in her excitement.  “He’s great, ain’t he?”  As she raised the bottle to her lips her hips swayed in a little twisting rhythm.

“Well come on, Girl!  You ain’t standin’ still!”  Sammy reached for Annie’s hand, joining her in her twist.  Annie tossed her hair back as she laughed merrily, turning to face Sammy as they danced together to the rollicking tune. 

The movement caught Richie’s attention and he glanced over at Annie.  He was momentarily startled to see her dancing with some guy, a little twinge of jealousy shooting through him.  Then he recognized her partner as the owner of the guitar strapped across his body.  


He grinned.  Richie had no problem with Sammy sharing a dance with Annie.  At least she wasn’t dancing with that asshole Rex.

“Take it, Richie!”  Ralph’s shout of his name snapped Richie’s attention back to his performance.  Automatically he stepped up to the microphone positioned next to Big Moe’s bass.

He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack

Go sit beneath a tree near the railroad track

Oh, the engineers would see him sittin’ in the shade

Strummin’ with the rhythm that the drivers made

People passin’ by they would stop and say

My oh my that little country boy could play…

Annie froze in mid-twist at Richie’s voice belting out the lyrics in a bluesy growl.  Her jaw dropped as she stared at him up on the stage, watching him sing into the microphone as he continued to riff furiously on the Gibson.  Richie had said he could sing, but not that he could sing like this.

Sammy laughed at Annie’s reaction to Richie’s vocals.  He could tell she was sweet on the guy; tonight he had watched her smile and giggle like a high-schooler around Richie.  From what he could tell she had picked a nice guy on which to focus her attention.  And one hell of a musician.

Annie’s expression turned to a gentle smile as she watched Richie launch into to the mid-song guitar solo.  The passion in his playing was obvious; the melody that sang from the guitar seemed to come from his whole body rather than the instrument.  


She chortled softly as she saw Richie squint his eyes shut, his face contorting into a raptured grimace and his lips first puckering then drawing back to reveal tightly clenched teeth.  Richie’s body was as expressive as his face, bending forward at the waist then arching backward as he aimed the Gibson’s neck skyward as the rapid notes flew from his fingertips.  His sweat-streaked skin glowed in the reddish-blue  stage lights and his hair curled in damp strands across his forehead and against his neck.

He was breathtaking.

Annabelle wasn’t the only one who appreciated Richie’s impassioned guitar work.  As Ralph and Big Moe launched back into the chorus of Go! Go, Johnny Go!  the juke joint erupted with applause, whoops, and hollers.  Richie grinned broadly at the crowd and touched his fingers to his forehead in a little salute, then continued to play.  He stepped up to the mic beside Big Moe and added his voice to the chorus.

The song continued on for another five minutes, Ralph renewing the chorus three more times as the crowded dance floor pulsed with energy and Richie continued to burn up his guitar strings.  Finally the big man called the end of the song, standing up at the piano and pounding his hands down on the keys with a loud disharmonious  plunk.   A final crashing riff from Richie was met with renewed applause.

Wiping a hand across his sweaty face, Richie turned to grin at Annabelle.  The look of pure awe on her beautiful face made his heart leap in his chest.  He could hardly believe that look was for him.  But he knew it was.  He had made her happy, had given her what she asked for.  His music.

Richie’s gaze slipped to Sammy, who was standing beside Annie, clapping and hollering with the rest of the crowd.  Their eyes met and Richie gave the young man a grateful smile.  His heart twinged with disappointment as he realized it was time to step down, to let Sammy return to his place on the stage.

But first he wanted to do just one more song.  For Annie.

Turning around to face the musicians, Richie called out over the din.  “Follow me!”  He ignored the surprise on Big Moe’s face at his command.  He prayed the men would overlook his audacity at taking the lead, that they would cut the “Yankee Boy” a little slack in his one and only jam session in this backwoods joint.

Richie took a deep breath and shot another glance in Annie’s direction.  Her smile buoyed his confidence as he stepped up to the mic and struck the moody, rambling riff that preceded the lyrics.  His eyes drifted closed as his lips moved in close to the microphone head.

There is a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun

It’s been the ruin of many a poor boy

And God, I know I’m one

Richie felt his body relax, a euphoric flush sweeping through his synapses.  He heard the rest of the band kick in:  the bass, the drums, the piano.  The noisy juke-joint din in his ears quieted to a hum as the high carried him away.  


It was better than any drug, sweeter and more powerful than any substance he had ever tried.  


Richie's soul came pouring out in his whiskey-roughened croon.

My mother was a tailor

She sewed my new blue jeans

My father was a gamblin’ man

Down in New Orleans

Now the only thing a gambler needs

Is a suitcase and a trunk

And the only time he’s satisfied

Is when he’s on a drunk

Richie’s chin dropped to his chest and he took a half-step back from the microphone.  His eyes remained closed and his soft lips pressed together as he fingered out a mournful solo on the magic gold Gibson.  He heard Elvin’s muted trumpet cry out a pained melody, an improvised solo that melded with the rambling of Ralph’s piano and the deep thumping twang of Big Moe’s bass.  The quiet snick of the drums ticked away like a watch.

Annie stood stock-still, her eyes gleaming bright blue as she stared at Richie.  She could hardly breathe.  She had always loved this musical lament of a life gone wrong; she had the Animals’ record in her stereo cabinet at home.  But she had never heard such a soul-wrenching rendition of this song.  Richie’s performance was almost heartbreaking.  It was as if he was living and breathing the lyrics that slid from his soft lips.

Oh mother, tell your children

Not to do what I have done

Spend your lives in sin and misery

In the House of the Rising Sun

Well I got one foot on the platform

The foot other on the train

I’m goin’ back to New Orleans

To wear that ball and chain

Well, there is a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun

And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy

And God I know I’m one

And God I know I’m one

Richie stood motionless at the microphone as he felt the last notes vibrate from the Gibson that rested against his body.  Then it was silent and still.  His heart sank and his chin dropped to his chest.

It was over.

Suddenly the roar of the crowd rushed all around him, pulling him from his trance.  He slowly raised his head and opened his eyes to find a sea of grinning faces.  With a humble nod and a little wave he acknowledged the crowd’s appreciation, then he turned his back to them.  


He heard Ralph calling out his name, urging the crowd to continue their applause for his performance.  But he couldn’t turn back around.  He couldn't face them.  It would make him want more.

Richie’s heart gave a dull throb of protest as he as he lifted Sammy’s guitar away from his body, slowly drawing the strap over his head.  He winced.

“Shit, Man – that was fantastic!” 

Richie turned to give the young guitarist a little smile.  He shrugged.  “Thanks, Man.”  His heart clenched again as he handed the Gibson back to Sammy.  “I mean it, Man.  Thanks for letting me use her.  It… it was great.”  Richie swallowed hard, trying to stuff the emotion back down into his gut.

“Oh, Richie…”

The sound of her voice made Richie’s smile turn genuine.  He looked past Sammy to where Annie had stepped up onto the corner of the stage.  Her blue eyes glittered like sapphires as she gazed back at him.

“That was… that was…” Annie stammered, overwhelmed.  “Uh… Oh my.”  She took a deep breath, then smiled gently.  “Beautiful.”

Richie chuckled and shrugged humbly.  “Thanks.  I’ve always liked that song.”

“Well shit, how am I gonna top that?”  Sammy’s tease turned Richie’s attention back to him.  Richie watched the young man sling the Gibson around his neck and settle it at his waist.

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem, Man.  No problem.”  Richie reached out his hand to Sammy for a grateful shake.  “Thanks again.  It felt good.”

“Any time.”  With a grin and a wink Sammy turned toward the band, ready for Ralph’s cue.

Richie quickly stepped off the front of the stage, moving out of Sammy’s way.  He automatically reached out for Annie’s hand as he saw her move to dismount the platform as well.  Her soft, warm hand slid into his and Richie felt his heart throb again. 

Annie tugged Richie toward her, leading him a few steps away from the stage as the band launched into an old Ray Charles ballad.  Thinking she wanted to dance again, Richie stopped and pulled his hand from hers, slipping his arms around her waist when she turned to look at him.  He smiled down at her, waiting for her to loop her arms around his neck and turn her cheek to his shoulder.  


Instead she placed her palms against his sweaty chest and gazed at her hands for a long moment before raising her face to his.  The gleam in her blue eyes made Richie’s knees go weak.  Her soft, sultry voice filled his head and made his heart leap.

“Richie… let’s get outta here.”