Restless Heart (10 page)

B
ack in the Saddle was always packed on Saturdays, and tonight was no different.

As Destiny wove her way through the tables toward the stage, all of the things that could go wrong flashed into her head. What if she tripped up the steps? Knocked over the microphone? Broke a guitar string? Forgot the lyrics? Hit a sour note? What if they hated her?

What if Seth was here?

What if he wasn’t?

She deliberately kept herself from scanning the room for him as she walked, focusing on the small stage instead. Her light supper felt like lead in her stomach and her mouth was completely dry.

At least she knew she looked good. After a two-hour wardrobe-changing marathon, she’d settled on jeans and a sexy black button-up shirt. She’d added a little sparkle: a double-stranded turquoise rock necklace with a crystal-studded spur rowel pendant and a matching bracelet.

She tried to swallow, but her tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth.

Shooting a panicky glance toward the bar, she caught Max’s eye and made a drinking motion with her free hand. When he nodded and held up a bottle of water, she mouthed, “Yes, please!”

Okay, that was better. Now all she had to worry about was . . . everything else.

At last she reached the stage, which suddenly seemed like a sky-scraper. She wished there was a handrail or something to grab on to and hoist herself up.

Her pulse pounded in absolute panic.

She gave herself a mental shake and was almost able to lift her leg when a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Just what in the world do you think you’re doin’?”

Awash in dismal dread, Destiny turned around and came face-to-face with Mandy Mason. Well, not exactly face-to-
face
. For the first time in ages, Destiny was glad for her superior height. In her heels she really towered over Mandy.

Unfortunately that didn’t seem to faze her. “I saaaa-id
what
in the
world
do you think you’re doin’?”

Destiny somehow managed to unglue her tongue. “Ralph said you’ve been fired, Mandy.”

“Yeah, like he’s gonna stick to that. Excuse me.”

Destiny arched an eyebrow. Heart pounding wildly, she managed to respond with a firm, “I don’t think so.”

Mandy jutted her chin in the air and gave her blond hair a toss. “Then I’ll just have to move your big ole Amazon-ass outta my way,” she announced so loudly that the microphone picked up her voice. Of course, almost everyone in the restaurant stopped eating and suddenly all eyes were focused on them.

Destiny calmly tilted her guitar case against the steps, then turned back to face her snooty little foe. She could easily lift Mandy up and flip her out of the way like a Frisbee. Too bad physical intimidation wasn’t her style; she preferred brain power. Unfortunately, her brain was already on overload and she had no idea what to do or say next.

Luckily, Max intervened. “Here’s your water, Destiny.”

“Oh . . . uh, thanks.” Destiny reached over and took the cold bottle from Max’s outstretched hand, aware that all eyes in the room were still on her.

Mind racing, she unscrewed the cap and took a much-needed gulp.

“Mandy, you need to leave. Destiny is singing,” Max said quietly, but firmly.

“Get back to polishing the bar, Max,” Mandy hissed. “This is none of your concern.”

“Seriously, you need to leave.”

“Seriously, you need to shut your piehole. Don’t you have beer to pour or bathrooms to clean or something?”

“I’m giving you one last chance . . .”

“Bite me.”

“You asked for it.”

Destiny’s eyes widened as she watched Max—the big teddy bear of a guy who was terrified to sing in front of an audience—hop right up onto the stage.

He took the mike and signaled for silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?”

Except for the clinking of glasses and silverware, the restaurant got quiet. With all eyes focused on him, Max swallowed hard, but managed a smile.

“I think what we need here is a little sing-off. Whaddaya say?” he asked, and was answered with cheers and whistles.

Destiny’s jaw dropped.

“Let’s listen to Mandy Mason sing first, and then Destiny Hart. Then y’all decide who you want with your applause. Whoever gets the biggest cheer will be our performer at Back in the Saddle tonight.”

Oh boy
. Destiny glanced around for Ralph and found him over by the hostess stand, looking as if he was going to march up to the stage and give Max what for. But when the audience roared in wild approval of the little wager, Ralph crossed his arms over his chest and grinned as though this had been his own brilliant idea.

“You ready, Mandy?” Max gestured toward the stool.

Detecting a slight twitch to his lips, Destiny could tell that this wasn’t easy for him, and she loved him for it. Besides, with his deep baritone, he had terrific stage presence, and she dearly hoped that someday he got to use it.

“I . . . uh . . .” Mandy narrowed her eyes and glared up at Max.

“Or would you rather Destiny went first?”

“No, I—I—this is just plain stupid. I’m outta here!” She turned on her heel and marched out the door with her hips swinging.

Max saluted her back, and the crowd cheered.

“Well, now that we have that unpleasantness out of the way, allow me to introduce a talented young lady with a voice that will knock your socks off. Put down your burgers and beers and give it up for Nashville’s own Destiny Hart! Show them who really owns this stage, Destiny!”

Max jumped down. “Go get ’em, girl!”

“That took some guts,” Destiny whispered back, giving him a quick hug. “You’re a good friend and I can’t thank you enough.”

Max squeezed her hard and she took a deep breath, then stepped up into the spotlight.

Destiny was welcomed with cheers and whistles. At the realization that after all that build-up, she definitely couldn’t disappoint, Destiny felt light-headed. Her heart pounded wildly and her knees felt so weak that she had to immediately sit down on the stool. The sea of faces blurred and ran together and her panic mounted.

She was about to blow her big chance.

The crowd settled down, watching her, and Destiny sensed a ripple of disappointment that might very well kill the earlier buzz. She blinked and tried to think of something clever to say.

Good idea! But her fingers were frozen on the guitar strings and her voice seemed to have taken a sudden leave of absence.

A hush had fallen over the crowd. Any moment now they would be booing and chanting for Mandy. Oh, this wasn’t good . . .

“Hey, Destiny Hart!”

That familiar voice snapped Destiny out of her stage fright. She shielded her hand above her eyebrows and over the crowd to be sure.

“I dare you to sing Gretchen Wilson’s ‘Here for the Party!’”

Seth.

She couldn’t see him out there, but she recognized his voice—and the challenge. He knew as well as she did that Gretchen’s kickin’ song would get the crowd rocking. He also knew she couldn’t back down from a dare.

Although her heart was still pounding like crazy, Destiny adjusted the microphone and shouted, “Hey there, Nashville, Tennessee! I know
I’m
here for the party, too! How about you guys?”

Whoops and “hell yeahs” rang out through the audience and suddenly the magic was back.

“I can’t
hear
. . . you!” Playing to the crowd, she cupped her hand to her ear and waited. When they roared in approval, she shouted, “Well, then, let’s get this party started!”

Destiny dove into the song, gaining strength and confidence when she had the whole room singing along.

“I’m here for the party . . . yeah!” Destiny raised her fist into the air at the conclusion of the kick-butt song. Deciding to keep right on riding the wave, she asked, “Are there any redneck women out there?”

Of course her question was answered with cheers and “hell yeahs.”

In the front row, she spotted Nessie, who put her thumb and pinkie between her lips and gave a shrill whistle of approval. “Come on, girl! I know I’m here to have some fun!”

Her last bit of fear thrust away by a surge of adrenaline, Destiny shouted, “Well, then, get your redneck selves up here on the dance floor and sing along with some Southern pride!”

Destiny slid right into “Redneck Woman” and within moments, had the dance floor packed.

To keep the energy going she went right into Miranda Lambert’s “Gunpowder and Lead.”

“Thank you!” Destiny told the cheering crowd and then paused to take a long swig of water.

She’d watched Mandy perform too many times not to feel the difference in the crowd tonight. Maybe this was only Back in the Saddle Bar and Grille, and maybe she was far from making it in this business, but this was what she had been working toward and waiting for.

“My mother introduced me to the country classics when I was a little girl moving from one air force base to the next. I’m a military brat—‘born, raised, and transferred’—and no matter where I lived, even overseas, I never lost my love of bluegrass, gospel, and country music. I was teased for not listening to boy bands or Top 40, but I can sing along with every Tammy Turner song you can name. Another one of my idols, Barbara Mandrell, sings, ‘I Was Country When Country Wasn’t Cool,’ and I’d like to perform her signature song for y’all right now.” She grinned and added, “I know y’all have been right there with me on this one. Am I right?”

When Destiny was met with more wild cheers, she learned that connecting with her audience on a personal level was crucial. The amazing thing was that she was being completely honest and simply herself...

And they liked her. Incredible.

The rest of the performance flew by, and before she knew it, she was thanking the band and the audience to a thunderous round of applause.

As she stepped down from the stage, her knees still felt a bit wobbly and her heart pounded like mad but she felt good. Great.

She planted a big smile on her face and looked around for Seth, but before she could find him, a distinguished-looking silver-haired gentleman walked up to her.

“Hello, Destiny Hart,” he said in a whiskey-smooth voice laced with a touch of the South. “Allow me to introduce myself.”

Immediately wary, she took a step back, experiencing déjà vu. This was exactly how she’d met Billy Jackson, who’d come up to her after a pinch-hit performance here last year.

“I’m Nick Novell of Sundial Records.”

Nick Novell! The man was a country music industry icon. But recognizing the name as legitimate didn’t exactly relax her. On the contrary, she found her hand shaking as she reached out to shake his.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Novell.”

“Likewise.” Nick angled his head toward the doorway. “Could we walk out into the hallway where it’s not quite so noisy?”

“Sure.” As she followed him through the crowd, Nessie grabbed her arm. Today her jeans were eye-popping pink with bright yellow piping. Big white sunglasses held back her puffed-up platinum-blond wig, which fell past her narrow shoulders in fat curls instead of little ringlets.

“You were dynamite, kiddo! Come here, I want you to meet—”

“Hang on, I’ll be right back, Nessie.” She pointed at Nick, and saw her friend’s eyes widen. Nessie gave her a big grin and a thumbs-up.

In the hallway leading to the break room, Nick Novell told her, “I don’t come in here very often, but luckily I had a craving tonight for a Back in the Saddle bacon cheeseburger. Once I have it on my mind, I have to have one.”

“Oh, I’m the same way about chicken and biscuits at the Loveless Café,” she heard herself say, and wished she hadn’t.

“You know,” he said with a grin, “there are lots of other biscuits in the world.”

“True, but these are really special.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” Destiny replied without stopping to think.

Holy cow, had she really just said that to Nick Novell?

To her blessed relief, he tossed his silver head back and laughed.

“You are something else, young lady.”

“Thank you . . . Oh wait. You meant that in a good way, right?”

“Sure did. I’ve been going to lots of showcases lately, searching for someone with a cool, sexy sound laced with some sass.”

“Did you find it?”

“There’s plenty of talent in Nashville.”

“Oh.” Destiny tried to sound upbeat. “That’s so true.”

“But like those biscuits, you have some extra-special ingredient that I can’t quite put my finger on . . .”

Her heart began to race. Maybe this really was her big break.

Nick pursed his lips, eyeing her thoughtfully. “You’ve got the cool sexy sound and more than a little sass, but there’s a vulnerability about you that softens the edge. I saw it when you stepped up onto the stage.”

“I was terrified for a minute there,” she admitted.

“Maybe, but determination won out. You’ll need that in this business. It’s not for the faint of heart. You also have a gift for songwriting. ‘Restless Heart’ was a beautiful song with a fun, honest edge.”

“Really?”

“I don’t give out compliments lightly. Ask anyone who knows me.” Nick reached into his pocket, pulled out a slim leather case, flipped it open, and handed her a card. “This is a music publishing house. Contact them and drop my name.”