Page 56 of What Would Dolly Do?

W hen Angelo dropped us off at The Bluebird there was already a line of people waiting outside hoping to get tickets for that night’s show.

I stood patiently beneath the blue canopied awning over the front door as Tom signed a few autographs and posed for selfies.

At least some of the people waiting in vain would have something to show for the hours standing on a non-descript suburban street.

Sandwiched between a jewellery repair shop, a hair salon and a dry cleaners, the cafe venue didn’t look that special at all, but I knew stars like Kris Kristofferson, Carole King, Faith Hill, Garth Brooks and Vince Gill had all played this gig at one time or another.

Taylor Swift had even been discovered at The Bluebird when she was just fourteen years old.

This place thrummed with the memories of such musical moments and Tom Coltrane was about to add his name to the list of amazing musicians who wowed the music-loving crowd.

Once inside Tom introduced me to the other musicians he would be playing alongside, a soft-spoken brunette called Jessie, a chatty joker named Caleb, and Garrett, who was tall, handsome and rather intense.

They all seemed to be dealing with playing alongside someone as famous as Tom in their own way and I thought it looked like a great line-up for the show.

They were already bouncing off each other with that instant ease musicians so often have with one another.

I was shown to a seat at a small round table on the edge of the space cleared for the performers where empty stools and microphone stands stood waiting for them. I ordered a margarita and watched as the seats around me filled up quickly with folk as excited as I was to be there.

‘May I join you?’

A deep voice from above my head startled me mid-sip but I swallowed down the large mouthful of limey tequila blinking rapidly to stop my eyes watering.

‘Of course!’ I sounded a lot more husky than usual as the alcohol burned its way down my throat but Waz Monsoon didn’t bat one of his chocolate brown eyes as he settled into the wooden seat right next to me and introduced himself.

‘Looks good,’ he said, nodding towards my drink. ‘Make mine a margarita too and another for the lady.’

The busboy hovering at his elbow answered ‘Yes sir’ as Waz flashed me a smile that showed off his dazzlingly perfect white teeth.

I was determined not to appear nervous or flustered so I smiled and thanked him and then did my very best to chat normally to this music mogul manager.

If Waz was some sort of monster he was able to hide it incredibly well.

He was very good-looking in a highly polished sort of way.

I found him charming, easy to talk to and with a sense of humour that was more British than American.

Along with his mid-Atlantic accent he had acquired an appreciation for irony that was lost on some yanks.

That was unexpected. We were getting on so well I decided to be very brave and bring up the taboo subject of Juliana Ripon.

Waz gave me an appraising sort of look as I boldly said that I thought Juliana was a beautiful girl but not really ‘ the right match ’ for Tom. There was a long pause, during which I realised I had no idea how to read the expression on Waz Monsoon’s face before he replied, ‘But you are?’

I held his gaze and my nerve. ‘Maybe,’ I said.

I don’t know why I did it, it felt like dangerous territory to get into, but what had happened with Juliana felt like the elephant in the room and I didn’t want Waz to think I was some gullible fool who hadn’t got a clue what had been going on.

Maybe it was just the tequila talking, I’d heard that it was the drink most likely to send someone crazy.

Or maybe it was the bolder side of me being brought out by being Reba.

I doubted I would have tackled something so head on when I went by the name of Becky. But Becky wasn’t here, I was Reba now.

Waz nodded slowly, pursing his lips as though he was giving this matter full consideration. ‘Maybe … maybe, Reba Moon … there’s definitely potential here, I can see that quite clearly.’

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that but then the crowd started to applaud as Tom and the other musicians took their place in the centre of the circle and the show began.

It was an exhilarating show to watch, full of banter between the musicians and wonderful musical performances. The crowd loved hearing Tom tell the story of how Dolly Parton helped him write ‘Whisper Away’ and his hit song got a great reception when he played it.

There was a brief interval when Tom came over to say hi to Waz and leaned down to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘You doin’ okay honey?’ he asked. I nodded in response.

‘Don’t worry about Reba, Tom,’ Waz told him, ‘she can look after herself just fine.’ He gave me a knowing wink.

Tom gave me a quizzical look but there was no time to explain as the second set was about to start and Tom took his place back in the circle.

‘I think you’re right, Reba,’ Waz told me as microphone stands were adjusted and guitars tuned. ‘You and Tom could make a very cool couple … falling in love with a girl from his Scottish homeland is a great story, the media would lap that up … it could really help Tom’s sales in the UK too.’

I whipped my head to look at Waz but he was already leaning away from me, chatting to a sultry-looking young girl in white cowboy boots who had manoeuvred her chair closer to his and was now busy whispering in his ear, no doubt telling him about her own aspirations to be a singer.

For the second half of the show I was a bit distracted as Waz’s words went round and round my head and I wondered if he was seriously planning to send out some sort of press release about my relationship with Tom?

Would Tom be okay with that? How would I feel about it?

Some articles had been written in the press about Tom and Juliana growing apart and spending less time together but the subject hadn’t attracted big headlines or much media debate until they ‘split’.

Was I about to be used as just another pawn in the publicity game to enhance Tom’s career?

It didn’t feel right to have my private life being managed by someone like Waz Monsoon.

Whatever Tom and I revealed to the wider world should be up to us, not this sharp-suited, fast-talking manager.

My mind was reeling but I got pulled right back into the moment as I heard Tom begin to talk about how he came to write ‘Moonlight Home’.

‘Sometimes, as a songwriter and in life, you can feel like you’ve lost your way a little,’ he said as Jessie, Garrett and Caleb nodded with understanding. ‘But then something happens to get you back on the right path.’

‘Like winning the lottery?’ Caleb joked as the audience laughed.

‘Yeah sure, that could work,’ Tom told him with a grin. ‘But it could be just making different choices.’

‘Or maybe reconnecting with people?’ Jessie offered.

‘Yeah, that too …’ Tom said. ‘Or reconnecting with places, revisiting somewhere that means a lot to us. In my case I did both, I made some choices that were better for me, went back to my Scottish roots, and it helped me remember who I really was. I also met someone and that person really helped me rediscover myself and my love for the music I make. Suddenly I felt I was back on the right path. That’s how I came to write “Moonlight Home”. ’

I realised I was holding my breath as Tom spoke. Everyone always listens avidly to the songwriters in this kind of session, but right now Tom had completely captured everyone’s attention.

‘The question is, ladies and gentlemen …’ Tom was fiddling with the capo on his guitar as he spoke, ‘will the very special person, who is here in this room tonight, come up and help me sing this song for you right now?’

My heart thudded in my chest like a tom-tom beating out a distress signal.

‘I think that’s your cue,’ Waz whispered into my ear but then as I looked at his face so close to mine I saw his expression was sincere. He added, ‘Go on Reba, take your moment and enjoy it.’

So that’s exactly what I did.

As I stepped forward into the circle, Caleb jumped up to drag a stool in for me and Jessie and Garrett hitched themselves around so there was room next to Tom.

‘Folks, will you please give Reba Moon a very warm welcome to The Bluebird,’ Tom announced into his mic as his eyes finally met mine and he gave me a sexy smile.

All my senses were on fire, everything sounded louder, looked clearer, I could practically feel the blood coursing through my own veins.

The fairy lights strung around the walls of The Bluebird twinkled and glowed brighter than any I’d ever seen before, creating a magical space that felt totally separate from the rest of the world.

I felt weirdly at home in these unfamiliar surroundings and I could sense Tom felt this was the perfect place to give this song its Nashville debut.

As soon as Tom began to strum the opening chords I relaxed even more, there was just Tom and me lost inside our duet about finding your way through the darkness and following your heart towards the light, towards home.

Once the song was over I made my way back to my seat next to Waz as the audience applauded loudly.

It was the most surreal moment of my life but I now knew for sure that the tiny Bluebird stage had been the perfect place to make my Nashville debut.

The Grand Ole Opry would have been far too overwhelming.

I needed to work up to something like that, if I ever got that far.

Here I felt I’d held my own and been completely accepted by the audience and the other performers.

I was part of the Nashville music scene now and it felt wonderful.

‘I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of Reba Moon, folks, but you can tell people you were there for her very first performance at The Bluebird!’ Tom said as he and the other performers joined in with the applause before picking up the rest of their set and carrying on with the show.

At the end of the night quite a few people came over to say hi, tell me how much they loved ‘Moonlight Home’ and said they had enjoyed my performance.

That was lovely to hear but I was super keen to know what Waz Monsoon had thought?

Unfortunately, as the lights came up, I discovered the seat beside me was empty.

Both Waz and the sultry-looking girl in the white cowboy boots were nowhere to be seen.

In the car on the way home Tom laughed when I mentioned Waz’s disappearing act.

‘Ah, typical Waz,’ he said affectionately.

‘He’s the master of the French exit, got it down to a fine art.

Waz can get a lot of people banging his ear in a place like The Bluebird, there’s always someone trying to get his attention, so he just picks his moment to disappear. ’

That made sense. I didn’t mention to Tom that the dark-haired girl in the tasselled micro mini skirt seemed to have got his attention okay and disappeared with him. None of my business.

‘He thought you were great though, Reba, I could tell.’

‘Really?’ I was sceptical but something in me was very keen to know if the great Waz Monsoon really rated me.

‘You’ll be able to ask him yourself soon enough,’ Tom said slipping his arm along the leather upholstery and pulling me closer on the back seat as Angelo drove the car through the darkness. ‘If you don’t see him before, he’s bound to be at The Country Music Awards next month.’

‘The CMAs?’

The grin on Tom’s face was now as wide as I’d ever seen it, he was beaming with delight as I realised what he was telling me.

‘We are going to the CMAs?’ I needed to hear him say it, confirm the fact that I would be his plus-one at the biggest night of the year in Nashville. Anyone who was anyone in country music would be at the televised awards event at The Bridgestone Arena and it was always such a glamorous occasion.

‘Well if you’re busy I could always take Angelo. You’d come along for a hoot and a holler, wouldn’t you, Angel buddy?’

Angelo started to join in with Tom’s teasing but I cut them both off. ‘Oh don’t you worry, I’ll be there,’ I told them firmly.

I could barely catch my breath with all the surprises coming at me, one incredible experience followed by another, but all at once I was thunderstruck by a sudden concern.

‘Oh! But what will I wear?’

Tom shook his head but he was still smiling at me.

He could have mocked me, told me it didn’t matter or that there was nothing to worry about, I’d find something.

As if I’d packed anything remotely suitable for a televised awards ceremony like the Country Music Awards?

But I was learning fast that Tom wasn’t that kind of guy.

He knew I needed to know I looked my best to be comfortable enough to walk into that kind of event so he had the perfect answer ready.

‘Well I think in a situation like this we will definitely need to schedule a shopping trip, or two,’ Tom said. ‘Angelo is at your disposal, Reba, he can take you to the very best shops Nashville has to offer and you’ve got a couple of weeks to find something just perfect. How does that sound?’

That sounded wonderful to me but I couldn’t quite find the words to tell Tom how happy and excited I was. I would have to show him once I got him alone.