Tennessee Rose

Gunner

A smile appears on my lip as I watch Presley and her backing band hurry though a quick soundcheck to a concert that was only quickly put together. It happened so fast all of our heads spun. Instead of how her usual concerts are promoted, this concert was purely promoted by social media and word of mouth. This could be a total failure or we could have to bring in some of Jesse’s sons for bouncers. And despite looking so put together and positive, the uncertainty of tonight is driving Presley crazy. You can tell by her missing a few words here and there and the nervous look hidden in her eyes.

“How does everything sound?” Presley asks me after she jumps off stage. “It sounds good, right?”

“You’re going to be fine,” I assure her. “You’re acting like this if your first concert. You’re not playing in front of thousands of fans; you can relax.”

“I need this to be perfect,” she tells me. “This is the start of my comeback. I’m reinventing myself. Nothing can go wrong tonight…”

“Bad news, Pres!” Rob comes running into the bar. “That local band that was supposed to open for you? They broke down three states over and will not be able to make it tonight.”

“Are you serious?” A nervous chuckle escapes her lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? Of course they broke down and won’t be able to make it. This is me, we’re talking about. Of course something will go wrong on the one night I need everything to go right.”

“Pres, it’s just a band. Stuff like this happens all the time.” I try and tell her. But she just looks at me, frantic as ever.

“This is a sign. A sign telling me this concert is a bad idea!”

“You can easily find another band to open up for you.” I tell her. “Fuck, if it’ll make you feel better 70 Proof Whiskey can open up for you.”

She looks at me with tears welling up in her eyes as a look of relief washes over her face. “You’d do that for me? You’d open up for me? I thought you hated my music.”

“I hated your old music,” I tell her offering her a smile. “I’d open up for this Presley without a shadow of a doubt.” She doesn’t say anything and just walks over to me; pulling me into a hug. Taken back, it takes me a couple seconds before I wrap my arms around her.

“You’re amazing you know that?” She asks me, as she nuzzles her face into my chest. “You have every right to hate me, to want to see me fail, but here you are. You’re willing to help me get back to who I was.”

“I’ve always liked that Presley more.” I chuckle causing the tiny blonde to pull away. “I know one day she’ll be back.”

“Thank you.” She smiles before walking off to be with her band once more. Sutton walks over to me with a smirk on her lips once Presley is out of earshot.

“For someone that said he’ll never support Presley, you’re doing a lot of supporting.” She chuckles. “What changed?”

“I was wrong to hate her,” I reply. “Happy now? You’ve been wanting me to say that for years. Now before you go on full celebration mode, I’ve got to go call the guys. We’ve got a gig tonight…”

**

It’s just before we’re about to go on, when Presley walks over to the band and I. She just smiles at us as tears threaten to fall from her eyes. “You have no idea what this means to me. “ Her voice is cracking as she swallows the lump in her throat. “You guys are truly amazing and I owe you everything for doing this.”

“You would have done it for us.” Brett states. “You’re our girl, Presley. You supported us when we didn’t even believe in ourselves. This is us finally paying out back for all those years of loyalty.”

“Break a leg out there.” She just smiles before walking away after Rob calls for her.

“She’s brave for doing this.” Daniels says. “I would still be hiding under the covers if this happened to me.”

“That’s the one thing I’ve always loved about Presley; she doesn’t quit.” I tell them as I watch Presley talk to her lead guitarist. She’s not wearing a tight, expensive black dress with high heels. She’s not wearing fancy jewelry or crazy amount of make-up. She’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans with worn out cowboy boots. Her make-up is barely there and sure she has extensions in but her hairstyle isn’t out there and fancy. She’s just that small town girl I fell in love with. More importantly; she looks happy.

“Gun, come on; it’s time to get out there.” Brett says, breaking my trance. I just nod my head before grabbing my guitar and make my way out to the screaming crowd.

“WHAT IS UP OAK BARREL!?” I yell into the microphone as we start the music to our first song. “This is your favorite, Tennessee Rose!” I look over to the side of the stage and see Presley standing there; watching us perform the first song I wrote after she left. The very same song that made us famous. The song I completely wrote about her...