alive. I don’t want to see you regret that you didn’t give this your best shot when you had the chance."
George’s gaze narrowed. His grip hardened.
"And if you’re not happy with yourself, there’s no way you could be making my little girl happy."
He gave Tom’s shoulder one final pat before removing his hand. "The tour is over in three weeks. Bethany will still be around when it’s over. Trust me."
"She’ll be safe, and she’ll be there for you. No matter how things go in your career, she’ll still be there."
And with that, George resumed his retreat to the stage area, leaving Tom to ponder the man’s prophetic remarks.
•
After her first "date" with Tom in Macon , Beth had deliberately stayed nearby to watch each Roadhouse performance. Technically she was off-duty during the shows, but she loved watching them. It didn’t matter that she had to get right back to work afterward, disassembling and packing up equipment. She couldn’t not watch.
And it wasn’t just Tom that held her attention. The dynamics of the group, how they interacted with each other and with the audience, held her enthralled.
The length of the performance was twice that of the average band’s set. Not having an opening act gave more time for Roadhouse to showcase their talents. But since they’d only released one album, they had a limited number of original songs to play.
And no matter how popular those songs were, nobody wanted to hear them three times in the same night.
So Roadhouse interspersed their own songs with cover versions of hits from other bands. They put their distinctive spin on tunes from the Beatles to the Stones and Eagles, from Motown harmonies to a cappella ditties.
No genre of music was exempt from their brand of attention. And no matter what they played, they kept the audience, including Beth, enraptured.
It wasn’t just the songs they sang; it was their incredible energy. They frequently changed instruments, showing their versatilities not only in song styles but also in abilities.
Electric guitars gave way to acoustic ones. A drum set gave way to bongos. Electric keyboards gave way to a grand piano. The guys utilized solos to highlight their talents, regardless of which instrument they were playing at the time.
Even Liz and Hannah added to the melodies being played by occasionally banging and shaking tambourines.
Through it all, Beth could see how much fun everyone was having, how overwhelming the whole experience was. Especially during slow ballads, she could see the intense emotions on the guys’ faces.
And no matter how sad the lyrics of the song were, she knew the members of Roadhouse wouldn’t trade that moment, on that stage, for anything else in the world.
Her current viewpoint from near the speaker tower at stage right allowed her to see both the band and the first rows of the audience. The fans were swaying in their seats, singing and clapping along to the rocking beat of one of Roadhouse’s own country tunes.
As her gaze traveled over the excited crowd, something struck her as odd.
Beth’s eyes sought out and found what had seemed out of place—a younger, dark-haired woman sitting a few rows back. She was just sitting there, staring at the stage.
While everyone around her was enjoying the performance, smiling, laughing, moving with the music, this girl just sat still, seemingly immune to the activities around her.
Maybe she was deaf, although it would’ve been pretty stupid to spend money for a concert she couldn’t hear.
She could be blind, but she’d still be able to hear the music and react to it, which wasn’t happening.
And Beth could see the brunette’s head moving, following the movements of someone on stage. She shifted her own gaze.
It was Tom.
The fan was watching Tom as he crossed the stage, performing a rousing solo near the end of the song.
Yeah, the man could play.
The muscles in his forearms flexed and shifted as he put everything he had into the
George’s gaze narrowed. His grip hardened.
"And if you’re not happy with yourself, there’s no way you could be making my little girl happy."
He gave Tom’s shoulder one final pat before removing his hand. "The tour is over in three weeks. Bethany will still be around when it’s over. Trust me."
"She’ll be safe, and she’ll be there for you. No matter how things go in your career, she’ll still be there."
And with that, George resumed his retreat to the stage area, leaving Tom to ponder the man’s prophetic remarks.
•
After her first "date" with Tom in Macon , Beth had deliberately stayed nearby to watch each Roadhouse performance. Technically she was off-duty during the shows, but she loved watching them. It didn’t matter that she had to get right back to work afterward, disassembling and packing up equipment. She couldn’t not watch.
And it wasn’t just Tom that held her attention. The dynamics of the group, how they interacted with each other and with the audience, held her enthralled.
The length of the performance was twice that of the average band’s set. Not having an opening act gave more time for Roadhouse to showcase their talents. But since they’d only released one album, they had a limited number of original songs to play.
And no matter how popular those songs were, nobody wanted to hear them three times in the same night.
So Roadhouse interspersed their own songs with cover versions of hits from other bands. They put their distinctive spin on tunes from the Beatles to the Stones and Eagles, from Motown harmonies to a cappella ditties.
No genre of music was exempt from their brand of attention. And no matter what they played, they kept the audience, including Beth, enraptured.
It wasn’t just the songs they sang; it was their incredible energy. They frequently changed instruments, showing their versatilities not only in song styles but also in abilities.
Electric guitars gave way to acoustic ones. A drum set gave way to bongos. Electric keyboards gave way to a grand piano. The guys utilized solos to highlight their talents, regardless of which instrument they were playing at the time.
Even Liz and Hannah added to the melodies being played by occasionally banging and shaking tambourines.
Through it all, Beth could see how much fun everyone was having, how overwhelming the whole experience was. Especially during slow ballads, she could see the intense emotions on the guys’ faces.
And no matter how sad the lyrics of the song were, she knew the members of Roadhouse wouldn’t trade that moment, on that stage, for anything else in the world.
Her current viewpoint from near the speaker tower at stage right allowed her to see both the band and the first rows of the audience. The fans were swaying in their seats, singing and clapping along to the rocking beat of one of Roadhouse’s own country tunes.
As her gaze traveled over the excited crowd, something struck her as odd.
Beth’s eyes sought out and found what had seemed out of place—a younger, dark-haired woman sitting a few rows back. She was just sitting there, staring at the stage.
While everyone around her was enjoying the performance, smiling, laughing, moving with the music, this girl just sat still, seemingly immune to the activities around her.
Maybe she was deaf, although it would’ve been pretty stupid to spend money for a concert she couldn’t hear.
She could be blind, but she’d still be able to hear the music and react to it, which wasn’t happening.
And Beth could see the brunette’s head moving, following the movements of someone on stage. She shifted her own gaze.
It was Tom.
The fan was watching Tom as he crossed the stage, performing a rousing solo near the end of the song.
Yeah, the man could play.
The muscles in his forearms flexed and shifted as he put everything he had into the
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