Random Acts of Trust by Julia Kent

“Serendipity,” one of their older, slower rock ballads, carried through the bar as the cocktail waitress asked me if I wanted another drink. I nodded blindly, shaking off my personal alternate dimension and rejoining reality with everyone else.
    I chuckled and sat down, dazed and amazed because—really? How Sam. How utterly Sam, the Sam of few words. The Sam of contemplation and the Sam who seemed to struggle with talking about anything outside of his domain. How typical. And yet, what a shock. The music washed over me and I felt myself grin hugely, watching the people in the audience clapping along. I joined in the wild applause at the end of the song, and even considered trying Darla’s two-fingered whistle.
    Trevor got up on stage center and announced that he’d written a new song for his girlfriend, Darla. “Yeah,” he said, “I had a bit of an interesting experience back in May.” The guys onstage laughed.
    “Tell it, honey!” Darla shouted from the front row.
    He smiled at her, the kind of grin that goes all the way through the eyes and into the heart. The kind of smile I wanted Sam to shine on me.
    Trevor paused and then reached a hand out. “You come up and tell it.”
    Darla took his hand and he lifted her up onto the stage. She seemed comfortable and sassy, and all that anger I had for her melted away. “So I was driving down I-76 in Ohio,” she said. “I’m from Ohio, if you haven’t noticed fact that I have no accent. Unlike you people.” A few titters from the crowd. “So, I’m driving down the highway and I see this naked dude wearing nothing but a guitar.” More titters and a few hoots and cheers.
    This was new to me. I hadn’t heard this story. Then again, why would I have? I’d only come back into this circle because I was chasing Sam.
    “Yeah! He’s wearing a guitar,” she explained, one hand jaunty on one hip, the other one holding the microphone as she smirked and split her attention between Trevor and the audience, “and only a guitar.” Whistles. “So, I pulled over to give him a ride.”
    “You don’t pick up hitchhikers!” someone shouted.
    She waved them away. “I know. I know. But sometimes you gotta do things you’re not supposed to. So, I pick him up and he turns out to be Trevor Connor. Trevor fucking Connor,” she said. Now the audience was eating out of her hand, a few of the groupies nodding vigorously. “And he’s high as a kite.” More laughter.
    “When isn’t he?” someone called out.
    “And so, through a series of unfortunate events—”
    “Unfortunate?” Trevor said.
    “Alright. Unpredictable ,” she corrected herself. “I found myself living a random act of crazy.”
    “Aw,” the crowd said, collectively charmed by the unexpected romance.
    “And then Joe Ross came along,” she added. The crowd cheered.
    “Where’s Joe?” someone shouted.
    She held up one finger. “I’ll get to that in a minute.” Her voice changed and choked up. “And then Joe Ross came along and I found myself surrounded by hot guys.” A bunch of the groupies whistled. “Simmer down. Simmer down,” she said. “You can’t have them anymore, they’re mine now.”
    “They?” someone said.
    Darla shot Trevor a look.
    Trevor marched over and took over the microphone. “Anyhow, thanks honey,” he said to Darla, giving her a pat on the ass as she jumped down offstage and back to her seat. “I wrote this song for Darla.”
    “What about Joe?”
    “Joe will be back—no worries,” Trevor assured them. “Now, who wants to hear a new song?”
    Instant explosion of frenzied cheers from the crowd.
    The guys had never done anything like this when we were in high school, and as the first chords of the new song started up, I watched Sam and wondered what it would be like to find a guy so in love with you that he would write you a song.
Sam
Your Mama told you to watch out for me
Your God told you to walk away
Your Daddy said nothing, for he was gone
And you