Free Behind the Strings by Courtney Giardina Page B

seems to me like you have a serious case of boy fever right now. You’re all over the map. I think you might need to back away for a bit and figure out what the hell you’re doing.”
    I took a long sip of my beer as I held onto those words. I didn’t really answer any of the questions I had before, but at least Jaycie was there to help me talk them out. It was clear my feelings were all scrambled and I needed to spend some time working through them.
    “Oh, I love this song,” Jaycie said as the melody of an old George Strait song strummed through the entrance as the front door opened, floating in from the venue next door.
    “His voice actually sounds pretty amazing,” I said. “We need to go over there.”
    Jaycie sighed heavily. “We’re not working today, remember?”
    “Only for a minute,” I said, leaning closer to the window. George Straight had now turned into classic Rhett Akins and the voice was still as intoxicating. Whoever it was, I needed to see them and I needed to see them now. I threw my belongings into my oversized purse, stood and tossed some cash on the table. “Follow that voice when you’re done eating. I’ll meet you there.” I ran out without turning back.
    It was my job to find the real, true, raw talent in this ever-growing city of aspiring musicians, the ones who sometimes get overlooked today because of the miracle of overproduction used on those who would otherwise be mediocre. Sometimes I’d walk this area for miles, listening to song after song, but nothing would stand out. And then there would be days like today, where I hear it and I know it’s special. The voice, the song, and everything that came with. I needed to find the person behind those vocals.

 
    18
    I stood in the doorway of one of the most infamous bars in Nashville with the afternoon breeze grazing the back of my neck. A large crowd was gathered inside, so I waited for the song to end before pushing my way through. Rhett Akins was one of my favorite songwriters to this day and I wanted to enjoy each and every lyric. One thing I had always loved about this industry was the way an artist brought a song to life. It was mesmerizing, the feeling that comes over you when a line in a song is so true to reality that it captivates your heart and heals your soul.
    It wasn’t until I had elbowed past a couple dozen people that I realized I had heard that voice before. When I finally made it to the front of the stage, I saw that same “ just rolled out of bed ” black hair, jeans, and baggy t-shirt that had stood in front of me once before. This time, though, he had no drummer, no bass; it was just him up there with a little acoustic to back him up. He looked down for a second and smiled at me, then pulled the guitar strap off of his shoulder and stood for a quick break.
    “Celia, hey!” he said, hopping off the stage towards me.
    “Hey,” I said.
    Maybe it was because the last time I saw him I had been wearing stilettos and was distracted by the desire he brought out in me, but Jesse Rockford was much taller than I remembered him. And maybe it was his voice singing my favorite song that made him much more attractive than I remembered as well, but as he stood there in front of me with that same single dimple on his right cheek, I felt the strength in my knees begin to weaken.
    “You sound amazing up there,” I said.
    He motioned for us to move towards the bar. My mind was still reeling at the fact that Jesse was the man behind the voice I had heard through the windows of a pizza shop, so much so that I didn’t even hear what he had ordered for us. By the time two bottles were placed in from of us, Jaycie had found her way to me and squeezed onto the stool between us. She wasted no time introducing herself.
    “I’m going to assume that you are the man we were in search of?” she asked.
    “Well, I guess that depends on why you were looking for me,” Jesse said.
    She reached out her hand to him. “Jaycie