"Can't you stay at John's for the night? I've invited all the cool guys from school and don't want to play babysitter for my weird little sister. Honestly, I already pretend like we're not even related."
"First off, I'm sixteen, not some baby, and secondly, I'm really not in the mood to crash at John's tonight," Katie retorted, her frustration evident. She couldn't decide what irked her more – Joey acting embarrassed of her or the fact that she genuinely wanted to spend the night at Johnny's, but circumstances just wouldn't allow it. A phone call earlier had revealed Johnny's plans for a romantic evening with Vicky. Who would want their younger sister tagging along?
"Trouble in paradise?" Joey jeered, a mocking grin on his face. Instead of responding, Katie shot him a withering glare.
"Fine," she huffed, snatched her purse, and stormed out of the house.
Once outside, with the door shut firmly behind her, she crossed the yard and paused on the street, lighting a cigarette. Her thoughts raced as she contemplated her next move. Disturbing John was definitely out of the question.
After a moment, Katie briskly made her way toward the bus station. As she boarded the bus, a wistful smile tugged at her lips – she realized that tonight she wouldn't have to return home. It was a newfound freedom, an emotion she had never experienced until that very instant. She owed no one an explanation and could let herself be carried away by the night – the world felt wide open, if only for the next few hours.
Katie purchased a ticket from the driver ("Ah, young Miss de Rossi! Where are you off to at this late hour? And without Johnny! It's a rare sight to see you two apart!") and journeyed twenty miles to the neighboring Fontaine Park. Perched right on the shoreline was Unity Hall – a quaint club that hosted various bands five nights a week. She had frequented the place a handful of times when Johnny was performing. He held a deep affection for the venue, partly because his musical idol, Bill Bentley, had taken his first steps towards fame on the very same stage.
Katie strolled along the shoreline for a good ten minutes. The darkness had descended, and she immersed herself in the crashing melody of the sea. The wind tousled her hair as she paused, allowing herself a moment of solace, eyes closed, inhaling the invigorating ocean breeze. "If only time could pause, holding me in this brief comfort," Katie mused. But the unyielding progression of time urged her forward. With a sigh, she continued her unhurried journey, eventually arriving at a modest gray building. Inside, the pulsating beat of music greeted her. A contented smile played on her lips as she handed three dollars to the kindly elderly man at the entrance, striding with feigned confidence across the black-and-yellow checkerboard floor toward the beckoning stage.
The band, whose electrifying rock melodies had previously filled the air, was now concluding their performance. Between verses, the lead singer introduced his fellow musicians to the audience, expressing gratitude for their support. As the final chord reverberated, the ensemble bid their farewells and retreated backstage. Lost in her own thoughts – secretly hopeful that Joey would be stood up by his companions tonight, leaving him to spend the entire night alone – Katie's reverie was abruptly interrupted. A middle-aged man stepped into the spotlight, announcing the next act.
To Katie's astonishment, none other than the illustrious Bill Bentley stood before her.
A live performance by Bill had eluded her thus far, her interest never having been fervent enough to pursue such an opportunity. Yet, as the accomplished and charismatic Bill Bentley took the stage, even Katie de Rossi couldn't resist his magnetic charm. A chorus of cheers and applause erupted from the surrounding crowd as Bill slung his guitar over his shoulder.
"Greetings, Fontaine Park," he addressed the audience. "It's a pleasure to be back on familiar ground."
The applause swelled, and though Katie refrained from joining the clapping and shouts of approval, her eyes remained fixated on the enigmatic figure before her. Bill exuded the confidence of a man who had conquered the world, cognizant of his influence yet bearing it with graceful humility. His performance seamlessly blended exuberance and dedication, every note meticulously designed to captivate the audience.
Katie yearned to dial John's number, urging him to come to Fontaine Park, but it was almost half past ten. Even if the kind gentleman at the entrance had allowed her to use his phone, Bill's performance would be nearing its conclusion by the time John arrived. And so, resigned to the moment, Katie surrendered herself to the music, diligently committing every nuance to memory, poised to recount the evening's enchantment to John in vivid detail. Gifted with a sharp memory, she not only cataloged the repertoire of songs performed by Bill and his band but also memorized the make of Bill's guitar – a striking black-and-white Fender Stratocaster – as well as his attire: a faded light blue Levi's jeans, a crisp white undershirt, and sturdy black Doc Marten boots. Atop his head rested a New York Giants baseball cap – a nod to Johnny's favorite football team.
***
Francine: Bill, do you remember that night?
Bill: Do I remember? It was the night I laid eyes on my future wife for the first time! Of course, I remember.
Francine: Would you be willing to share your memories of that night with us?
Bill: Whenever I wasn't on tour, I'd play at that club two or three nights a week. Unity Hall wasn't too far from where I lived. It was our creative playground, a place where the band and I would test new songs and push the boundaries a bit. Performing regularly in front of a smaller audience allows you to stay attuned – that is, unless you're constantly under the influence, a path I rarely ventured into.
Bill Bentley chuckles, and Francine O'Connor can't help but catch his infectious laughter. It's no secret that Bill is one of the few big-name musicians who never fell into the drug scene. He's not much of a drinker, avoids smoking, and even now, stays committed to a healthy lifestyle. "Probably explains why you've maintained such an appealing figure at your age," Francine thinks as she eyes him discreetly.
Bill: The regulars in the audience were familiar faces, and you start recognizing them after a while. But on that particular evening, there was this girl right at the front, someone I'd never seen before in my life, and I have to admit, she had me captivated.
Francine smiles into the camera as the scene transitions, and a snippet of an interview with Tiny Black, Bill's acclaimed Latino saxophonist, is seamlessly woven in.
"I swear on Elvis Presley's guitar, that night is etched in my memory forever. A resounding clap of thunder reverberated through the night, and the very earth beneath us appeared to ignite. It was as if celestial beings descended, casting their radiance, as Billy and Katie locked gazes for the very first time... Nah, just pulling your leg there. But what I do remember is that he seemed a bit distracted. Somewhere amidst Dave's guitar solo, Bill saunters over to me, nods in her direction, and from that point onward, it feels like he's performing the rest of the show just for her. I'll admit, I found it a tad silly – it was as though he was putting in even more effort than usual." And Katie? Tiny chuckles. "Katie seemed like she couldn't care less about the whole spectacle!"
Francine: How old were you back then?
Bill: Thirty-three.
Francine: You were quite the looker in those days, if I may say so.
Bill: If that's meant to be a compliment, I'd say it's not your best one.
Francine: Of course, you're still attractive today!
Bill: Thanks, but back then, I didn't give much thought to my appearance. Anyway, I distinctly remember this young, charming, beautiful lady standing right in front of my stage, gazing at me, and I back at her. Our eyes locked, and I grinned, but she didn't return the favor. In fact, she turned her head, seemingly determined to shrug off my smile. Honestly, it was a bit of a blow to my ego.
***
Her plan had been to stay until the final song, but the performance seemed to stretch indefinitely. With a heavy heart, Katie relinquished her spot near the stage and began her journey home earlier than intended. Uncertain about the bus schedule, she wasn't willing to risk being stranded in Fontaine Park, left with the prospect of sleeping on the beach.
As she approached the exit, the elderly gentleman remained in his seat. "Leaving already?" he inquired with a tinge of sadness. "I have quite a trek ahead of me," Katie responded.
"Where do you live, dear?" he asked with genuine interest.
"In Diamond Meadow," she replied truthfully, sensing no ulterior motives from him.
"Ah, quite a distance indeed. And at this hour! Take care and don't get yourself in any trouble. And do pay us another visit soon!"
"I definitely will," Katie assured, offering a smile before departing Unity Hall.
Bill's disappointment was palpable as he observed her departure. He had initially intended to approach her immediately after his performance, but it appeared that opportunity had slipped his grasp. Watching her navigate through the crowd without glancing back even once, he couldn't help but wonder if she had noticed his smile. An inexplicable vexation gripped him, leaving him puzzled by his own reaction. His intrigue deepened when he saw her conversing with Bob. As his final song reached its conclusion, Bill leaped off the stage and dashed towards the exit, propelled by the ongoing applause from the audience.
"Bob!" Bill called out from a distance. "Bob!"
"Hey Billy, exceptional performance tonight!" the older man greeted warmly.
"Thanks! Who was that girl?" Billy inquired, bending over, hands resting on his knees, drawing breath. Drops of sweat fell from his dark tresses, landing on his forehead, trickling down his cheeks, collecting beneath his chin, and dampening his undershirt.
"What girl?"
"The girl you were chatting with ten minutes ago," you dirty old bastard, Bill added silently, cursing Bob's apparent forgetfulness.
"Billy, the club is teeming with girls. It's a bit hard to keep tabs on each one –"
"Bob! Focus! A girl left the club ten minutes ago, and before she exited, you were talking with her." "The little blonde one, you mean?"
Bill's patience wavered. "Yes!" He gritted his teeth.
"With the curly hair?"
"Dark blue jeans, white T-shirt, blonde curls," Billy elucidated.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, she was here."
"Bob!"
"I don't know her, Billy. I'm sorry!" He shook his head empathetically.
"You were chatting with her!"
"Indeed, I was."
"Are you intentionally driving me to the edge, Bob?" Bill could feel frustration seeping in, wisps of irritation threatening to escape.
"Why?" Bob asked innocently.
"What did you talk about?" Bill's exasperation was palpable. The room seemed to pulse with his irritation. An expectant pause followed, with Bob sifting through his recollections. Meanwhile, Bill's heart raced, a mix of post-performance excitement and impatience.
"It was about her way home," Bob finally recalled. "That she had quite a distance to go."
"Did she mention where she lives?" Bill's hope kindled.
"Diamond Meadow, I believe."
"Thanks, my friend! Not too difficult, was it?" Bill grinned at him.
"But Billy, what's your interest in her?"
"Let's just say that's my concern," Bill replied with a dreamy smile, beginning to stroll back towards the stage.
Without engaging in any type of conversation, Billy left Unity Hall. Opting to forgo a shower, he grabbed his belongings and embarked on the direct path home, walking the four blocks to his abode. Seated on his bed, with his guitar cradled in his arms, inspiration struck, and he began to compose a passionately romantic song.
***
Francine: This story has a hint of love at first sight, akin to an enchanting scene from a vintage Hollywood movie, a dash of...
Bill: Corniness? Believe me, I've pondered many times what in the world happened that night.
Francine: Have you managed to unravel the mystery behind it?
Bill: At the outset, I believe it was spurred by an overpowering desire. It's a sentiment every man is well-acquainted with... that compelling urge when you lay eyes on a girl you absolutely must possess. Intellect and shared interests become secondary concerns, fading into insignificance. What truly matters is the pursuit of closeness. It might sound unvarnished, but it's the unadulterated reality... and that was my own experience as well. I found myself surrounded by a multitude of women, all eager to grant my every wish. Success was my constant companion. Yet, amidst this crowd, one girl remained unfazed by my advances. She saw through my intentions and acknowledged my interest, yet she chose to walk away...
I had harbored a glimmer of hope that perhaps she'd leave a message through Bob, a means for me to reach out to her, but my hopes were in vain. In those moments of uncertainty, you begin to contemplate this woman... why doesn't she share your enthusiasm when you so desire her to? And it was precisely that juncture that ignited my fervor. Her nonchalance presented a challenge, a puzzle to unravel. She remained unmoved by my charm, prompting me to embark on a mission to alter the course of our interaction.
***
Around three in the morning, Katie arrived back home. As she quietly unlocked the door and treaded lightly to her room, a blend of marijuana and alcohol wafted from Joey's room. Katie's disapproving headshake was almost audible, a silent judgment hanging in the air. She secured her own bedroom door as if safeguarding herself from the less-than-stellar pals of her brother. She couldn't help but feel for him. An endless quest to exude coolness and popularity, even when the odds were stacked against him. His obsession with others' opinions was palpable. Yet, Katie was well aware that those very peers would hardly spare her brother a second thought if it weren't for his unrestrained freedom and his dispenser role for alcohol.
Katie flicked off the light and settled onto her bed. Her gaze wandered upward through the window to her left, her mind drifting back to Bill Bentley. Regret lingered for seeing him without Johnny by her side. The performance would have been Johnny's delight. Bentley's songs radiated with raw energy, and Katie felt his emotions as he sang about his confinement and his burning desire to break free, to begin anew somewhere—anywhere but here.
A tender smile curved upon Katie's lips as she rolled over, eyes closing in contentment. Without a doubt, there were worse musings to carry into the realm of slumber.
***
Katie de Rossi holds onto that night's memory with a fond grin, a twinkle in her eyes as she relives her first meeting with her future husband.
Bill's cheeks take on a subtle flush, a sign that he still appreciates his wife's compliments even after years of marriage. Their fingers intertwine as they narrate their tale while John rolls his eyes and chuckles, playfully dramatizing his response to the surge of romance. Katie shoots him an exaggeratedly wicked look, prompting him to put on a more composed demeanor.
Katie: I spent the entire night fantasizing about him. He was so attractive and strong, yet tender and sensitive at the same time.
Francine: What happened next?
Katie: The following day, I called Johnny. By then, I had made up my mind not to mention my nighttime escapade, unsure of how he might react. You know how protective big brothers can be. Still, I called him because I had a plan in mind.
John: She says, "Hey, Johnny, any gigs lined up for the weekend?" So I say, "Yeah, I got a show at this cozy joint just three blocks from my place." And she hits me with, "Count me in!"
I couldn't believe my ears! Do you know how many times I begged my sister to sing with me? I tried for years, convinced she had the talent for it, but all I got was, "I prefer to write, John. I don't want to be in the limelight!" I eventually threw in the towel. And then, out of the blue, she drops that bombshell!
Francine: I bet you were over the moon.
John: Absolutely! We made music together as kids, but she always resisted the stage. That used to bug me big time!
Francine: What sparked this sudden change of heart?
Katie: I couldn't tell you for sure. I watched Billy, saw the joy he was experiencing, and thought, "Hey, I can do that too." I can craft songs... or at least give it a shot. I play the piano and the guitar, and I can sing. My brother is a musician... it all seemed to align somehow. Perhaps the desire was there all along, but I guess I never mustered the courage. Only then did I fully understand that I was afraid to unveil my emotions to the world, to expose what I penned down. And then there was this man out there, doing exactly what I feared for years. He hit the streets and conveyed his observations to the people – and it brought him immense joy.
Francine: So, did you two put on your debut performance the following weekend?
John: You bet we did! Our inaugural gig together. This small-scale joint held about sixty folks, but we had a blast! And for our closing, we belted out Bill Bentley's "Anywhere but Here" – the track that held the number one spot when I was just a thirteen-year-old with my first guitar.
Francine: And you were completely unaware that Bill was in the audience?
Katie: Absolutely clueless!
John: It still blows my mind today, man!
***
The next afternoon, Bill embarked on a journey through the streets without a clear destination in mind. A song had flowed from his pen the previous night, robbing him of precious sleep. The surge of testosterone kept him wide awake, and as dawn broke, an unwavering resolve formed within him to seek out the elusive girl once more. He slipped behind the wheel of his sleek '75 Mustang and guided it toward Diamond Meadow. Yet upon arrival, a wave of uncertainty washed over him, prompting a sudden change of course back to his starting point. Along his homeward route, a roadside poster captured his attention: "Johnny de Rossi live! Saturday, 9 PM, Red Horse Club!" Without a moment's hesitation, Bill made a firm decision to revisit this place again tomorrow.
On Saturday, Bill and his guitarist, Dave, embarked on the twenty-mile journey to Diamond Meadow. Stealthily parking the Mustang behind the high school, they nestled it around the corner from their ultimate destination: the Red Horse Club, where Johnny de Rossi – whoever that dude was – was set to grace the stage. Weaving their way to the backmost nook of the venue, their intention was to seamlessly merge with the crowd, ensuring their presence didn't overshadow the spotlight on Johnny.
After what felt like hours (but were merely thirty minutes), the band finally took the stage, and Bill's expression underwent a breathtaking transformation. His eyes widened, and his heart paused momentarily as he grappled with the surreal sight before him: there she stood, a vision of blonde allure. Clad in denim and cowboy boots, a black top accentuating her curly tresses and crimson lips. With a guitar cradled in her hands, she stood beside a young man – probably none other than Johnny de Rossi himself. His fingers danced a three-count rhythm, igniting the stage. The band erupted into their performance, delivering a two-hour spectacle that set the audience ablaze. Teenage girls swooned over the magnetic Johnny, bedecked in snug leggings and a gleaming gold scarf. Even Bill couldn't deny the boy's undeniable talent.
"Recognize him, don't you?" Dave's voice snapped Bill from his reverie.
"Who?"
"This Johnny. Saw him perform at Unity Hall a few weeks back."
"Sure about that?"
Bill's recollection faltered.
"Absolutely, man! You remember – the one you said had real potential if he wasn't so, well, flamboyant. Just look at him! That face sticks with you!"
Yet, Bill's gaze remained fixated on the unknown blonde, who channeled her soul into renditions of songs by Elvis, Led Zeppelin, and the Beatles. Her performance was drenched in emotion, an experience so compelling that Bill fantasized about stepping onto the stage and stealing her away. Each time her eyes closed and her voice caressed the microphone, a frisson of excitement raced down his spine, the hairs on his neck standing on end. After nearly two hours, the duo vacated the stage, leaving the band alone, none of the three other members particularly remarkable.
The audience clamored for an encore, an appeal promptly answered with Bill's very own composition, "Anywhere but Here." As he watched her breathe life into a song he'd penned, a thrill surged through him. She encapsulated the lyrics precisely as he'd once sung them – a version that never made it onto the album. How had she captured his sentiment so accurately?
A resounding cheer erupted as Johnny de Rossi's voice boomed through the microphone: "Ladies and gentlemen, Katie de Rossi!" Stepping forward, she humbly bowed amidst the raucous applause, and at that moment, Bill finally knew her name.