“You might recognize this next song. Sung originally by the great Brett Young, it recently crossed over into pop music featured in the movie,The Watchman…” The crowd started to get amped up as if knowing he was about to segue into his Grammy-award-winning song. He paused biting his lower lip, shaking his head and smiling at his bandmates, waiting for the noise to die down. “Here’s ‘Forever in Love’…”
Katie almost covered her ears with her hands because the shrieks and clapping of the audience were so loud. It only lasted a moment, the silence in the room immediately so prevalent you could hear a pin drop as the audience hung on every note and every word. The haunting melody was stripped down in the unplugged version Clay played. Moved to tears, Katie listened as he told the story through music about a love that he would never get over. She looked around the room at the mesmerized faces of his fans, tears streaming down more than one person’s face in the crowd. She couldseethe emotions the song conveyed and the profound effect it had on people. It was a captivating experience hearing the song performed by the creator himself. This was a moment she would never forget. It was pure magic.
When Clay strummed the last note in tandem with the haunting, sustained, single note of the fiddle player, it was as if time stood still. His head was bowed as if in worship, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took. Katie couldn’t imagine the exertion his entire body had gone through in conveying the emotions of the incredible story told through music. The roar of the crowd startled her as she watched every man and woman stand, offering Clay a heartfelt ovation. When he looked up and into the crowd, his eyes locked in on hers. She didn’t realize she was on her feet too, clapping with everything she had and nodding with pride, staring back at him through glistening tears. He absolutely took her breath away.
*
Clay had given it his all, putting every emotion and every ounce of energy he had into his songs that night. Looking around at the clapping crowd on their feet, he took in deep breaths through his nose while feeling sweat trickle down his back and cheeks. His eyes locked in on Katie who was nodding and clapping, noticeable tears streaming down her face. Pure joy erupted in his being, knowing that he had moved her through his music. He offered her a genuine smile, thinking to himself she was the most beautiful girl in the room. The trio of musicians stood and bowed, then Clay stood slowly to another deafening eruption of the crowd roaring. Exhausted, he held his hand up and waved. The house lights came on, and the room was abuzz with excitement, audience members swarming the small stage area for autographs. Typically, he didn’t mind meeting fans of his music, happy to sign whatever they shoved into his face. Tonight was different. He was anxious to be with Katie and get her take on all of this.
“Oh, my gawd,” an over-zealous, twenty-something girl vocalized dramatically when it was her turn to have Clay’s attention. “Can I get a selfie with you? Please?”
Clay smiled casually. “Sure.”
The girl immediately got into his personal space, clinging to his waist and leaning her face against his shoulder. He stood stiffly as she held up her phone wrapped in a sparkly pink case and clicked a button several times before kissing him quickly on the cheek. “You’re my favorite country artist, Georgia Clay!”
Embarrassed, Clay shrugged. He had never gotten used to the star-struck fans who fawned all over him. “Thank you so much.”
“She’s right you know.”
Clay looked to his right, his face lighting up with recognition. “Hey man! Good to see you!”
He bear-hugged his friend Buddy Collins. Buddy was a bigwig at the Warner Music Group overseeing new talent in the Nashville division. The huge record label conglomerate was the third largest recording company in the global music industry next to Universal and Sony, its headquarters located in New York City. It humored Clay that he and Buddy had hit it off when one of his very first songs hit the charts several years ago. Buddy was just a good ole boy, the two of them bonding over several fishing trips on his property outside of Nashville in the prestigious Brentwood area. Clay made it very clear from day one that he was not interested in being a touring artist—that he was a songwriter and had no intentions of going out on the road to perform as a solo act. Buddy begrudgingly accepted Clay’s choice, but because they had become such good friends over the years, every so often he would broach the subject, especially after another Georgia Clay song would make it into the top ten.
“How many times do I have to try to convince you that you’re a true country artist, Clay? I mean, did you not see the reaction tonight? Imagine what that would be like in an arena tour!”
Clay laughed, running his hand through his disheveled hair. “And how many times do I need to remind you that I’m not interested in a world tour.”
The two friends laughed, Buddy conceding and shaking his head. He put his hands on his hips as a serious expression crossed his rugged features. “Seriously, that was incredible tonight. You had the entire audience captivated with every note and every word. I’m proud of you.”
Clay blew a puff of air out of his nose and shrugged. “Thanks, man. I enjoy the intimate setting of the Bluebird. It’s a pretty special place.”
Buddy nodded in agreement. “It’s where you were discovered. I get it. Some of the greatest country artists of all time played here. Garth, Taylor… Clay Watkins.”
“Good try, Buddy,” Clay laughed.
“Let me buy you a drink. We need to compare calendars and get us a fishing trip lined up.”
Clay handed off his guitars to one of the tech team. “I got company tonight, bro.”
“Company?”
Clay sheepishly smiled, shoving his hands into his denim pockets. “Yeah. A girl from my old high school in Atlanta drove up to see me.” He looked over at Katie’s table and noticed her chatting with the waitress. “I’m kind of busy tonight.”
Buddy nodded with a smirk on his face. “A girl drove all the way from Atlanta to see you?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, are you gonna introduce me?”
Clay rolled his eyes. “Real quick, then you need to go.”
“Such a bossy country artist,” Buddy teased, making Clay laugh again.
