The Beautiful Truth

// 54

Once the sun came up, everything seemed to move at a blinding speed. Barton and I had rarely been farther than two feet apart until the show started, and even now, Micki and I watched from a spot just off stage at the Independent.

Barton sounded even better than I'd remembered from the first live show I'd seen him play—although I was still partial to the private performances I'd seen between now and then. Andy McMahon, who had greeted me with a huge smile and a hug, was currently at the tail-end of Jack's Mannequin's encore, banging out Dark Blue on that piano like there was no tomorrow. Andy alone was a show in himself.

Barton had been standing behind me for a while, his arms locked around me, but he'd since been called back to his dressing room. Micki and I had started to follow, but both Alex and Barton warned us to stay put. We didn't protest, but I'm pretty sure it was clear that we didn't appreciate the last minute separation.

"OK, OK, OK..." Andy spoke into his microphone, trying to catch his breath while his band shifted around on the stage behind him. "As you know, this is the first night of the tour, so we've got a little send-off prepared...get your phones out kids, I'm sure this'll be on YouTube by the morning."

I looked at Micki, frowning, and she shrugged. We'd long since given up trying to talk. The speakers were pointed away from us, yes, but being within five feet of them as we were, it was hopeless.

Barton and Alex suddenly emerged from their dressing room. Seth followed behind, toting his bongos under his arm. Barton tossed me a quick smile, and sauntered onstage with the rest of his band. The audience cheered on sight.

I grinned. "Aww, yay," I cheered.

Micki stood up off the crate she'd been sitting on and grabbed my arm. "What're they gonna play?"

I shook my head. "No idea."

"We're about to have us an...Almost Famous moment," Barton rasped into the microphone. "Feel free to join in," he added, smirking at the crowd as he shrugged his guitar back over his shoulder.

"This is for our favorite Penny Lanes out there," Alex said into his microphone, grinning while Andy softly played background music on his piano.

Micki squeezed my arm. "I know what this is."

I looked at her and she was grinning ear to ear. It took me only three notes to know the song Andy just started to play was Tiny Dancer.

Barton's voice sounded a little raspy from singing earlier—and it was sexy as hell on that first verse. Micki was squeezing my arm like a vice grip, and by the time Alex got to the part about 'the boulevard is not that bad' the two of us were singing right along with everyone else. It truly was like the scene from the movie, although I would have given anything to be getting on that bus with them when they were done.

I looked at Micki with wide eyes, still singing and smiling. "I can't believe they got him to sing!" I leaned over and yelled in her ear.

She only grinned wider, and continued singing the song we all knew by heart. They stretched it out as long as they could, God love them. But, there's only so much you can do with a six-minute song, and all too soon, it was over.

"Good night San Francisco!" Andy McMahon announced happily into his microphone.

The song faded out, the house lights went down, and between the time there and when Barton finally closed the distance between us, I looked at Micki. She had tears in her eyes, and that's all I needed to see.

"Damn it, Micki!" I forced out before the lump in my throat caught and I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. "I told you not to do this."

She sniffed and fruitlessly tried to wipe the tears from her eyes with her fingertips. "I'm sorry, Sawyer, I just—"