LAYLA! & THE UNTOLD STORIES OF LOVE

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐒- chapter sixteen

Jan 24, 1994 (evening)

Staring at the phone I try and imagine the conversation they're having.  Is she asking who the "friend" is who answered the phone?  Maybe James has already told her about his new friend 'Lexi'.  When he returns after a half-hour I act nonchalant and ask, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says reaching for the glass of wine on the end table.  "It's just we're working out custody of James and it's getting a little contentious."

I can tell he's tense so I move closer to him and massage his shoulders.

"Mmmm...that feels great, darling," he says rolling his head forward as I press hard on his spine.

"I know that feels good, because it makes me feel like a rag doll when you do it to me," I say.  He has helped me so much it's gratifying to be able to help him even in just a small way.

"It's so good having you here," he says softly.

"I can't imagine being anyplace else."  Half-turning his head, he smiles and finishes his wine.  Grabbing a pillow, he puts it in my lap and then lays his head on it, stretching out on the sofa.

"It's tough, James is so young and he doesn't understand," he confides.

"He's a really nice little boy....happy.  You must be doing something right."

He looks up and smiles as I run my hands through his hair. "I wasn't around much when Scarlet was young.  I was too busy being on top of the world."

"What's it like up there?"

"The air's thin and it's a little dangerous", he laughs. "We didn't chase fame or anything like that.  We ignored the press really, and they ignored us for as long as they could.  But when you're sitting top of the album charts and drawing 30 to 70,000 people a night.  Fame comes looking for you."

"I can't imagine getting up in front of people to perform, no matter how many."

"Once you're on stage the nerves fade away.  I can't imagine doing what you do, that's life and death."

"Well I've always been, I don't want to say indifferent but, I keep an emotional distance from the situation.  It's funny though, today I felt more connected than I have in the past.  Not sure why."

"Maybe your opening up," he says looking at me thoughtfully.

Smiling I continue to stroke his hair. "Maybe I am."

"Do you want to listen to some music," he asks sitting up.

"Are you going to play for me again?"

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow for that!"

He walks over to the shelf of records and pulls out Muddy Waters, Ricky Nelson, Django Reinhardt and Piper at the Gates of Dawn.  Listening to each, he instinctively plays the guitar parts - that instrument inhabits his soul really. I imagine him as a boy going to the local record store to pick up the latest releases.

"A teen idol? I wouldn't have expected Ricky Nelson in your collection."

"Ah, he was good but it's his guitarist, James Burton, that I listened to as a kid. I'd listen to his records over and over again to learn the guitar parts.  We didn't have tabs or anything like that then, it was just repetitive listening and then trying to play it."

"Can your turntable play 78s?"

"Sure can, why don't you get your record."

I run upstairs and retrieve the record he gave me for my birthday.  The 65-year old recording crackles to life when he puts the needle down.  He turns to me, holding out his arms indicating 'do you want to dance'.  I take his hand and he puts his on my waist pulling me to him.  As we move slowly to the sound of the piano, voice and guitar I put my head on his shoulder