Happy June everyone! Honestly, I wasn’t sure summer was coming this year, so this is a pleasant surprise, isn’t it? My kids officially finished “home school” last week, so we’ve now graduated to summer mode at the Hahnstead, which, let’s face it, is exactly the same as school year mode but with more sweat.
NEVERTHELESS, we’ve made it to June, which means MORE THAN MAYBE IS OUT NEXT MONTH! I am so SO excited to share my music nerd love story with you all. I had the super amazing opportunity to listen to the (award winning!!) audiobook version of More Than Maybe this past weekend and friends, it’s STUPID-GOOD. The accents, the vibe, the swoons… Gah. I’m obsessed. In fact, I already preordered my own copy because I love that moment when an audiobook hits your device at midnight like magic and you wake up to a present in your inbox. It’s literal Christmas in July.
Releasing a book in the middle of summer, during a (still) ongoing pandemic has it’s challenges, and my team and I are still working out some of the logistics about virtual events and things. I’m partnering with my local indie bookseller, Nicola’s Books in Ann Arbor for signed copies of MTM, ready to be shipped anywhere in the US. You can preorder from them, here. Last time I checked, they also had two signed copies of my debut You’d Be Mine available as well! A few readers have inquired about signed bookplates. I’m looking into them, but for now, the best way to get a signed copy from me is through Nicolas.
If you’re interested in hosting a virtual event or looking for materials or anything else leading up to the release of More Than Maybe, my publicist, Mary Moates, can be reached via the contact page on my website.
Alright, enough business. I know what you’re all here for, so without further ado, here is a little glimpse into what Fitz Jacoby, Clay’s enigmatic fiddler from You’d Be Mine has been up to lately…
Bet a Fiddle of Gold
I knew the minute I laid eyes on those zero budget YouTube videos, I was gonna marry Kacey Rosewood. Sure, her cousin had vocals to make a man weep (and Jefferson does, don’t let him fool you with that shit about allergies) and Diaz ain’t half bad on those drums of his; but truth is, I barely noticed them. All I could hear—all I could see—was a tiny, hell-on-wheels brunette with limber fingers and sparks in her eyes.
I ended up making a fool out of myself the first time we met in person. Something she hasn’t let me forget for a single minute since. I know. It’s hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the self-secure cowboy with a sloping smile you’ve all grown to love. It could have gone two ways: I could have swaggered up to her, shot her my best devil-may-care grin and told her she was beautiful, or what actually happened—tripping over my own boots, and while trying to jog it off all natural-like, sputtering something along the lines of “I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul, to say you’re gonna marry me.”
Yeah. I said that.
That girl just blinked, a slow smile curling on her pretty mouth, before saying, “Well, my name’s Kacey, and it might be a sin, but I’ll take that bet.”
I wanted the floor to swallow me whole, but also considered proposing for real, on the spot. What nineteen-year-old girl knows Charlie Daniels Band?
Kacey f*cking Rosewood, that’s who.
We’re wrapping on our third summer tour together, and I know we’re young, but when you know you know, and I’ve known for over three years that I don’t want anyone else but her. I’ve even had the ring for a year now. Just carrying it around in case the perfect occasion presents itself. I asked her momma for permission back in Michigan, talked to her pops around that time and endured shoulder-squeezing and threats from the blustery old Vet (Jefferson’s plenty relieved I’ll be joining the two of them in their ‘Nam-stories-over-beers in the back acre from here on out). I talked to our bands last night while Kacey went out with Trina to pick up dinner. I had to, not only did I want to get their blessing (not that I needed it, if they thought to stop me, they could get fucked), but I also needed their help.
That’s because I’m bringing that shit full circle. That’s how I roll. Smooth like butter, bring the swing and sway. History might not be on my side, but this time I have a secret weapon: Fiona. Fiona’s my darling and my fiddle and she’s an extension of me. Has been for decades. There’s no possible way I could fail with her on my side.
Plus, my proposal is gonna make Kacey melt.
So, tonight, when Jefferson and I are wrapping things up with our set and heading into the part of the show where we play a little “name that tune” with Under the Willows, we call the girls and Diaz on stage, and I sneak a single shot of Jack D for courage. Jeff catches me and gives a casual nod of encouragement, while playing it off to the crowd and lining the girls up. The perfect wingman. He reaches behind him to a stage hand and passes Kacey her fiddle, Loretta. She doesn’t blink. We do this occasionally, where we’ll do a little dueling fiddle work for the crowd. Nothing like this, however. To be honest, I’ve been practicing this for weeks, so I don’t make an ass out of myself. Kacey doesn’t need to practice. I’m comfortable enough in my talent to admit she’s better than me. But for this to work, that’s kind of the point.
I step up to a mic stand, ready to cue our drummer, a quiet man named Jackson Colter, who’s put up with a lot of shenanigans from Jefferson and I over the years, but, as a married man, was happy to help out with this surprise. Plus, he and everyone else have a soft spot for Kacey. Impossible not to.
I don’t usually sing, but I can. Technically. I’m not great, but Charlie Daniels did me a favor with a simple song, and I can’t go wrong with two of country music’s best vocalists backing me up. So, I give a wink to Annie, ready with her guitar, and a loaded look to my future best man, fingering a borrowed bass, and take a deep breath before jumping in with the opening chords of The Devil Went Down to Georgia. Behind me, I hear a shriek as I step up to the mic and close my eyes, belting out the lyrical story of Satan challenging a poor country fiddler to see who’s the greatest of all time.
Diaz nudges Kacey forward and I turn to her pulling my bow across my strings with a controlled jerk. I love playing this song. It’s such a high. When we get to the verse where the Devil jumps on a hickory stump and starts the challenge, I jump up on a stage raiser behind me and point my bow at Kacey, pretending to call her out. Annie and Jefferson join in as my band of demons. Kacey openly stares at me, gob-smacked and gorgeous. Her cheeks are a high pink and her eyes are sparkling with the dare. But her smirk—that maddeningly sexy smirk, dancing on her lips, tells me she’s put the pieces together from our disastrous first meeting three years ago to this very moment in front of thousands, under the hot lights.
She presses her lips together, her gaze dipping to take in the way my hips are rocking back and forth as I bend my knees to contain the difficult press of chords bursting from my calloused fingertips. My body is an intense coil of control and precision, but I nearly falter when my eyes meet hers. I’m shook by the pure, sweet lust I see there.
Playing has always been like this for us. It’s why we earned the moniker of the “fiddling fiddlers” from our bandmates. Nothing like it.
When I finish, I hop back down to my mic and wave Kacey over for her turn as “Johnny” the fiddler. She skips over to my side and the excitement of the challenge practically vibrating off her charged limbs. She’s adopted Annie’s preference for bare feet on stage and I’m distracted by the blood red polish on her toes and she presses even closer to me. She leans up to my mic, accepting the challenge with a, “My name’s Johnny…”
I slip back and let her have center stage. I could watch her play all day, every day, for the rest of my life.
It’s honestly all I want. I’m a simple man.
Annie and Jefferson back her up, as she jumps in with her the opening chords of a classic country run. Her bow pulls back and forth with miraculous precision. It’s a work of art, the way her fingertips seem to barely graze the strings, all fire and fury. Kacey’s face beams. She’s having the time of her life. We don’t always get to play to our full extent of ability. Jefferson and Annie are both fair with giving everyone a time to shine on stage and show off our skills, but it’s not a violin concerto these people are paying to see.
When it comes to the crescendo of the song, the Devil concedes that he’s been beat and is supposed to offer up his fiddle to Johnny. My heart thuds in my chest and I swallow hard. Now or never, this is it. When Kacey spins to me, to offer the mic, she doesn’t find me next to her.
Instead, I’m on the ground, on my knees. I could go down on one knee, but let’s be real. I’m on both my knees, begging this woman to share my life. I’ve put down my fiddle and bow and reached into my jeans pocket for the ring. It takes me two chances, my hands are trembling so hard, and by then, the audience has caught on to what I’m doing. Thousands of gasps echo and bounce off the acoustics of the enclosed arena. Kacey’s eyes are as big as half dollars and her fiddle dies off with a whimpering screech. Fiddle and bow hang at her side and are shakily placed on the stage as she falls to her knees in front of me.
“What are you doing?” she asks in a low voice meant only for me.
“I done told you, Kacey Rosewood. I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul that I was gonna marry you.”
She laughs, her eyes glittering with tears in the stage lights.
“And I told you, you magnificent man, I was gonna take that bet.”
“For the rest of our lives?” I ask, feeling a rare burst of vulnerability here on my knees in front of thousands.
“For the rest of our lives and more.”
I slip the ring onto her finger and she presses forward, kissing me hard and long, her hands digging into my hair, my hands slipping into her belt loops.
“Does that mean she said yes?” I hear Jefferson ask over the mic. The crowd hushes to hear my answer, but I can’t bring myself to stop kissing Kacey. I raise a single fist over my head in a celebratory pump.
After another long and breathless moment, she presses against my chest, pulling away with a watery giggle. “Don’t you even try to pretend you had this in mind that first day when we met. Even you aren’t that smooth, Fitz Jacoby.”
“You’ll never prove I didn’t, Girl.”
The End
Missing these guys? Don’t forget You’d Be Mine’s paperback is ALSO out on July 21st and the illustrated cover features both Clay and Annie and made me cry (although, full disclosure, Jefferson Clay often has that affect on me).
A couple of my favorite things, before I go:
What I’m watching: I’ve been binge-viewing Vietnam by Ken Burns on Netflix. It’s gone by the end of the week, so if you’re interested, you better get clicking real quick! My step dad fought in Vietnam, so I’ve been really trying to educate myself. This 10 episode documentary is super impactful and the parallels between the state of our country back then and now is pretty fascinating and also terrible.
What I’m reading: I just finished reading Beach Read by Emily Henry and Date Me, Bryson Keller by Kevin Van Whye. I’ve just started a few 2021 books for blurbs that I can’t shout about just yet, but I’ll be back with thoughts!
What I’m listening to:
Juliana Calm Down by the Dixie Chicks (goodness I can’t wait for this album)
Sound of Silence by Disturbed
Delicate by Taylor Swift
That’s it for me this month! I’ll be back with more next month! Until then, stay safe and stay cool!
Erin
The Charlie Daniels Band, The Devil Went Down to Georgia