Leaving Amarillo by Caisey Quinn
Dedication
For my brother, Michael—who filled our home
with music all hours of the day and night.
Epigraph
“Music melts all the separate parts of our bodies together.”
—Ana?s Nin
Prologue
Austin MusicFest—Day 5
IT’S TIMES LIKE THIS, TIMES WHEN I’M ON, GIVING IT MY ALL AS MY bow dances across the strings like it has a mind of its own, that I feel like I can fly. Leave this stage, this crowd—this world even—and ascend to a higher plane.
The deafening kick of Gavin’s drums beats steadily along with my pounding heart while Dallas’s guitar strums a rhythmic river flooding my veins and carrying me across the stage. The sound lifts and holds me while I play my heart out. The music flows around us and into me, lighting every single cell my body is composed of on fire from my toes to my head until I am blazing with the heat of it.
The section of the audience that my eyes can reach is cast in a neon blue glow with hues of red streaking on the periphery. The colors are as vibrant as I feel and would be distracting if I weren’t playing, but I am focused. I am one with my instrument and its rich sound is so much a part of me it’s as if it’s coming from inside my soul instead of from the fiddle on my shoulder.
We take the audience on a fever-dream roller coaster of emotions with our sound. Dallas likes to begin and end on fast-paced songs and weave the slower ones through the middle. “Whiskey Redemption” comes just after a string of reworked R&B hits that had everyone singing along. We play “Ring of Fire” and then my favorite Adele hit. All three of us chime in on the vocals for our version of “Love Runs Out,” playing it like a game of round-robin.
My favorite song is up next and I feel electric and on fire while we play it. It’s a mash-up of a song called “Whataya Want from Me” and another called “Beneath Your Beautiful” that we’ve altered to fit our sound. It’s our most downloaded cover online. Took me forever to get Dallas to agree to it and even longer for the three of us to get the timing right. But the hard work was worth it. I can see it on the faces in the crowd.
We play Dallas’s favorite drinking song, one he wrote himself, and then our set ends with our updated version of “When You Leave Amarillo.” The applause is so loud it vibrates through to my core and the sensation is electrifying. It’s a serious struggle to catch my breath. We bow and thank the largest, most enthusiastic audience we’ve ever played for and escape backstage. I’m not even sure if my feet are touching the ground as we step off the stage.
My brother is immediately swept into a darkened corner by some suit chatting him up, a potential manager probably. But Gavin is right behind me. He’s so close I can practically taste his adrenaline high as acutely as my own.
“That was amazing,” I breathe, turning to face him. “I think it might’ve been better than sex.”
He stops tapping his drumsticks on his knee and pins me with his stare. His hazel gaze darkens as he backs me into the hallway and out of my brother’s line of sight. “That was amazing because you were amazing.”
The dim lights backstage are reflected in his pupils, making him look almost possessed, otherworldly. Somewhere the next act is being introduced and my brother is shaking hands and making a deal that will change the course of the rest of our lives. But here, where I am right now, Gavin Garrison is making love to me with his eyes. And I don’t want him to stop. Ever.
Lowering his head enough that his lips are almost touching mine, he says the words that send my already racing heart into overdrive and halt my ability to form coherent thoughts. “But if you think that was anywhere near better than sex, those pretty boys you’ve been screwing around with have been doing it all wrong.”
Chapter 1
THERE IS A LOT TO BE SAID FOR BREAKUP SEX.
No pressure. No worries about being perfect. Just give me one last orgasm please and thank you and goodbye. Have a nice life, or don’t. Peace out.
Not that I’m an expert or anything. I’ve only had sex with one person. But I’m pretty certain that the last time was the best time.
In Jaggerd McKinley’s case the breakup sex was decent enough that I was now having some firm second thoughts about getting back together just so we could break up again and have one last round. Lord have mercy, the things that boy could do with his hands. Apparently they weren’t just good for working on broken-down cars. He’d been holding out on me in the year that we’d dated.
“Dixie, that’s twice you’ve missed your intro.” My brother’s voice startles me. “Can you join us here, please? This space ain’t free, little sister.”
“My bad.” I feel my face heat from the attention of him and Gavin. Usually it’s Gavin getting distracted and screwing up—typically because some chick has caught his eye or rung one of his drumsticks with the underwear she’s flung onstage—and my brother would be glaring at him.
“You all right?” Gavin eyes me with concern. Last weekend we played at Midnight Rodeo, a nightclub downtown. My now ex-boyfriend had never been very supportive of our band, Leaving Amarillo, and had shown up drunk as Cooter Brown. Gavin and my brother both nearly pummeled him before security could escort him out and it wasn’t pretty.