Chapter 3: Back Home

####

"That was a great show, Deacon. Man, I think I'd forgotten how talented you are. By the end of your set, you could hear a pin drop in there!"

Deacon sat across from Coleman, in their usual booth at the diner. He shook his head. "Thanks. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel damn good to be playin' again." Deacon paused. "Real good, " he repeated, smiling. Coleman nodded back. "I feel good for the first time in a long, long time."

####

He'd been a nervous wreck earlier that afternoon, thinking about walking into the Bluebird for the first time in over a year. There was so much going through his mind, that he was overwhelmed.

First, there was the issue of staying away from the booze. He was so used to the scene, and booze, smoking, and music went hand in hand. Coleman was planning to be there by show time, but Deacon needed to get there early to set up and that's when the drinking usually started, mostly as a way to calm his nerves.

Then there were the memories. The last time he was at the Bluebird he was playing with Rayna. He wasn't quite sure how he would overcome the emptiness he'd been feeling since the last time he watched her walk away.

As he opened the door a rush of emotions surged through his body. He could hear Rayna's voice calling him, 'Babe, come on now, tell me you haven't been drinking again.' He could smell her kisses, her skin...

'Hey, Deacon, you made it," Billy greeted Deacon as he opened the door.

"I said I'd be here, so here I am," Deacon responded, a little perturbed.

"Well, you know, son, that's not how it's always been,' Billy answered, in a voice that suggested he was sorry he'd brought it up. Deacon just nodded awkwardly, in acknowledgement.

"You want some help with the equipment?" Deacon just had a few speakers for the acoustic set he'd planned.

"Sure, Billy, if you want to help me pull some things off the truck, would be great."

Billy put the last speaker in place. "Well, all right, I think you're set." Deacon pulled over the stool and picked up his guitar.

"Thanks, Billie. I'll just warm up for a few minutes, then. Appreciate the help."

Billy looked over at Deacon. "You know, everyone's pretty excited to hear you play tonight."

Deacon responded with disbelief. "Now, common Billie, you know if people are excited, they're just curious to see if this drunk here has his act together. I'm sure my last stint caused quite a commotion."

"Well, that may be true, but you've got more fans than you think. You might be surprised."

Billy was right, of course. The booze hadn't just clouded Deacon's judgment, it had kept Deacon from realizing how good he really was and how many fans he actually had.

Deacon just laughed. 'You've always been too good to me, Billy." Billy just smiled, shook his head, and walked back to the kitchen to check on things.

The fact that this performance was a make-or-break moment, that people would be watching to see if he could pull this off, hadn't been lost on Deacon, all the same. That's why he'd spent so much time choosing the songs and the song order for his set, and why he'd spent so much time practicing. He had a vision of exactly what he wanted the audience to experience. That's why he left his newest song almost to the end.

He felt good about his music. After all he'd been through, music was truly his saving grace. He'd let all of that pain flow right through his veins and seep from his fingers into that guitar. Since rehab, there'd been a part of him that was trapped. He'd always had Rayna to share his ideas with and test his songs, but now he was on his own. His music needed an audience- just like a painting needs to be hung on a wall, without someone else experiencing his songs, they didn't mean very much.

As he started strumming, Tommy came in to set up the bar. "Deacon, buddy, good to see you, Man!" Deacon walked over and they shook hands. "You son-of-a-bitch, Deacon, I thought I might never see you again after that last show."

Deacon laughed. "Yeah, I can imagine. Bet it hasn't been the same here without me."

"You can say that again!" They both laughed. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. I'm nervous as shit about tonight though."

"You need something to calm you down?" Tommy offered.

"Tommy, you & I go way back, so I can count on you, right?" Tommy nodded, "Sure, Deacon."

"I don't care how nasty I get, or how many hot girls wanna send me over shots of whiskey- I don't want any booze comin' my way, you get that?" Tommy snickered a bit and Deacon grasped his arm.

"No, Tommy, I'm not jokin and I need your word on this. I can count on you, can't I?' Deacon looked at Tommy with an intensity that almost scared him. "I'm not goin down that road again. Never."

"All right, all right, Deacon. I understand, man. I get it. You got my word."

"Okay. Now I've got one less thing to worry about tonight." Deacon rubbed his face and took a look over the room. "Shoot, I was gonna warm up but I'm beatin' a dead horse. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I'm gonna grab a bite to eat. I'll be back before my set."

###

When Deacon came back, Billy was right. It wasn't packed like a Thursday night, but for a Wednesday, this was a solid crowd. "A bunch of voyeurs," he thought to himself, and laughed a little while shaking his head. The kid playing before him was about to start a short set. Deacon laid low in the back and took in the scene.

When he stepped up onto the stage and looked out at the crowd, he was surprised by the adrenaline rush. He'd almost forgotten how that felt. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was excited to play.

"Hi, I'm Deacon Claybourne. It's good to be back at the Bluebird. Hope you have as much fun as I'm about to. We'll start off this set with a little Waylon Jennings. That okay with everyone?" A few smiles flashed his way and he was off.

He started the set with some fun honky-tonk, then slowly moved to some of his favorite Merle Haggard and Kris Kristofferson numbers. Finally, he was ready to play his new song-the one he'd written just for this moment.

Looking out, he saw Coleman near the back door and Billy by the side of the bar. "One thing I've come to realize over the past year, is that 'family' doesn't only mean the people who raised you. True family are the ones who stick by you through the good times and the bad, who believe in you even when you don't believe in yourself. I see a few of you here. You know who you are. This song's for you."

When life gets the best of me

I just close my eyes and see…

Fireflies dancing in the yard

Under a blanket of stars

Sound of that rusty stringed guitar playing songs that we know

And all that I have to do,

Is think one little thought of you,

And I'm back home.

I'm right back home.

He strummed the last chord and the applause from the crowd almost choked him up. For a minute, he got caught up in the thought of Rayna, of those memories of the simpler days, when it felt like it was just the two of them against the world. The whistles from the crowd quickly brought him back.

"Thank you, thank you," Deacon responded. "Well, let's end the night with a classic. Can't have a real country music show without some Hank Williams, now can we?" And to more applause he started his own rendition of Lovesick Blues.

After the set, a few people came by to thank Deacon for a great show. Then the crowd emptied out pretty quickly. Billy came out to catch Deacon before he left for the night.

"You keep singing like that, and you'll get your Thursday night spot back."

'Thanks, Billy. You are like family, you do know that, don't you? I know you didn't have to give me another chance…"

"All right now," Billy interrupted, with one arm on Deacon's shoulder. "You just stay healthy. See you same time next week?"

"You bet." With a big smile on his face, Deacon picked up his guitar, loaded the speakers, and made his way to the diner to meet Coleman. It was a good night.