A/N I've missed all of you so much and I'm so happy to be back! I hope you'll enjoy reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it :)
Prologue
It was one of those things that happen. One of those things that in the moment, you don't realize how big it is or what an impact it will have on your life. Not until it takes control of you and your destiny.
That's how it happened for him.
Back then he was mad at the world and everyone in it. Being angry and combative had become his natural state. He only bothered with school because at 15 he worried he'd get picked up by the cops if he just quit. Then they'd talk to his Dad. Then he'd pay the price.
Yeah, he couldn't have that. And he'd never admit it out loud, but that was the one thing about school that was good, besides the free lunch, it got him away from his old man. Other than that, he hated having to go and this semester he had yet another resentment. He was required to take an arts course and that sucked.
He didn't want anything to do with that shit. Why couldn't he just take an extra shop class or something? But they told him it was a district requirement and he didn't have a choice. He had to pick one, so he picked music. As long as he didn't have to sing and he didn't have to be in the school band maybe he'd survive. And art, well they said in that one you had to study about art history. That didn't sound like it was for him at all.
The first day of class the music teacher, a fellow named Luke Smith, spotted something in him. He recognized the anger, but he also recognized he was a good kid who was in a bad place. The young man was right on the edge and right on the verge of heading down a very self-destructive path.
Luke decided what the kid needed was something to grasp onto, something fun and relatable. Something positive that would keep him engaged and out of trouble. And he needed it fast.
The music teacher thought about it all week, what could he do to help this kid? Thursday night it dawned on him, yeah, it just might work.
So at the end of the first week of school, Friday afternoon, he took the kid aside and said, "How would you like to learn to play the drums? I think you might be good at it, and it might help you with your anger issues."
The young man answered back in his usual angry tone, "I ain't got anger issues."
The teacher just shrugged and said, "Okay, well how about you and I make a deal. You try learning to play the drums this semester. You come in the band room every day at lunch and I'll give up my lunch hour to teach you, I'll even show you how to read music. If you keep it up I'll give you an "A" in the class. The only requirements are you have to show up and you have to try." Why the hell not? It would be an easy "A" and he'd be done with his arts requirement forever.
He went that first day expecting to hate it. He pounded hard on those drums and in spite of himself, he found he liked it. A lot. That's when he got serious about learning. The crazy thing was, the more he played the better he felt. It was like he got rid of some of the pressure that always seemed to be building up inside him, that crazy pressure that made him feel like he could blow at any time.
By the next year, his junior year of high school, he found himself in a garage band with a few other misfits. There was a big redheaded guy named Abe on lead guitar, and Abe's girlfriend Rosita sang backup vocals and played rhythm guitar. There was a fellow on bass guitar named Glenn, his folks owned the local pizza joint and they were generous about feeding the group. And there was Jesus. Jesus was the front man. He had the voice, the looks and the rock star moves.
As for that once angry kid, Daryl Dixon, he played drums.
They called themselves The Southern Kings and right out of high school they started playing real gigs. At first they didn't get paid much. Often they didn't even meet expenses. But they just kept pushing and soon word spread, and within three years they'd become the most popular band in the region. They stayed busy from late spring through early fall playing every County Fair and plenty of the bars.
They paid attention and learned what the people wanted to hear and before long they'd built a huge and very loyal fan base that extended through much of the south. They didn't sign for gigs outside Georgia, Alabama and Tennessee but that didn't matter. People drove from other states like the Carolinas and Florida just to hear them play.
10 years after their junior year and their days of playing in Abe's garage they'd become big local celebrities.
Chapter One - The Band
It was the second week in May and the first county fair of the season. The guys in the band called it their warm up fair. The shake down fair. It was just the first stop on their list of what would be many gigs. By fall they'd feel like they'd been to a million county fairs. Not that anyone was complaining, it's what they did and what they liked.
It had been a couple of months since they'd seen each other but the bandmates went right back to their usual clowning around and b.s'ing . That's what they did while they were busily setting up the stage with their equipment, and jokingly questioning why the hell they didn't have roadies.
Over many years and many fairs, they'd figured out the fastest and most efficient way of setting up and they never strayed from what worked. The last thing they always did was hang their big banner. It spanned the width of the stage and simply read, The Southern Kings.
This early spring day, once the setup was done they got down to real business. They needed to get some practice in before their evening show. They tuned their instruments and played a string of familiar songs. It didn't take too much work, after eight years on the road they had it all pretty much down. The folks that came to see the Kings came to party to the songs they knew, the ones they could dance to, Lynryd Skynyrd, Marshall Tucker, The Allman Brothers and so on. The band gives the crowd what they want because that's what they feed off, the excitement of the crowd.
It's what makes this work for everyone. The Kings energize the crowd and the crowd energizes them.
The Kings have been playing together for so many years it doesn't take them long to get right back in the groove. The only hitch is, where the hell is Rosita? Just as they're wondering that one out loud, here she comes, but things are different. Oh they weren't surprised by the size of her belly, they all knew she was pregnant. She told them a couple of months ago when the group got together to work out their schedule for the season. She said not to worry about it, that she planned to work the whole summer just like usual. The baby wasn't due until late fall.
They also know the baby's Daddy. A fellow named Siddiq they refer to as Mister Tall Dark and Handsome when they tease Rosita. They've seen her with him plenty, and this guy she's walking toward the stage with? Yeah, this guy isn't Siddiq.
The guy seems too old for her, plus Rosita's a firecracker and this dude is downright dull looking. And for shit sake, he's some kind of a priest or something, he's wearing one of those white collars.
It's him who starts talking, introducing himself and laying it out there, "Hi fellas, I'm Gabriel, Rosita's husband. She and I have decided it's in the best interest of her and the baby if she backs away from the band, but we don't want to leave you in a bind. She can work with you for another week while you find a replacement."
Just like that. After ten years together Rosita is pulling the plug.
There's a lot of grumbling and a lot of what-the-fucks, and a lot of what-are-we-supposed-to-do-now kind of talk. Then Abe, who has the distinction of being Rosita's first ex, breaks it down, "We don't need Rosita around to play our music. We proved that just now, and if we want another female singer, they're a dime a dozen."
No one misses the harsh bitterness of his tone and Glenn and Jesus can't figure that out. Shit, he was the one that broke up with her and it's been years ago now. Daryl guesses it's probably because Abe's latest squeeze, Sasha, doesn't like him working with his ex, much less sleeping on the same tour bus with her every night. The pressure has been on him to make a change and this is a big break. He's anxious to see Rosita gone.
Daryl just shrugs, he's sure he'll never understand the games lovers play. He's even more sure he never wants to.
Always the peacekeeper and also the unofficial band spokesman, Glenn takes over. He looks at them all, they nod, he looks at Gabriel, then at Rosita and says, "I agree, it's probably better for you and the baby if you quit. You don't need to give us that week. We'll get by." And that's officially that.
But they can't just blow each other off that easy. It's been 10 years and a lot of experiences together. They're a family. They all end up hugging each other goodbye and Jesus and Rosita both get teary-eyed, and then her and the preacher are on their way.
The boys decide to call it. The stage is set up, they've practiced and if they go back to the bus right now there's still time to eat and shower before showtime.
It's over roast beef sandwiches in the bus that Glenn casually brings it up, "This woman I've been seeing for a couple of months, Maggie? You guys have met her. Anyway, her younger sister is a singer. She's good too, she has a real unique tone. She's young and she's pretty, she'll draw in the guys."
He doesn't happen to mention the only places she's ever performed are in church and at grange hall dances.
The guys bat the idea around for a few minutes while they eat, shrug a few times and decide what the hell, it won't hurt to give her a listen. Only one of them is reluctant. The drummer says, "Why the hell we gotta have some chick singing with us? We sound just as good without one."
They agree with what he says, but Abe smiles and lays the truth on him, "Ya gotta have a little something for the fellas in the crowd to drool over." Then he snorts and adds, "Besides you and Jesus."
Daryl's response is a simple, "Fuck you Red."
Glenn calls Maggie and tells her the deal. Maggie tells him she'll have Beth there to sing for them the next morning. He replies, "Um, yeah, well give us until about noon." He knows they'll all be feeling a little weak in the morning. There's always quite a bit of celebratory beer drinking and partying after the first successful gig of the season.
After the show the boys catch a ride down to the local bar to drink a couple. At first it's fine, the crowd is small and mostly chill. Everyone is minding their own business, and even the folks that recognize them just smile and wave. One guy even sends over cold beers.
They should have known it was coming when Glenn points out the brunette at the bar. She's making calls on her cellphone and acting excited. Yeah, they should have figured she was calling her friends. It happens.
It doesn't take long, maybe 15 minutes and people, mostly young women, start streaming in the place. The band is instantly surrounded by local fans, everyone wants selfies with them. They all get asked and they all go along, it's part of the deal. Jesus gets a lot of the attention, but no one gets more attention than Daryl.
He can't figure that shit out. Quite frankly, neither can the rest of the band. Why don't the chicks go after them that way? Daryl, well, he always looks like he's either half-pissed or like he hasn't slept in a week, he rarely smiles and he's damn sure no kind of smooth talker or sharp dresser.
None of that seems to matter. All the women want a picture with him and most of them also want him. They don't try to hide the fact either. He gets plenty of offers for sexual favors. Some are so crude they even turn Abe's cheeks red.
00
"Are you crazy Maggie? I've seen The Southern Kings at the county fair, TWICE! I'm not the kind of singer who fronts a band like that, or any band. I sing in a choir for gosh sake. Of course I've heard the songs they sing, who hasn't? But geez, I don't know any of them by heart and I've never played them on guitar."
She's pacing the floor and shaking her head, then she stops, crosses her arms and says, "And you've seen those guys, I mean c'mon. Their female singer, Rosita? She's so sexy and I'm nothing like that. There's no way they'd want me, and why would I want to be in that kind of band even if they did?"
Maggie shakes her head, "What happened to my sister? You know the one who said she was tired of being a sweet little country girl? My sister who said she wanted to spread her wings? My sister who told me she wishes she could get a job singing for a living. Have you seen her Beth?"
"Well I said those things after you fed me Peach Schnapps all night. Have you heard me say them since? No." The truth is, Beth is very interested. She's just afraid.
Maggie never says die though, instead she says, "C'mon, you just have to get good at one song." And her eyes get wide when she exclaims, "I know the song you can do! 'Can't You See!' The Kings always sing Marshall Tucker and there's a million videos on YouTube with lyrics and everything. I'll practice with you and it'll be great. C'mon Bethie, you know you want this. The worst thing that can possibly happen is they won't hire you."
"No, the worst thing that can happen is I'll make a complete fool of myself."
Maggie doesn't listen, she turns on the big screen TV, connects to YouTube and they start, "C'mon Beth, move those hips, work that stage, c'mon, show me the sexy."
That's when Beth stops long enough to say, "Maggie, if you don't knock that crap off I'll quit now."
Maggie's hands go to her hips and Beth half expects her to stomp her foot, but what she does is remind her sister, "Beth, I'm trying to help you out. For gosh sake you're not singing at church, you're singing for a crowd that wants to party and have fun. You have to help set the mood."
True.
She practices into the wee hours, she and Maggie get some sleep and the next morning Maggie's taking charge again, "Beth, I keep telling you, it's not church. You're going to have to sex this up a little bit. Show off that cute little body. C'mon."
Beth finds her tightest jeans and complains, "I won't even be able to breathe in these things, how am I going to sing?"
"Those look great on you and that's what counts right now. Where's that cute little belly shirt I got you? The one I'm pretty sure the tags are still on because I know you've never worn it."
Beth puts it on and says, "It looks more like a sports bra than a shirt."
"Oh stop it, it's perfect. Wear your boots too. That will complete the look. My hot little sister singing with the band. I can't wait, c'mon, it's time for hair and makeup."
Beth knows it won't do her any good to object, when Maggie's mind is made up there's no turning back.
An hour later they're on their way. Thank goodness the fair's not on the other end of the state, and the way Maggie drives they arrive at the fairgrounds in just over two hours. Maggie's got to give her name and information to a security guard at the gate, the guard checks the list and tells her where she'll find the band's bus and sends them through.
They roll up to the bus and Glenn is standing out front waiting. He gives Maggie a quick kiss, says Hi to Beth and tells Maggie, "Just park it there next to the bus. The guys are practicing, I'll walk you over."
Maggie and Glenn are holding hands and happily talking, and Beth's stomach is so knotted she's worried she'll double over. And it already feels so warm out. She's afraid she'll sweat off the coat of makeup Maggie plastered on her face. And no one has to tell her what this humidity is going to do to her hair. Oh my gawd, her hair that she so carefully straightened is going to look like a big fuzzball.
She's already planning on crying all the way home.
She hears the band long before they arrive where the stage is set up. They're playing "Sweet Home Alabama" and it's impossible to feel bad when you hear it. The music stops as the trio approaches the stage. Glenn looks all happy and upbeat as he introduces her, "Guys, this is Beth Greene. She's going to sing us a couple of songs, then we'll try singing them together and decide if we think this thing can work."
Then he introduces her to the band, "This is our lead singer, Paul Rovia, but everyone calls him Jesus," he and Beth shake hands and right away she likes him. He has beautiful soulful eyes, a kind smile and he's so nice and welcoming.
Next up, "This little guy here is our lead guitar, Abraham "Abe" Ford. He's loud and obnoxious but a great guitarist and an even better bodyguard."
He is big, in fact he's huge, with red hair, a gigantic mustache and a loud voice, but not mean sounding. He has an almost military bearing when he says, "Well there little one, nice to see ya. I hope you knock this outta the park."
"Thank you, I hope so too," She nervously answers.
It's then the drummer comes walking from the rear of the stage, studying her every step of the way. This pretty little blond is not at all what he expected, and shit, he recognizes her. He wouldn't typically remember some chick from the crowd of a show they did two years ago, but this girl, man she sent out some kind of powerful vibe.
She's seems even smaller than Rosita, and she's much softer looking. It's like an innocence thing. Yeah, that's what it is, she doesn't look like a girl whose been around. She's got pretty blue eyes and a sweet smile and he digs her blond hair. He remembers that hair.
But he doesn't want her here. Not her or any other female. They don't need that kind of complication.
It was different with Rosita, they'd all known each other for years by the time they got the tour bus and everyone started living together in close quarters. But shit, this girl, how are they going to get used to living with some new chick? Yeah well, he knows the other fellas will. They won't even think it's a big deal. But what about him?
She watches the drummer walking toward her and it's like she's mesmerized, she can't take her eyes off of him. He's just so…well, hot. He's got a pigeon-toed gate that somehow manages to look sexy, and it's almost like he glides as he walks toward them. His eyes are a deep crystal blue and his look is so intense she thinks he might burn a hole right through her. He's wearing a sleeveless shirt and oh my gosh, the tattoos, and holy cow those arms, heck those shoulders. He's the whole package and built like nobody's business.
Glenn starts to introduce them, "Beth this guy is…"
She doesn't interrupt. She doesn't say he doesn't need to tell her who the drummer is. Every woman in the south knows who Daryl Dixon is, he's The Heartbreak King.
00
A/N The Heartbreak King? Next chapter we'll hear his take on that. I hope you enjoyed it and that you'll leave a comment. There's a chapter photo on my tumbler blogs gneebee and bethylmethbrick, please check it out. I'll be back next Friday with another chapter of The Heartbreak King, until then stay safe and remember, I love ya large! xo gneebee