“All right . . . let’s give it up for The Trust!”
Finally . . . my three hours of enduring the musical likings of various bands that generally sucked to had finally paid off . . . The Trust was taking the stage.
Although I had seen them live more times that I care to say, at the risk of sounding like a groupie . . . which I suppose in essence I am, the thrill of seeing them take the stage was breathtaking.
Breathtaking isn’t even the word to describe the next feeling as Jude Matthews stepped up to the microphone and filled my ears with lyrics, melodies, and a general sensuality. Although he never opened his eyes while singing, I knew his almost pitch eyes were filled with the passion of the songs he was singing, the soul he was baring. His black, unkept hair fell over his face he put his all into each note, the intensity breaking through in his voice.
I sighed deeply, watching him with contentment. Never one to be loose with my morals, I was surprised to find myself wishing more than anything to be that guitar he was skillfully running his fingers over. I shook the image that ensued out of my head, and letting myself get lost in Jude’s world.
An hour later I was being shaken away from my utopia by the silence of The Trust leaving the stage. The warm happy feeling of being surrounded by music that spoke to my soul was fading as I realized it was over. I sighed deeply and reached into my pocket for my car keys.
All feelings other than panic left me at the moment as my hand came out empty. I was two hours from home, and being unable to convince anyone to come see The Trust with me again, I was all by my lonesome this night. I frantically began looking around my surrounding area for sight of my car keys. I found nothing, but I continued looking, looking anywhere I had walked that night.
I was retracing my steps from the restroom when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around quickly, jumping slightly. I was so lost in my thoughts of finding my keys and how I would get home if I could not find them that the simple tap scared me.
My initial panic was ungrounded, of course, but my next wave of shock was well needed.
Jude Matthews’ black eyes were looking directly into mine as I fumbled for the words to say. A word, a group of words . . . anything! My mind went into over drive . . . Say something, dammit!
“Hullo,” Jude spoke through a thick English accent, “Looking for something? Might I help?”
With a quick look around, I realized that I was one of the few patrons left in the open air park stadium we were in. I fought for words, feeling them rise in my throat, then pushing them back down in fear that I would say something horribly stupid.
Jude looked intently at me, his dark eyes sparkling. He waited for me to say something, and I waited for something to say.
He looked down at my hands, then back up to my face.
“Your purse? Your keys? Your boyfriend? Help me out here, I need to know what I’m helping you look for.”
“My keys . . . ” I quietly said, still afraid of saying something horribly stupid.
“Okay, “Jude said, smiling, obviously happy he was getting somewhere, “Well first, I’m Jude. And you are . . .?”
“Evelyn . . . Evie.” Dammit! Why couldn’t I just be the clever, eloquent, poised woman I normally am? Why did he have this effect on me?
“Well, Evelyn . . . Evie . . . ”he began, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “Please tell me these are your keys and therefore am your hero.”
He offered his hand out to me, my keys resting in his palm. Without thinking I blurted out, “Oh thank God! Yes! Those are my keys! Even if they weren’t, though, you’d still be my hero.”
I blushed deeply upon saying that, not knowing where it came from. You’d still be my hero? What a way to say I’m madly in love with you.
Jude laughed out loud as he took my hand and placed my keys in my palm, closing my fingers over them.
“Well Evelyn . . . Evie . . . ”he said, still laughing softly, “That’s always good to hear.”
“No . . . what’s always good to hear is you.”
The damn burst.
“Words cannot express how much I adore you and The Trust! Your way with words . . .”
I sighed, realizing there was no stopping myself from gushing, “With every song you write, it seems like you reveal an emotion I didn’t know others felt.”
I was shocked at the fact that Jude began to blush at my praise. Although The Trust was largely an underground group, I assumed he was used to this sort of praise.
“Well,” he began shyly, “I’m . . . I’m glad I’ve touched you.”
I felt myself thinking I wish to his last statement, feeling deeply embarrassed, as if I had said it out loud.
“Well...”he said, clearly uncomfortable with the praise just lavished upon him. I felt horrible. All I wanted to convey how much his work meant to me...how much he meant to me, and I went and created an awkward silence.
So I pushed forth.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Please take it as nothing more than your work means something to someone.”
He seemed to perk up, smiling warmly, the red flush leaving his cheeks.
“Well,”his amazing accent tickled my ears, “Then I can quit this music biz. My goal has been accomplished.”
I laughed politely, realized that I had fixed the awkwardness, but we now had nowhere else to go. I would leave and that would be the end of this. The end of my dream.
“I suppose I better get going, “I said sadly, “I’ve got a two hour drive ahead of me.”
Jude suddenly looked concerned.
“Two hours? But it’s almost 1 as it is! Have you had some coffee?”
Shocked by his concern, I shook my head, “No, no, but I should be fine. I’ve made longer journey’s later at night than this before. I should be fine.”
“No,”he said, strongly,”Come have a cup of coffee at the place I’m staying at before you head out. No use driving this late without caffeine.”
