Final Encore (30 page)
forever.”
“I’m not going anywhere, cowboy,” Ian said as
he relaxed. He lifted his head and covered Bily’s mouth
with his own, kissing him, loving him and hoping his
feelings were being conveyed in the kisses because he
didn’t think he could put them into words.
He was holding on to Bily tightly when he
eventualy slipped out of him. He felt and saw the regret
in Bily’s eye’s at the unavoidable separation. The
trusting way that Bily contentedly relaxed and settled in
beside Ian meant more than he could have put into
words. Ian realized that it would be easier than he’d
thought to trust and build a life with this man, a man
who had done something for him that no one else could
have ever done: brought him love, peace, and security.
THREE years later, after three encores, ten thousand
people at the New Orleans Super Dome were on their
feet and begging for more of hometown boy and
country superstar Bily Eagan. With hat in hand, he took
one last bow, waved, and turned to exit the stage. As
he walked the span of the long stage, he thought about
how much he loved the way performing made him feel.
The energy, the love, the acceptance; but al those
things, he understood, were for the person his record
label and the media had portrayed him to be, not for
him. Would his fans ever get to know the real Bily
Eagan, the way in which he lived his personal life or the
man with which he passionately shared it? That Bily
Eagan, they’d probably never know!
From the wings, Ian admired the man whom he
loved, cherished, and protected. He watched as Bily
went through his final bows, turned, and began to walk
toward him. Bily was rapidly approaching with what
Ian al too wel recognized as the same adrenaline rush
he experienced after every show. He seemed to be
floating on air. As if seeing Bily for the first time, Ian
was again reminded of just how strikingly handsome he
was.
Ian was snapped out of his daydream when Bily
put his left hand on his shoulder and squeezed three
times. Ian instantly knew the sign. It was something
they’d developed as a discreet way to say “I love you”
when they were in the watchful eye of the public.
They exchanged a glance of mutual admiration
when Ian handed Bily a towel and a bottle of water.
Bily stared into Ian’s piercing sea-green eyes, and he
was once again in total awe of this man.
With the crowd stil roaring for more, his band
played an instrumental version of Bily’s latest single and
waited for a sign from Ian as to whether another encore
was in order. Bily asked, “Should I go out one more
time?”
“Are you crazy?” Ian laughed. “Three encores is
more than enough on top of a two and a half hour
show.”
“I know, I know,” Bily said sheepishly. “But it’s
not easy to know when enough is enough. I certainly
don’t want to disappoint these guys.”
“Hel, Bily, this is opening night,” Ian said.
“You’ve got to pace yourself. You’re about to do five
sold-out shows a week for the next six months. And in
ten of those cities, you’ve already convinced the label to
add a second show, to make sure everyone gets in.
“Look, I understand how you feel about
performing. I know the dedication and love you feel for
the people that support you. And I know after me,
performing is your lifeline, but you’ve got to be realistic,
Bily. You can’t kil yourself in the first week.”
Bily smiled. “You’re right, Ian. You’re always
right.”
Ian signaled the band that they were through.
They gave a big finish, and within seconds, the stage
lights were out, the house lights were up, and people
were finaly exiting their seats.
“How did I get so lucky?” Bily asked.
“You won’t think you’re so lucky when I tel you
about tomorrow’s schedule,” Ian replied.
“I’l be the judge of that. Give it to me straight,”
Bily said.
“Okay, you’re on
Good Morning America
, via
the local ABC affiliate, tomorrow morning at seven
thirty. At eight forty-five, you’re being interviewed on
the morning show at WNOE radio, and immediately
folowing that, a photo shoot for the cover of
New
Orleans
magazine. We have a twelve thirty flight
tomorrow afternoon, which puts us in Atlanta by two
o’clock and wil give us a few hours of downtime,
before sound checks and the meet and greet preceding
the show. The crew and the band, on the other hand,
are packing and loading the equipment now and wil be
leaving tonight, and should make it to Philips Arena by
eight a.m.”
“I’m stil lucky,” Bily said as they walked back to
his dressing room with Ian’s arm draped across Bily’s
shoulders, in a very managerial way, laughing and
recounting stories about the night’s performance. Bily
sat on the couch with his feet up and watched as Ian, on
his cel phone, finalized more details for the next show,
and realized that he had everything he ever wanted. His
career would someday fade away, but if he had Ian, he
needed nothing more. They had overcome so much to
get here, and they were never looking back.
About the Author
SCOTTY CADE left Corporate America and twenty-
five years of marketing and public relations behind to
buy an inn & restaurant on the island of Martha’s
Vineyard with his partner of fourteen years.
He started writing stories as soon as he could read, but
only recently for publication. When not at the inn, you
can find him on the bow of his boat writing male/male
romance novels with his Shetland sheepdog Mavis at
his side. Being from the South and a lover of
commitment and fidelity, most of his characters find
their way to long, healthy relationships, however long it
takes them to get there. He believes that in the end, the
boy should always get the boy.
Scotty and his partner are avid boaters and live aboard
their boat, spending the summers on Martha’s Vineyard
and winters in Charleston, SC, and Savannah, GA.
Visit Scotty at http://www.scottycade.com and
Facebook.
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can
contact
him
at
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