He greets the crowd nervously. “Hello. I have no idea why I’m up here. But since I am…” For a second, he looks awkward and vulnerable. Then he launches into “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.” He strums out the rhythm with conviction and does his best Freddie Mercury on the vocal. By the time he gets to the second verse, the crowd is totally with him, clapping along, having a great time.

I join them. This is great!

He follows Queen with “A Horse with No Name.” At first, I worry that it’s too ancient and folk-rocky for this crowd, but they’re into it. When he finishes, I see our waitress leaning against a partition, whistling and clapping with the others.

“Thanks,” says Garrett. “I appreciate it.” He adjusts his position on the stool, does a little tuning on the guitar, then fingers the intro to another classic, “The Sound of Silence” by Simon & Garfunkel. At the first chorus, a few people in the crowd start to harmonize, and suddenly I’m in the middle of a roadhouse singalong. Amazing! Better than I could have hoped for.

When Garrett finishes strumming the final chord, he gets the biggest applause yet. I know he hates that I did this to him. But I also know that he loves it.

“I’d like to do one more,” Garrett says. “I dedicate this song to the most brilliant, most resourceful, most diabolical woman in the room tonight.” Damn it. He’s looking right at me. “Brea Cooke—please stand up!”

Hadn’t planned on payback. I half rise from the booth, give a little wave, and sit right back down again.

“Uh-uh,” says Garrett from the stage. “If I’m going to sing about the woman I love, I need her right here beside me.”

You son of a bitch…

The crowd starts chanting: “Brea! Brea! Brea!”

I walk toward him. A server grabs an empty chair and sets it next to Garrett’s stool, right under the spotlight. I step up onto the stage and sit down.

“Hi, Brea,” says Garrett sweetly.

I could kill him right now, but I guess turnabout is fair play. “Hi, Garrett.”

The crowd roars.

Garrett looks down at the guitar strings, then up at me, and then he starts to sing an old Joe Cocker hit. But there’s no rasp in Garrett’s version of “You Are So Beautiful.” He sings it soft and sweet while looking straight into my eyes. “‘You’re everything I hoped for, everything I need…’”

After a few seconds, my embarrassment fades away and it’s just the two of us. In a restaurant full of people, he’s the only one I see.

By the time he gets to the last chorus, tears are running down my cheeks.

CHAPTER
18