obscure forgotten movie of the eighties.
He turned to Buddy. "That's Madonna," he said, surprised, and a little light-headed from his drink.
Buddy grinned. "Is it? Sounds like Tyler to me."
Alec slowly turned on the barstool to find that Buddy was right. Tyler was onstage, sitting on a
stool of his own, under a single spotlight. He was playing a stripped-down version of the Madonna
song—slower, masculine and lush, and in the words of Demarco…owning it.
"I want to get a closer table," Alec said, standing, trance-like. "Would you two like to join me?"
Buddy shook his head, still grinning. "No, sir. You go right ahead. We like it here at the bar."
Alec reached for his margarita, his eyes never leaving the stage. He made his way through the
tables until he found an empty one closer—the haunting melody pulling at him with invisible hands—
and sat.
Tyler was in faded jeans and a plaid flannel shirt—not unlike what he had worn the only other
time Alec had seen him. Cowboy boots and a hat completed the ensemble. His head was down, face
shadowed from the spotlight by the brim, as if avoiding exposure.
Is he shy?Alec wondered.No reason to be. He sounds amazing.
Tyler continued with his head down, now strumming into the second chorus. Not seeing his face
forced Alec to observe Tyler's massive frame, his thick thighs pressing at the seams of denim, the broad shoulders that the spotlight spilled off of like water… and that voice, that deep haunting voice, like nothing he'd ever heard before—such a contrast to the thirty-something-year-old pop song, and yet perfect.
Alec watched Tyler, seeing only him, hearing only the song. Everything else had faded from his
senses.
When Tyler strummed the final chord the tavern was silent. And then the applause began, much
stronger than any before. Alec awoke from his reverie, rising to his feet as if air currents had lifted him unaware. Others in the bar followed suit.
Tyler stood from the stool, sliding it away from the stand before turning back to the audience.
He lifted his hat from his head, partly as a gesture of gratitude, partly as a shield from the stage lights.
He was smiling, and when he saw Alec standing a few tables back, he cocked his head, bemused.
Alec continued clapping strong. He was full-on woozy from the margarita and somewhat
euphoric from the performance.
"Let's have another!" shouted Al.
The people in the bar cheered and Alec thought:Yes.
Tyler used his hat, gesturing for everyone to sit back down, before tossing it on the stool behind him. He was going to stand for this number and Alec was grateful. That body was something to look
at, all decked out in cowboy garb, but what Alec wanted to see was Tyler's face… absent the shadow of the hat brim and fully emoted.
