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need to
know. And it’ll be the best thing I’ve ever done. I promise.”
    The crowd roared. Most of them were glad to
see a hometown boy come back, that he hadn’t gotten too big for his
britches. If only they knew, Katie thought. When he’d first “kicked
the dirt of this town off my boots,” he didn’t want to use his real
name. He used his initials--J. C.--and combined them with Gibson to
represent his favorite guitar. It was all Johnny wanted to be known
as. Over the years, though, he’d come to miss home. His mother
still lived there, and so did his best friend, and he realized that
his fondest memories were formed in Winchester. As he grew up, he
realized it wasn’t so bad. But most of the town had long since
forgotten that his real name was Johnny Church, and most people
addressed him as J. C.
    He finally sat down next to Katie. “So much
for a quiet night out with my friend, huh?” She smiled at him. “We
can get their minds off me if you sing.”
    “No way.” The deejay called up the next
victim, and Katie felt bad for him. No one should have to follow
Johnny, because anyone would pale in comparison to him. He’d been
on a stage for his entire adult life. No one else in that bar had a
chance. Fortunately, the new guy was singing a rap song, so there
was less to compare.
    “So tell me,” Katie said, sipping from her
drink, “why haven’t you ever fronted your bands?”
    “You think I could actually do it?”
    “Yeah.”
    He grinned. “Maybe. But no way. Too much
pressure. Besides, I love the guitar. You know that. And I’m pretty
well known anyway. I mean, how many people think of a guitarist
when they think of a band?” Katie started to shake her head. “Not
many.” He emptied the beer glass in front of him and then filled it
up again, draining the pitcher. “How many guitarists are known by
name? Not many either. But you have them. For every ten nobodies
out there, you have a Randy Rhoads, Angus Young, Steve Vai, Slash,
or Zakk Wylde. Or J. C. Gibson.” He placed the pitcher back on the
table. “So why should I mess up a good thing by hogging the
mike?”
    “Because you’re good at it. You have an
awesome voice.”
    Johnny took another long drink. “You’re just
saying that.”
    “I’m not.”
    “So let’s hear yours.”
    “Uh-uh. No way.”
    “Come on, Katie. I’ve heard you sing. You
have great pipes.”
    Katie laughed. “I do not.”
    “Yes, you do.” He nodded at the cocktail
waitress across the room who came running in less than two minutes
with another pitcher. Great--now his celebrity was going to get him
treated like a king the rest of the night. Not that it was a bad
thing. Johnny wasn’t too demanding, and he didn’t let it get to his
head. “Listen--if you don’t pick a song, I’ll pick one for us that
you’ll have to do with me. Something embarrassing from the
seventies, like ‘Reunited’ by Peaches and Herb. It’d get around
town so fast. Actually, yeah. Let’s do that.”
    “Are you crazy? I live here full time. No
way am I doing that.”
    He slid the karaoke book in front of her. He
tapped on the page covered in plastic. “Then you pick. I’m giving
you ten minutes.”
    She laughed and shook her head, but she
decided to look in earnest. She continued sipping the rum and Coke,
because she knew it would give her a little more courage than she’d
have otherwise. She flipped the page and his finger fell on three
songs by Scathing Vengeance. “See what I mean? I earn residuals
when places like this buy my songs for karaoke. How cool is
that?”
    “And my iPod...”
    He nodded as she continued turning the pages
backwards. “Video games too. It’s crazy.” A few people crowded
around the table, now that they knew Johnny Church was in town.
Katie kept her promise, though, and kept looking.
    His hometown fans insisted that he do one of
his old songs, and the deejay agreed to let him go next. After all,
Johnny was a star and visiting for a short