“I’m a little nervous, y’all,” she said. “Can I get a guitar? Is that possible? And a chair?”
“We don’t have all that, this ain’t ya concert, beautiful. Pretty girls always got requests, don’t they?” the MC said in his own microphone, putting her on the spot and drawing a laugh from the crowd. Charlie was sure she turned red. She was so embarrassed.
“Get her whatever she wants.”
She looked to the back of the room where the voice had come from.
Demi stood at the door, staring at her. He wore different clothes. This time, a black Nike sweatsuit and a black Gucci hat. He was so damn rugged.
When she was handed the guitar, it felt like someone had cloaked her in comfort.
“You got it, baby girl, we gonna follow you wherever you go. We got a real musician on the stage,” the lead bass guitarist of the band said, making Charlie feel even better.
She nodded and began playing a simple chord.
“Y’all want to do me a favor and lower your phones? All I see are lights. I want to see y’all,” she whispered. Demi stood, stone-faced, and she locked in on him. “When my mom was alive, she told me to focus on one person in the room. One face that makes you comfortable, and sing to that one person, no matter how nervous you are.” Charlie found Demi. Despite her anger, he was the one person who she knew would appreciate her set. Her heart raced as anxiety put a tremble in her voice. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath as she began to sing. H.E.R., because she had sung the song a hundred times and it was one that she had mastered, nerves or not.
“Set the toneee when it’s just me
And you alone, never lonely-
In the room, breathing slowwwly”
Charlie’s long nails tapped the wood of the guitar, creating a mini baseline as she played simultaneously. H.E.R was always a good choice. Start small. She sat on that wooden chair, one spotlight shining on her, strumming the simplest chords as she went into the chorus.
“I feel so comfortable with youuuuuu.”
Then her eyes closed, and he was there too. Usually, her mom joined her on stage, when she was nervous. She escaped inside her head and her mom would always show up. Tonight, it was Demi.
“Lay your head on my pillow say wooo hoooo,” she sang.
The band joined her as Charlie went into a medley, changing the song effortlessly, skillfully as the guitar led the other musicians in the room naturally.
Ari Lennox.
“I’ve been smok-ing pur-ple azeeee, oooooo-
-all to forget abouttt youuu.”
Charlie was a vibe. Whenever she got out of her head and got in her bag, pulling notes from her heart, she shined. She stood and put the guitar strap around her body so she could focus on the microphone stand, gripping it with both hands.
“Don’t date these niggas ‘til you’re forty-threeee.”
Charlie’s fingers found her strings again and she changed the song. Frank Ocean.
Charlie felt like no one else was in the room. There was an invisible chain that connected them, had to be because she felt him pulling her to him and it took everything she had to stay on the stage.
She was so mad at him, hurt by the rejection of it all, embarrassed by his dismissiveness. She had opened her aurato him, let him bathe in her waters. Charlie had put her best shit down on that nigga and he had the nerve to not call her afterward. When she finished the song, the crowd roared in applause and the bass guitarist stood to give her a hug.
“Thank, y’all,” she said before rushing off the stage. All the confidence that had filled her had deflated as soon as the music stopped. Stassi was still on her feet when Charlie approached the table.
“I secure the bag?” Charlie asked.
Day’s brows were lifted. He was stunned. Amazed. “Fire. I don’t think I’ve ever heard nobody sing like that. Bag secured. I’m a man of my word; but for real for real, I got a record deal for you tonight if you with it.”
“Thanks, but no. That’s not even close to what I want to do,” Charlie said.
“It could be if you stop letting other people control your life,” Stassi said, shrugging as she tried to urge Charlie to take the opportunity.
