What a night! Tonight’s show was insane. I mean the energy from the crowd. There was a reason I loved what I did, and tonight just reminded me of that. Being in Chicago I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I mean, I knew I was loved in Nashville and down south, but Chicago was a whole different ball game. It was the big city with expensive homes and fancy cars. I was just some girl who wrote songs about heartbreak and wore rhinestones. But they’d shown up in their thousands, buying every piece of merchandise they could get their hands on and singing along with every single word. It was truly the highest of highs. And one I couldn’t come down from easily.
After ditching my minders each night, which I know wasn’t exactly what I was supposed to do, but once they thought I was safely tucked up in bed in my fancy hotel room, I changed into my normal clothes—clothes that a normal person would wear out on the street and not a dress that showed off more leg than it covered and was sparkly enough you could see it from space—and snuck out.
I don't know if it was the fact that I was going against the rules, doing what I wanted to do rather than what someone told me I had to, but it felt invigorating. Besides, if they wanted me to write my next number one hit, I wasn’t going to find inspiration staring at the beige walls of my very fancy, very expensive hotel room eating room service.
Tugging my cap low, I flicked my braids over my shoulder and nudged open the heavy doors, the jingling of the bells music to my ears.
I don't know why I kept coming back here each night. The staff were downright rude. The food was average at best and at this time of night, even the customers were as sketchy as hell.
Then I saw him.
He lifted his tired head, dark circles under his eyes but when his eyes met mine, he offered me a kind, soft smile.
Each night I’d come in and we’d barely exchanged a handful of words, but I was pretty sure seeing him was the reason I kept coming back.
When he dropped his gaze back to the coffee mug in front of him, my heart sank a little which was confusing as all hell. I wasn’t sure why I felt like this and I didn’t like it. It was unsettling and kinda annoying and I knew I only had two choices. I could go over to my corner booth, stuff my face on pie and ice cream and write some shitty lyrics I’d throw in the trash on my way out, or I could do something about it, pull up my big girl panties, and go and actually have a conversation with the guy.
With the adrenaline from earlier still pumping through my veins, I marched over to where he was sitting, wishing I’d worn something a bit nicer. These ripped jeans and faded Rolling Stones T-shirt weren’t exactly sexy.
“Hi,” I greeted, plastering on my best smile coming to a halt right in front of him.
When he looked up at me, he had these amazing green eyes I couldn’t look away from. There was something in them that had me wanting to know more. Needing to know more. I don't know if it was pain or purely the fact that they were the most fascinating shade of green, so dark almost emerald, I’d ever seen.
“Hi,” he replied back, his now familiar voice deep and raspy.
“Want to join me?” I offered, nodding in the direction of the booth in the corner.
I could’ve asked to sit with him, it would’ve been the easier option, but so far, coming each night, no one had recognized me. No one had stopped and asked for an autograph or for me to smile for a selfie. No one had interrupted me. And no one had paid me any attention, not really anyway, and it was exactly what I needed.
“Join you?”
“For pie?” I scrambled.
“You want me to join you for pie?” he confirmed, stringing it altogether.
“Sure! Why not?” I asked, trying to sound casual and not like the swarm of butterflies in my belly were all taking flight.
“Depends,” he answered with a crooked grin and I couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles around his eyes.
“On?”
“What flavor pie are you offering?”
That made me laugh. It hadn’t been what I was expecting and I liked it. I liked it a lot if I was being honest.
“You’ll have to join me to find out,” I answered sassily before making my way over to the booth, feeling his gaze on my ass as I went.
The waitress, one more polite—and who seemed to actually at least half want this job—sauntered over to take my order. I glanced over at the guy who’d piqued my interest, wondering if he was going to leave me hanging.
“You know what? It doesn’t even matter,” I announced before ordering three different types of pie. Hopefully he came over and helped me eat them, but if not that’s okay too. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d been forced to eat my feelings, and I was pretty certain it wouldn’t be the last.
As soon as she walked away, I grabbed some napkins from the dispenser and the pen from my pocket and started scribbling. Doodling really.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” the waitress said, sliding the plates with huge hunks of pie and servings of whipped cream and ice cream onto the table.
“Thanks.”
“Can I get you anything else?” she asked, eyeing me weirdly. It was like she recognized my face but couldn’t place me. I got that a lot. Normally I’d fill in the blanks, but tonight I was enjoying my anonymity.
