She pushes two clipboards and two pens toward us. “I was about to pack up for today, but I think I can stay a little longer for you. After all, during this month of love we’re here to help happy couples like you tie the knot on your terms.”
I glance at the forms. “This is legit and not a tourist scam?”
The clerk straightens. “All perfectly legal, sir. It’s is a brand new service we’re trialing for Valentine’s Day. My name’s Sandra and I’m a county clerk from the downtown bureau. I’m fully certified to issue marriage licenses, granted you’re unmarried, both over eighteen and the fee is paid.”
Tally shrinks. “How much is the fee?”
It’s been hard to get paid gigs lately and our wallets have suffered. Any small savings we scraped together before we left Redbird Creek were drained within the firstmonths of our road trip. Most of it was spent on fake IDs so we could even get into dive bars to perform.
“Usually there’s a rush fee for the pop-up, but I’ll waive that for you. So it’ll be $77,” Sandra explains.
Tally shoots me a look that says, ‘We don’t even have that much, do we?’
Grinning, I grab my wallet from my pocket and find the hidden compartment. Secretly, I put away $200 of my money for an emergency. Marrying the love of my life seems like a good reason to spend it.
Tally gasps when I pull out two fifty-dollar bills and hand them to Sandra. “Thank you for waiving the rush fee, ma’am.”
“No worries. You seem like good people.”
Sandra gets the change from a cash box on a side table behind her. Then she walks us through the application process and we give her our real IDs before we fill out the forms.
“You’re here in Vegas for work?” She gestures at our guitar cases leaning against the table.
Tally’s happy expression falters before she catches herself and smiles again. “You could say that we’re traveling musicians. Been on the road for two years. We left home at eighteen.”
“Wow, that must be so exciting!” Sandra says enthusiastically.
“Yeah...” Tally mumbles and stares harder at her form, pretending to have forgotten her own birthday.
My heart aches as I read the disappointment on her face.
We haven’t really talked about it much, but two years of open mic nights in shitty dive bars and afternoon gigs in empty venues have taken a toll on her. I can tell she’s starting to wonder if it’s her fault. If sheain’t good enough.
The truth is, I think it’s me.
I’m holding her back.
We set out to make a name for ourselves, but country duos aren’t popular. We tried targeting venues frequented by talent scouts and were only approached once. The guy promptly asked if Tally could ditch her ‘bad backup vocalist’. I practically had to drag her out of the club before she could smash a bottle over the fella’s head.
I’m the problem.
She’s born to be a star and I’m just a simple man. Lately I’ve been wondering if it’s time to hang up my guitar and leave the limelight to her. I’d be happy to cheer her on from the shadows.
Getting married won’t fix that self doubt inside her or that yearning for the stage, but I want her to know that we’ll always have each other. I’m in this for the long haul, through thick and thin.
“Done,” Tally says and returns the form to Sandra.
I quickly finish my own.
When the clerk hands us our license, her lips purse. “Do you guys have rings for the ceremony?”
Tally and I exchange a glance.
“No, ma’am,” I admit.
Sandra smirks. She palms the little silk pillow with the rings tied on top and offers it to us. “Now you do.”
Tally shakes her head. “But we couldn’t! Aren’t you gonna get in trouble?”
