Tap,tap,tap.
I drove my car as quickly as I could, knowing it was going to be a close call. Michelle had taken it literally when I said not to do anything while I closed down the register and shelved books. She looked at her stupid phone while I did everything. Sure, I told her to do that. But what kind of human being does nothing when they see someone else bustingtheirbutt?
Michelle.
Every story Jenny had ever shared with me seemed much more believable after spending several hours with her. And the way she treated poor Mrs. Bristol. I wasn’t into bodice rippers or anything, but who was I to judge her? She was lonely, and they made herhappy.
Tap,tap,tap.
I couldn’t think about that right now. I had to focus on the songs I’d be playing tonight. I’d practiced several times with the band and had played their songs over and over again when I was home. However, this was the first time I’d played in front of a crowd. It was only teen night at Wild Bill’s, but for a guy who struggled with large groups of people, it was far beyond mycomfortzone.
The sun was just setting as I pulled into the parking lot, still in my black shirt and khaki shorts. Hopefully, the Chucks on my feet would be enough to give me the edge the band wanted to portray. They all thought they were so rockandroll.
Wild Bill’s was infamous in River Valley. It was apparently the best place to get draft beer around here. There was a fight almost every weekend, and it was the place almost everyone went when they finally turned twenty-one. I planned to go anywhere but here when that birthday rolledaround.
The guys played here because Cooper’s uncle owned the place. He insisted that the band keep playing here even though he’d brokenhisarm.
I walked up to the building through the pothole-ridden parking lot. Even the neon sign only showed part of the name of the bar. Instead of sayingWild, it saidil. Did that mean Bill was theillest?
I needed tofocus.
“Hey, man,” Carter said, as I walked in the door. The bouncer stationed himself at the entranced making sure all the underage kids had bright wristbands and X’s on their hands. I was only nineteen, but he must have recognized me because he let merightin.
“Hey, Carter. Did it go okayearlier?”
“We had Cooper play your guitar the best he could. It was freaking hilarious, but everything sounds golden. I’m just glad you made itontime.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I got stuck doing a lot of extra crapatwork.”
“Thatsucks.”
“You have no idea,” I mumbled, but knew he couldn’t hear me over the music that played over the speakers. The music matched the country feel ofthebar.
“We go on in a few minutes. Go make sure everythinglooksokay.”
I ran up to the stage as the guys gathered around talking to each other. I didn’t know Carter very well, but I trusted my neighbor Matt. We’d been neighbors for as long as I could remember. We jammed together casually before he formed this band with the other guys. So, when he said I could trust Carter to take care of my stuff, Ibelievedhim.
I was glad I put my trust in him. All of my gear was set up almost exactly how I liked it. It was a good thing because I didn’t think I could handle any more surprises that night. I spent the next couple minutes fine-tuning my strings and testing mypedals.
Before I knew it, Owen, the lead singer of the band, was holding the microphone and welcomingeveryone.
“Thanks for coming out to Wild Bill’s tonight. I’m Owen, the lead singer of The Band.” Cue the frantic screaming from the girls in the crowd. And some subtle eye-rolling from their newest guitarist. I still couldn’t believe no one cared there was already a band called The Band. They were pretty big in the 60s. I mean, what the hell kind of group played folk-rock and didn’t know all the lyrics to TheWeight?
Focus.
Matt started banging his drumsticks in time to the beat of the song we were about to play, and it was my chance to see if I had what it took to be in a band playing in front of a crowd of maybe fiftypeople.
I spent the next hour concentrating on my playing. My fingers flew across my guitar, and I only missed a couple of notes. Not bad for only a couple weeks of practicing together. Owen practically made love to the microphone as he belted out the lyrics to the songs we played. Some were originals, but most were covers of popularsongs.
They were the crowd favorites. It was easy to tell from my standpoint on the makeshift stage. The cheering was just a little bit louder, the dancing more enthusiastic. And because the lighting wasn’t great, we could see the girls who were in the front row singing along when they knew thewords.
Being on stage was awesome. Exhilarating. When we finished, I already knew it was something I wanted to doagain.
I never wanted to stop. I wanted to play one more song, and then another. It was a good thing I didn’t have any say because I didn’t realize how tired I was until the music quit and I started packing my gear up. I could barely keep my eyes open after mylongday.
I’d just finished wrapping up my cords and shoving them in my backpack when Owen walked up to me. He had the typical lead singer vibe. Tight pants, faded band tee, longish hair that was wet with sweat after our performance. “Great jobtonight,Owen.”
“I know.” His smile was condescending. “Too bad you were as stiff as a statue up here. Maybe you can pretend you are enjoying it a littlenexttime.”
