Finding The Music

[Friday]

One: Blake

I don't know how I ended up in the joint again. I had been driving around as was my nightly ritual when I passed the place a little ways out of town. Maybe it was the new lights in the flashing arrow outside that said karoake here. Or the sign hanging above the door 'Open Mike Night: Every Thursday!' It was obvious the place had seen some improvements since the last time I had been in there over a year ago.
A new coat of paint was on the walls, and even a new dance floor was set up in front of the stage. The booths and chairs all had new upholstery, but the stools at the bar were the same.
In fact, it wouldn't suprise me if the corner stool I was sitting on now was the same one I had sat on that fateful night the last time I was here. It had one leg shorter than the others, and wobbled when he shifted his weight. I remembered that the wobble had annoyed me that night too. It was strange how little details stuck with you.
The bartender, who looked vaguely familar, gave him a brisk nod as she noticed him. I waved at her to say not to hurry. I wasn't in a rush. I took in a huge breath and he could have sworn the place hadn't changed in a year. The smell of beer and people was still the same, and while the music was newer the music was still played, the same band was up on stage even.
The place was crowded tonight more so than I remembered it ever being, but it was a Thursday night, and one of the only places left in town to come sing. A girl was up on stage now, with her hair all done up and brand-spanking-new cowboy boots. She had a cheering section of girlfriends, all similiarly dolled up standing off to the side of the stage. He had seen her type a million times before. She was singing some upbeat pop country Taylor Swift song, and while she could hold a tune alright, she would never captivate an audience. This would probably be her first and only time in here. Her daddy had wasted his money on those fancy new boots for one night. I snorted and shook my head before I turned back to stare at the polished wood of the bar.
"What can I get ya?" The bartender asks having finally made it over to me. She had a peculiar look on her face like she was trying to place me.
"Whatever you have on tap ma'am," I say, and I can hear my voice deeper than usual coming out of my mouth. I clear my throat nervousy hoping she wouldn't recognize me.
She nods and then heads down the bar to get my drink, and I dart a quick look around the room. I didn't stand out here by any means. Worn out cowboy boots, faded jeans with a genuine hole in one knee, an old t-shirt I had gotten from a rodeo years ago, all topped off with a an old cowboy hat. I wasn't as shiny as some of the people in here, but I wasn't the worst dressed by far.
The bartender was back by now, and she slides the drink across the bar, and I hand over a few dollars to cover the drink and tip. The money was quickly wisked away into a pocket of her apron, and she was halfway turned around when she flips her long fake red hair back around to stare at me. "Blake Watts!" she says with a snap of her fingers.
I almost flinched at my name and then looked down the bar to make sure no one else had heard, but they hadn't. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I think you're mistaking-"
"Oh buddy, you ain't fooling me. I dated your sorry ass for a year, and while you've filled out some and got a new tattoo I see, you ain't any different boy," she says and I finally know her. Brittney Wilson, who I had dated my senior year of high school. She was a blonde when we had dated, and was much better looking then than she was now. Thankfully, I wasn't getting slapped at this point, I had a bad habit of breaking hearts, especially when I had been younger.
"Now look Brittney," I start as I tugged at the sleeve of my shirt, hiding the edge of the tattoo she had seen, and before I could say anything she had started again.
"Oh, you don't want anyone to know you're here do you?" She darts a look around the place like I had done earlier but no one else had noticed us yet, and I remembered why I had broken up with her. I couldn't get a word in with her around, probably why it had taken me a year to break up with her.
I leaned in close to her across the bar and she unconciously leaned in closer to me. "I would be much obliged if you would keep this between us," I whisper before sitting back on my stool. She nods energetically, and then starts yapping again, but I had already stopped paying attention.

[Friday]

Two: Molly

I didn't realize when that I was holding my breath until I unconciously let it out when I saw that he was still sitting there. The table closest to the dance floor directly opposite of the stage was occupied by a single older man, with salt and peppered hair. He stood apart from the rest of the bar in many ways, the first that he was alone, besides him there was only one other person that was alone, and that was a young man sitting at the bar hunched over his beer. But besides being by himself the older man was not dressed to be at a place like this. Leather sandals, khaki shorts, and a navy blue polo. I watch at he glances at his watch and then around the room. He was obviously anxious about being here.
"Molly, he's not just going to disappear," I hear as a hand is placed on my shoulder and startles me. I turn around to face Tim and reluctantly pull my gaze away from the man.
"You have more faith in him than I do," I say, but allow him to lead me away from opening to the stage where I had been looking out of.
"He's here Molly, he's not gonna pull out now."
I made a face and he he put btoh hands on my shoulders and gave me a good shake. "Molly, don't you think he deserves a chance?"
Deserves a chance my ass, I roll my eyes and Tim just frowns at me. "Fine" I say throwing my arms in the air and effectively getting his hands off my shoulders.
"Now, I left my hat over yonder, you get ready and I'll be right back. We're up next I think," Tim says and then turns away to go find his hat. Since Tim isn't watching I peek my head around the wall one more time just to make sure, but the man is still sitting here. Maybe Tim is right, but I still can't help the nagging feeling that something is wrong.

[Monday]

((write more! lol. you've got me intrigued. lol))

[Friday]

An arm was slung around my shoulder and I turn and see Rich's face close to mine. It doesn't surprise me to see him there so I don't pull away. "Hey Molls, we should get a drink after tonight's performace."
I can smell the cigarette smoke and the shot of tequlia on his breath. It wasn't uncommon for him to ask me out for drinks though, and I've been out with him several times. And he's fun and all, but just not enough for me in the long run.
"Not tonight Rich," I say and slip out from under his arm.
"Aww why not, surely you're not ditching me to hang out with ole' Timmy boy now. You've been hanging out with him way to much for my liking," he says and frowns at me, obviously put off that I've rejected what he takes to be a prime offer.
"If you must know, Tim and I will probably go out for drinks, and he'll even pay for me too." I bat my eye lashes as I say this and flip my long hair over my shoulder.
Rich clutches at his chest and stumbles backwards as if he's been struck in the heart. "Molls you're killing me, how could you ditch me for that loser.What kinda girl wouldn't want me over him?"
"A smart one," Tim says coming up behind Rich. It's easy to see it's all just poking fun because both boys have grins on their faces. But despite that I know just how serious Tim is being too. A smart girl wouldn't pick Rich over Tim, but then again, I'm not sure I knew an girl who would pick Rich over Tim.
"Now, let's go, that's our cue," Tim says gently nudging me towards the stage. And now that I'm not paying attention to Rich I can hear the scattered applause for the young man who was singing before us and could faintly hear the guitarist retuning his guitar.
The young man was brushing past us to go back stage when the lights on stage dimmed. A spotlight was put on the annoucer on the far side. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a treat tonight! Molly Fraser, one of our own loved and talented vocalists takes the stage performing the new hit single from Lady Antebellum, Just A Kiss!"
I had walked carefully out on to the stage as the announcer had called my name still sheided by the darkness on stage. The heels of my boots were barely clicking across the polished wood, there was no way anyone could hear it over the murmer of the crowd. The band started up and I took a deep breath. I had performed on this stage countless times, there was no need to be nervous but tonight I had someone to impress.

[Friday]

Three: Blake


I can't say I noticed much beyond my own glass of beer which Brittney kept refilling but was thankfully too busy to sit and talk to me. When the stage goes dark, that catches my attention. Molly Fraser the announcer says, I can't place it but that name sounds familiar to me. It wasn't a recent thing, she must of been a name from my past. But no, I didn't want to go there, not yet. I had dragged up enough memories from my past tonight to last me another year. I had thought all those memories were locked firmly in my past, but being in here just made me see them again.
Brittney still trying to get back together with me, Grant's guitar polished til it shone, we were all in new clothes for the occasion, it was back to the beginning, there was the flashing lights. Always the flashing lights. I suppose that it was fitting that the beginning I remember the flashing lights, because flashing lights were how it all ended. Sitting in the darkened bar though now made the glare of those ugly memories seem somehow diminished. I take a gulp of the cold beer in my hand. There were so many things I wish I could take back from a year ago. I start to slip into that old panic, I feel the adrenaline start to course through my veins and my heart rate jumps erratically.
The piano starts playing and I am instantly pulled back to the present, my knuckles are white from clenching the bar top. I open and close them, trying to push back those damn flashing lights. I take a deep gulp of air trying to calm my racing pulse but I can still feel the invisible hand pressing over my chest, squeezing everything I am from me.
I want to get up and leave, but I'm rooted to this bar stool like I'm chained to it. And then I hear her.
"Lyin' here with you so close to me, it's hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe..."
Molly Fraser has the most amazing voice I've ever heard in this bar, and that is a fact. They've spotlighted her with all the stage lights still off and it couldn't have been more perfect in my opinion. Lady Antebellum wrote this song, but Molly Fraser owns this song, that I can tell with just her opening verse.
A second spotlight hits the stage and I focus on the guy I can now see up there. He's singing now, but he doesn't have nearly the stage presence as the girl has. His voice isn't as strong as hers, his range isn't very good, but he compliments her better then I could even probably.
They must have sang together for a while, because as the chorus starts they sing together and their tones and pitches match so perfectly that even the fact that she is so much better than him doesn’t seem to matter. I knew talent when I heard it, and Molly had talent everywhere.
"Damn."
I must have said this out loud because Brittney says "What?"
I don't want to deal with her though. "Shut up Brittney," I say as I push off my bar stool no longer desperate to leave and head closer to the stage. I know I've offended her, but I don't care. Because for the first time in a year, I want to sing.
The way Molly's voice echoed through the bar, each note perfect, each tone pure, made me want to run and grab my guitar, and keep playing as long as she would sing. I didn't even realize it but I was now standing close to the stage. I was definitely close enough to notice that not only did Molly have the most beautiful voice I had ever heard, but she is a pretty little thing too.
Now, I have had my share of women and girls alike, but her brown hair seemed to shine with gold under the spotlight, and instead of looking washed out in everything around her she seemed to glow with it all. I knew some people had the natural stage presence, they could just seem to hypnotize the crowd and paint a picture with their words and captivate them all in a single glance. Grant, my brother, had that talent. And so did Molly, hers wasn't as trained as it could be, but with guidance she could blossom and be a star. Why shouldn't I be the one to guide her?
As instantly as I thought this images of tour buses, entourages of people, noises, stages lights, and Molly's voice. Oh her voice, it even invaded my thoughts and private memories like a disease, that's the only thing that made sense. That she had infected me with her perfect voice. For just once, in this last long year, music didn't haunt me.
As lost as I am in the music, I startle back into reality when the last notes fade from the room. Everything is silent for just a moment, and I savor it it. The silence of the awed. And then as suddenly as the silence was there, it disappeared as the crowd erupts around me in applause and whistles. As it was an open mic night this was probably the best they had heard all night, but in my opinion it was the best I had heard in my entire life.
I watch as she smiles and bobs to the crowd, but I can tell as soon as the song ends that something is different. The smile on her face doesn't reach her eyes anymore, and she glances around the room, almost looking for something. I can tell the moment she finds whatever it is she is looking for, because the glow leaves her face completely.
I turn to find what it is, and I'm not surprised to find that it is a who. He stands out from everyone else in his causal, city dress. And even though I don't know this man I am annoyed for Molly Fraser. His back is turned to the stage, one hand holds a phone while the other covers his free ear. Everyone else in the bar is applauding and yelling and having a good time, which they damn well should be. That was the performance of a lifetime, but this man, didn't even care. I unconsciously clench my fists at my sides.
The disappointment Molly is feeling is even more evident when she shoves her mic at the guy who was singing with her, probably her boyfriend, and then practically runs off the stage. I don't even know this girl, and it's crazy but I'm angry for her. I turn back around, but the guy is already headed out the door.
The guy on stage is tight lipped behind his last cheery wave. “Thank y'all that was Molly Fraser, and I'm Timothy! I hope y'all are having a good night, and y'all be sure to treat the rest of the young ones that are performing out here tonight real good. And make sure to tip your waiters and bartenders, have a good night y'all!” He bows and puts the mics on their stands and gives another wave before trotting off the stage himself. They had both rushed out before the crowd had even sat back down or finished applauding.
I catch myself taking a few steps towards the door that leads to backstage, but I remember. I'm not a performer, this girl doesn't even know me, and I have no right going after her. Timothy, was that his name? I'm sure he was going off to comfort her.
The announcer was announcing the next singer, and I almost felt sorry for the little girl. Molly Fraser was a tough act to follow regardless of her speedy exit. I made my way back to the bother not even bothering to pay attention to the kid on stage. My beer was still sitting there half full. I grab it and drain it in one gulp.
“Blake, I get off in an hour, and some of us are coming to my place for a get small get together, you wanna come?” Brittney says leaning over the counter towards me. It offers the intended good look at her boobs, but I ignore it.
“Brittney,” I say, and push my empty mug towards her. “It's over, it's done, It ain't never gonna be Blake and Brittney, I don't know what you're playing at. And stand up straight, no one likes a slut.” I follow the mug with a twenty dollar bill knowing it's more than enough to cover my tab.
Brittney glares at me with those pouty lips of hers, but does have the decency to stand up and cross her arms over her chest. She whips the empty mug off the bar, and the twenty disappears into her apron pocket. She doesn't say anything and just whips around with her too red hair. I nod at the back of her head and watch her bounce over to a group of young men who are all willing to pay her the attention that I wouldn't.
All I know is I need to get out of here. Without a backwards glance, I walk out of the place. I wonder why I even went into the place, but all I want now is to know who Molly Fraser is.

[Friday]

Four: Molly

"Molly, open up!" Tim calls from outside my door, along with persistent banging.
"Go away Tim," I say, I'm not yelling like he is, but I raise my voice a bit to be heard over his pounding. That stupid pounding, it seems to echo the pounding of my blood.
"Molly, just let me in I wanna talk," Tim says as my door knob rattles with him trying to open a locked door.
"There's nothing to say."
"Molly, I'm sure it was something important."
I snort. "More important than your kids?" I ask, even though in my heart I know the answer. A phone call could never be more important than your kids.
Tim is silent for a moment and I know I've won. I can't hear the sigh I know he is making, but even he knows there is only so many chances you can give someone. And my dad had used up all his chances and then some.
"Molls, if you need to talk I'll be in my room."
I know he wants to say more, but I also know there's nothing else he can say. His footsteps recede down the hall, and I hear the door to his bedroom close. My brother doesn't always know when to leave me alone, but I'm glad he took the hint this time.
He's more forgiving then I am, at least where our father is concerned. I'm convinced that it's because he is older, and male, but in any my dad has always seemed to care more about him. In fact that's probably the only reason he came tonight, because Tim was going to be singing with me. I just wanted my dad to look at me for once, and be proud of something I had done.
Who cares anyways? My mom supports me, my brother supports me, and what friends I have left here support me, that's all I need. I decided a long time ago when my dad left when I was five that I didn't need him. Just because I didn't need him, doesn't mean I don't want him. Every girl wants a father in their life, unfortunately the only father I ever really had was Tim, which just isn't the same. Older brother can't replace father.
I pace about my room, fiddling with things. It's already midnight, but that's early for me to be home. Thursday-Saturday the bar is open til 2, and while I just sing there Friday and Saturday nights, I always help out on Thursday which is the open mic karaoke night. Which was tonight, I only sang tonight because my dad insisted that he couldn't make it another night when I was the resident female singer. Mary and Ken, the owners tried to dissuade the resident singers and performers from performing on Thursday nights. Thursday nights were for the public, and Ken thought that having a good singer sing would make the other performers look bad. Which it did, and that made them not want to come. they had made a special exception for me tonight. Which I had been thankful for until my dad had walked out without even listening to me. It had been useless.

[Friday]

I flop down on my bed, thoroughly annoyed with myself for my restless pacing around the room, as well as my restless mind. There's nothing I can do in any case. My phone rings across the room, and I sigh in frustration. Having just decided I needed to sit down, I know have to get up. I unlock my fancy touch screen phone, a gift from my father, with a swipe of my finger. Rich has texted me. Just one word. “Drinks?”
I look at the time, 12:30. That was a good hour and a half before the bars closed. I hadn't been out with Rich in a while, and I could use a good drink tonight. “Oh why not?” I ask and shrug.
“Sure.” I text back, and almost instantly I have a reply back.
“Meet me at the bar.”
I have my keys in my hand and I'm out the door before I even think about it. As I get into my car I can see Tim's head poking through the curtains of his upstairs window, he must have heard me shut the front door. I flash my lights in a goodbye to him, and his head disappears.
I pull out of my driveway and am speeding down the road towards The Cowboy Singers karaoke dance hall and bar. I work there three nights out of the week, and make enough that I don't have to worry about doing anything else. Those three nights, the place is full of people, dancing and singing and having a good ol' time. The rest of the week, the place is a regular old bar, with country music playing through the speakers. The place has done good for itself and even has a kitchen in the back, where during the day time they serve lunch and dinner. It ain't anything grand but it's comfortable and no one goes away not having a good time. Well, except maybe my father.
I'm set on auto pilot driving up there, and I'm pulling in to my usual parking spot under a big oak tree on the far side of the parking lot. Rich's beat up, old, red jeep is already sitting outside, so I shut the doors to my car and head inside. It's cool in contrast to the still heat of the night outside, and Rich sees me instantly. He waves me over to the spot he has on the far end of the bar and I go towards him. He already has a mug of beer waiting for me, as well as a plate of chili cheese fries. My favorite.
I smile genuinely for the first time this night and slide onto the bar stool. “You are amazing,” I say to him as I reach for my 10,000 calorie midnight snack of Mary's chili cheese fries.
“Well I try to be,” Rich says with a grin, “You didn't look too good when you ran out of here earlier, figured you could use it.”
I nodded gratefully mouth too full to say anything. Rich just smiled and waved Brittney over. Brittney is my least favorite bartender we have and of course she would be the one here. She doesn't usually bother me too much, but she is just so dumb, and such a gossip, she can annoy me faster then anyone else if I spend more than five minutes with her.
“So why did you run out of here tonight?”
I was thankfully delayed in answering when Brittney showed up. “Well hey there Molly! Great song tonight! It was super great!”
“Yeah, thanks Brittney,” I say and wonder if she just set a new record on how fast she annoys me.
“So what did you need Rich?” She says turning to completely block me out of the conversation. She's leaning just so that her shirt is tightening across her chest. I roll my eyes. I know Rich saw me by the grin he is trying to suppress.
“Just two shots of the good stuff,” he says and I can hear the laughter in his voice. Brittney has been chasing his tail for who knows how long now. And honestly I'm surprised that he hasn't gone after her himself. I suppose he might be hoping that things work out with us still, but unless Rich has a serious behavior and attitude change, it won't ever work. He's fun to be with and hang out with, but he isn't dating material at least for me.
“Ok!” Brittney says and just the eagerness in her voice grates on my nerves. Maybe I need that shot after all. She comes back all too quickly with the shot glasses filled to the brim. I don't know what it is, and I don't care really. Thankfully she leaves to go annoy someone not me.
“Here's to something,” Rich says and grabs one of the glasses and holds it up.
I laugh and grab my own. “To something,” I agree and click his glass on mine and throw it back. I can feel the slight burn on the back of my throat and then the comforting weight of it as it settles into my belly. I don't drink often, not like Rich does, but it's almost needed tonight.
“So, we've had a brief reprieve and your blood is flowing now, why'd you run out?” I knew it was coming, when Rich wants to know something he will generally keep bugging about it til he knows it.
“Well,” I start, and I don't know if it was just the need to talk or the warmth of what I'm assuming was tequila, but I tell him. “Did you see that guy tonight, that stuck out like a sore thumb?”
“You mean the guy in khakis and flip flops that ordered coke and rum?” I shoot him a look and he shrugs. “Brittney told me.”
“That would be the one” I say with a sigh. Leave it to me dad to stand out in a crowd. “Well that was my father.”
“No way!” Rich exclaims and looks at me in surprise. “I thought your dad was like, a dead beat that didn't do anything, and lived in like... Chicago or something.”
“He does live in Chicago, he came to hear me sing tonight like I've been begging him to for months.”
“So what's got you all riled up?”
“Well before I even finished the song, he was on the phone and walking out the door.” I say with a sigh, not really sure why I'm telling Rich of all people how I feel. I guess when it comes down to it he's easy to talk to, and I know he won't go blabbing about it later. I could have talked to Tim, but he's so biased for my dad it's not even fair. He'll just make me feel guilty for being mad. Rich was a better choice at least tonight. I grab another fry so I can stall talking for just a minute.
“Well, I suppose at least he came,” Rich says obviously at a loss for words himself.
“He only came because, he was in town on business for tomorrow. I had to beg Ken and Mary to let me sing tonight for him, and it was a useless, waste of time. Because he doesn't even care! I mean he only came anyways because I told him Tim was singing with me. Who cares about his daughter, Tim wants him there he has to be a good father to his son. Is it too much for him to just say good job, I'm proud of my little girl! But no! He doesn't even care.” I sit back in my chair surprised at my own outbreak. Apparently Rich is too, because he is just staring at me. I can feel the heat creep into my face and know I'm turning a bright red. It is rare for something to get under my skin, and even rarer for me to say anything about it.
“Well good golly miss Molly,” he says and shakes his head with a smile. “Let it out girl.”
I smile tentatively back at him still shaking his head.
“I don't think I've ever heard you lose your cool, but I'm proud of you,” he says and winks at me as he pats my shoulder. “You need another shot, but I bet you feel better now”
“Oh no no no,” I say, “I don't need another one, I have to drive home later. And actually I do feel better.” Which is funny, because I was really upset and mad and I hadn't meant to get all huffy, but letting it out did make it feel better. It wasn't all bottled up inside, it felt good to say how I actually felt.
Rich must have signaled Brittney or something because another brimming shot glass is set in front of me. I'm about to refuse when Rich stops me. “No, you're taking that shot, I'll take you home, and it's on me tonight so don't worry about it. Think of it has a reward. The night Molly let it all out!”
I think about it for a second, because it is awfully tempting. And true to his word, Rich seems to be serious abut getting me home, there is only one shot glass in front of us. “Oh, what the hell?” I take the glass and throw it back.

[Friday]

Five
Blake

I took me almost a full week to gather the courage to call Ken. And when I did, I wasn't really sure why I was nervous. He had been his same old usual self.
“Hey Ken, this is Blake... Blake Watts.”
“Oh Blake, how have you been son?”
“I've been alright, how bout yourself?”
“Oh same old same old, but you haven't called to chit chat have you?” As usual I was amazed by Ken's perceptiveness. Even over the phone he knew I wanted something.
“Well actually, I was wondering if I could come back.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone, and it was almost like I could hear Ken's thoughts bouncing around his brain, trying to comprehend what I had said and all the implications that came with it. Finally he said, “Are you ready?”
I took a deep breath, “Yes sir, I am.”
“Well son, then you know the drill, you audition Thursday night. If you need the band, get your music to them, it's the same crew, so I'm sure they will be happy to play for you again. I'll send one of the regulars to help you out, I know this ain't your first rodeo son, but you've been out of the game for a year.”
“Thank you sir.”
“No problem son, I told you, you'd always be welcome here. I'll see you tomorrow.”
He had put the phone down before I could say anything else, and I was still amazed at home that went. It was like he hadn't been surprised to hear from me at all. My guess is that he either saw me there the other night, or Brittney was running her mouth. My bet is with Brittney.
But that phone call is what led me to be standing here in front of my mirror trying to figure out if I had made a mistake. I'm jittery and nervous, and I can't sit still. I haven't been this anxious about a performance since my very first one, and then I think I'm worse now. I didn't know what I was getting into then. I know now. My guitar sits in the corner on it's stand, I haven't touched it in a year, and I'm not sure if I want to tonight.
I had talked to John who was the main guitarist for the band last night. I had given him the music, but had told him that I was thinking about just playing it myself. He was happy to hear from me and was excited I was coming back. We used to hang out quiet a bit and jammed together and all sorts of stuff. I think he knew, or could at least imagine what I was going through. But I was glad when he hadn't mentioned any of it.
I smooth my hair down in the mirror, and then run my finger through it unsure of what I want to do with it. I let my hands fall and leave it as it is, kind of messy and unbrushed. I guess it doesn't matter since I'm just gonna put on my hat anyways. I have on my nice jeans tonight, the ones I haven't torn up in the knees. I grab a red, plaid button down shirt off the pile on my bed and pull it on over the t-shirt I have on. I look myself over in the mirror. Slightly pale but dressed the part and I decide that this get up will do. I had tried on all the shirts I thought would work and this was the best choice I had, even though I wasn't completely pleased.
I sigh at myself in the mirror. “What have you gotten yourself into?” I ask my reflection. Unfortunately, he has no answer for me.