We spun around, looking toward the stage where someone else was trying their hand at George Strait. It was better than the last guy, but it still wasn’t great. The kid was pitchy and seemed uncomfortable with the guitar sitting in his lap. Unlike the other, though, you could hear the conviction in his voice.
At least he got more applause than the last guy.
“Yeah, it’s not great,” I agreed.
She glanced back, nudging me with her elbow. “Why don’t you give it a shot?”
“Me?” I asked. “No way. I don’t even have my guitar.”
“The last time I checked, a guitar wasn’t a requirement for using your voice,” Olivia deadpanned, reaching over to snag my bottle and take a sip. She made a face that told me she wasn’t much of a beer drinker. “God, that’s so gross.”
I laughed. “Then why’d you drink it?”
“Because I knew you’d give me some bullshit about doing things you didn’t want to do. I’ve done something I didn’t want to do, so now it’s your turn,” she said, gesturing toward the stage.
“That doesn’t seem fair since I didn’t have a say in it. And I’m sure it’s already full. You have to sign up for these kinds of things.”
“It’s called open mic for a reason,” the bartender interjected. “And anything would be better than this shit.” He jerked his chin toward the woman who looked like she was trying to deep-throat the microphone.
Well, that was disturbing.
“Got a different mic by chance?” I asked, trying and failing to get the image out of my head.
The bartender reached beneath the bar and pulled one free. Iwatched, pulling my brows together. “You just keep them handy like that?”
He snorted. “You’d be surprised how often people get rowdy as shit and break ‘em.”
“Now you have to do it!” Olivia shouted, grabbing my arm. For someone so tiny, she was surprisingly strong. Or maybe it was the alcohol that caused me to stumble ever so slightly. I turned over my shoulder, noting how she covered up her laugh behind her hand.
“You owe me more than a sip of beer,” I said.
She straightened her back, jutting out her chin in a challenge. “If you get up there and sing, I’ll let you name your terms.”
“Is that so?”
“Within reason!” she said quickly. “You have to be reasonable.”
“Just like you’re being right now?”
“We’re at an open mic night, dude. This is kind of what people are here to do,” she deadpanned.
And that was when an idea struck. One she’d probably shoot down immediately, but I’d give it my best shot anyway. “Alright,” I said, heading toward the stage. I was going to check their list of instrumental songs when I noticed a guitar perched by the stage.
Picking it up, I strummed a few chords to check if it was in tune. It was slightly off, but nothing I couldn’t work with. I’d played on worse before, and it wasn’t like there were record executives in the crowd to be nervous about.
I grabbed a stool off to the side and brought it to the center. A spotlight shone down as the half-drunk crowd threw out their song requests. I wasn’t going to listen to any of them, though.
Olivia had been a great and welcome distraction, but there was nothing that could take away my hurt. Not anything in mycontrol, anyway. Music was my solace, though. My therapy. If anything was going to dull the ache, this was it.
“Well, I didn’t plan on doing this tonight, but thanks to a new friend, I’m gonna sing for y’all,” I said, turning on the new mic and switching it out with the other. Olivia hooted and hollered as I took a seat and played the first few notes. It was a slower, acoustic version of Slide by The Goo Goo Dolls.
“Holy shit, the kid can sing!” someone from the crowd drunkenly whispered to one of his friends. The rowdiness settled a bit as they listened. I could feel their eyes on me as I stepped back into a moment in time I could never forget.
For a while, it was our song. Instantly, I was taken back to the summer when we’d turned sixteen. Wild. Carefree. We’d been driving down a back road with the windows down, our hair whipping around us and smiles on our faces. She was mine, and I was hers. The rest was supposed to be history. I guess, in a way, it still was.
I wasn’t ready to accept defeat, but maybe the only way to prove I was the man for her was by focusing on myself. Maybe I needed time to be a bit selfish without worrying about what it would do to the person I loved.
Before I’d even finished, the patrons erupted into a thunderous, albeit offbeat, applause. I looked to the back of the bar where I’d been sitting. Olivia’s fingers flew across the screen of her phone, her tongue peeking out like she was concentrating too hard. When she looked up, there was this sense of wonder on her face that suddenly made me nervous.
