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Tap. Double-Tap. Tap. Tap.
I open my mouth and sing along to the beat, never chancing a glance in Jimmy’s direction. The words of the song connect with me on such a personal level. It’s about a guy who is in love with a girl that he can never have. To Jimmy, I’m sure these lyrics apply to his latest Hollywood crush, but for me, there’s only one face I see—Avery’s.
When I’m finished, my gaze flicks over to Jimmy. He’s always been a hard one to read, but the smile on his face means one of two things: Either he’s about to bust my balls or he thoroughly approves.
I nervously await his decision either way.
“I like it, Tyler,” he finally says. “It’s all emotional and shit—which is exactly the vibe we always go for. The chicks will really go for it.”
“Thanks,” I answer while relief floods me. “I think you should sing it tomorrow night at our next gig.”
Jimmy shakes his head, and the long hair on his head swishes around his face. “I don’t think so, man.”
“What? Why not? Aren’t you tired of doing nothing but covers? I think if we throw in an original song or two every now and then we can test how well the fans are going to respond to the song. It might be the thing that pushes us to the next level.”
“No. No. What I meant to say was I think you should sing it tomorrow night.”
“Me?” I question. “Why should I sing it? It’s your song.”
“Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean that I should be the one to perform the song. People write songs for other people all the time. You connect with this song on a much deeper level than I do, obviously. It makes you feel something. I could tell that by the expression on your face when you sang it. I wrote the song about a car, not about a woman, so it definitely doesn’t drudge up the same emotion in me as it does you.” He chuckles for a second but then points his finger at me while his gaze grows serious. “You . . . you sing it like you’re in love with a woman. You make it believable and that’s what validates any song.”
I rub the back of my neck, suddenly nervous that Jimmy can see through me so easily, but I know he’s right. Performers have to be able to make their audience believe them. It’s what takes a good song and turns it into something great, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to expose that side of myself to the world.
“I see those wheels turning inside that skull of yours,” Jimmy says. “Don’t overthink this like you do everything else. Just trust me on this one. This song was meant for you to sing. I can feel it. It’s like the stars are perfectly aligning and shit, pointing you to a greater destiny.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You and that fucking destiny talk shit, makes you sound like a fucking hippie.”
He smiles. “If this were the seventies I would most definitely be involved in the whole peace and love movement.”
I push myself out of the chair. “All right. I’ll do it, but I’m playing drums on this one, and we have to get the rest of the guys together and practice that shit. I don’t want to get up in front of a crowd and fucking butcher the first original that we ever do.”
Jimmy grins. “Will do, chief.”
I shake my head as I go back inside the apartment. Perhaps this is a sign that I’m back on the path that I should’ve been on all along. It appears that I’m only supposed to have my music—that there’s no room for love while I’m on this road. I would be thrilled that I’m doing what I set out to do if I could only block out the fact that I may have just sacrificed the love of my life to do it.
I twirl my drumsticks in the air as nerves rock through me. The crowd in this college bar is rowdy tonight.
It makes me nervous to sing any love-related songs because it’s obvious these people are only here to drink and find someone to take home.
We spent all afternoon practicing the original song that Jimmy wrote, and I have to admit after a few hours, we sounded decent—not perfect by far, but definitely decent. Things really came together. I just hope that we don’t make complete assholes out of ourselves and butcher such an amazing song.
Jimmy turns toward me and nods. “Count it off, man. You got this.”
His vote of confidence in me renews my spirit to perform in this crowded bar.
I click my sticks together and kick off the beat. “One . . . two . . . three . . . four!”
The bass drum echoes around the room and I follow up by banging my snare and hi-hat in perfect rhythm. I glance around the room and there are a few heads nodding, and when the other guys join in playing bass and lead guitar, things come together just like they did during our rehearsal.
I lean in toward the microphone and lick my lips before I open my mouth and sing the first verse of the song.
I see you waiting . . . waiting for me.
You don’t know how bad I wish we could be . . .
I close my eyes and picture Avery’s face. It’s not hard for me to picture myself standing in front of her begging for forgiveness because in my mind I’ve pictured it a million times. But no matter how many times I can see the scenario in my head, I know I can never attempt to make it a reality. Getting Avery back will only be a fantasy for me because I’m sure she hates me, and I don’t blame her. I would hate me too if I were her, but it doesn’t change that we weren’t fated to be together. Music is my mistress and I have to learn to give her my entire heart and push Avery out of it.
After making it through all the verses in the song, I sing the closing line and open my eyes when the roar of the crowd erupts in the bar.
