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I stared after him as he sauntered away. Part of me did want to know what he thought, even if he was just a stranger, although an interesting stranger. I left the club feeling perplexed, yet grateful to have a paying gig. At least, I'd succeeded in the first step of my plan. As for the rest, I'd have to figure that out as I went.
Chapter Two
Being on stage was the only time I felt I had something special to offer. It was an unexpected talent I’d stumbled upon when I was fourteen. My aunt Sandy, who had always been a drifter, had left a bunch of junk in Mama’s attic, and Mama being the clean freak that she was, didn’t store the stuff for long. I remember sitting in a folding lawn chair, bored out of my mind listening to people negotiating lower prices for stuff that was already pretty dirt cheap.
Absently, I reached over and grabbed an old, worn guitar that was propped against the table and began to idly strum. I didn’t realize that I was keeping time with the song on the radio. Until that moment, I’d never had any desire to learn or play music. I could hold a tune but wouldn’t have considered myself a great singer. After a little more playing around, then sneaking off with the guitar, I hid it under my bed. For weeks I carried it out into the woods and played, at first because I'd been hiding it from Mama. When she finally did discover it, the only place I could go was into the woods because she didn’t want to hear my “noise” in the house.
I didn’t know how to read sheet music or the proper names for different chords but soon realized I had a musical ear. With a little time and practice, I could play back most tunes. Aunt Sandy was pissed with Mama for selling her stuff, especially when she learned that all of the profits went to the church, but she did allow me to keep the guitar. It used to belong to an ex-boyfriend so she wasn’t all that attached to it. She also said that I had a natural talent and it encouraged me to continue to learn. Perhaps, in the beginning, I had ambitions of becoming a famous singer like Janis Joplin but realized I didn't have the drive or knowledge to make a serious career out of it. All I wanted to do was play music.
It was how I’d earned money the past couple of years. Traveling from town to town, finding gigs. Jimmy hated it. My ability to earn money by just, “fucking around with a guitar,” burned him up. Sometimes my earnings carried us through while he was hunting for his next “big job”. It wasn’t an easy way to make a living but I was good at it.
23 days and counting...
My first week at the Jumpstart went by in a blur. I needed a whole lot of money and only had thirty days to earn it. I was paid a salary based on the number of people who came in the door on nights I performed. This meant I had to work on self-promotion. There were a few other places I'd go to before my 10 pm set began every night. Places where I knew I could gain an audience and attracting attention wasn't something I was shy about.
****
21 days and counting...
I slammed the pool stick forward and waited for the crack. Walking around the billiard table, I repeated the motion several times, fully aware of the show I was putting on. After taking a swig of my beer, I scanned the room looking for my next target. A group of college kids who looked barely old enough to drink were watching me with rapt attention. Flashing a flirty smile, I placed the beer bottle down, leaned over the table and purposely wiggled my backside as I made another shot. When I stood back up, all four men were crowded around me. By 9:30 pm, I had a group of men following me into the Jumpstart like I was the pied piper.
Feeling in the mood for a bit of Janis, I started my set with ‘Me and Bobby McGee'. I closed my eyes and tapped my foot in time as I sang the words. Ignoring the faces in the crowd always helped my confidence and allowed me to focus on the song. That was the funny thing about confidence. I couldn’t pick and choose what I was confident about. The people closest to me hadn’t been very supportive of me pursuing music but compliments over my looks were endless. I had no problem finding men who were interested in me physically however the rest of me didn't matter all that much.
After the club closed, the employees and a few of the entertainers would occupy the place in the wee hours of the morning drinking and playing pool. A hodgepodge of misfit characters made up the nightly talent; singers, exotic dancers, and comedians. I didn’t have much else to look forward to, so I fell into their routine. The problem was—liquor, men and me never mixed well.
Maybe if I’d spent enough time with a shrink he might tell me that I had “dadd
y issues”. I had a father, he was just gone all the time as an over the road truck driver. He’d be away for weeks at a time and when he was home, he and Mama were constantly at each other’s throats. While she turned to God for solace, Daddy turned to other women. When I was fifteen, he’d stopped making any efforts to come home and started shacking up with a girl in the next town over.
I wasn’t sure why, but as a teenage girl, I soaked up attention from boys, almost like a dying flower in the middle of the hot desert. I knew I was prettier than some of the other girls and used it to my advantage –often. I also always picked the wrong men. It was how I ended up with Jimmy.
Lips smacking against the side of my neck brought me to present. One of the college boys from the bar where I’d been shooting pool earlier was kissing me, and doing an awful job at it. I was sure if I thought about it hard enough I could remember his name. He’d been mildly interesting earlier but then again, they usually didn’t have to be all that smart to get very far with me. The scent of stale cigarette smoke and beer breath reminded me of what and who I was leaving behind—and why.
You don’t have time for this, Annie.
“Hey, um…” I put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back while I searched my memory for his name. “M-miii— “ Michael?
“Manny?”
“Manny. Right.” I replied, relieved that I'd gotten the first letter right. “It’s getting late and I need to go.”
“Okay, sure. I can follow you back to your place.” He said and took a step back to pick up his jacket.
“Uh, well, see. I was just going to go home. Alone.”
“What?” Manny said, “You can’t be serious.” Yep, I could already see the scenario turning badly, so instead of replying I picked up my own jacket and started to make my way to the door.
“What are you, some kind of tease or something?” Manny grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “You were all over me a minute ago and now you’re ready to take off.”
“Let go of me.” I hissed as that all too familiar emotion crept its way in, fear and the intense need to protect myself.
“I’ll do what the fuck I want. You teasing me, bitch?” He growled back. That was it. That was all I needed to hear. Suddenly my fist came up and slammed into his nose. There was a crunching noise followed by a howl of pain before Manny dropped to the ground.
“Fuck!” He roared. “You just broke my fuckin nose, you slut!”
“I told you to let me go.” I snarled, trying hard to control my breathing. I was teetering on the edge of a panic attack and if I didn’t calm down, I was going to end up in a fetal position in the next few seconds. An enormous crowd gathered around me and the man with the blue Chevy Camaro I’d seen a few days ago was jerking Manny off the floor.
“Get the fuck up and get out of here.” The man growled as he shoved Manny around. He was twice the college boy’s size and looked intimidating as hell. Manny's eyes grew wide before nodding his head. A couple of the kid’s buddies scooped him up and moved quickly to the door.
