Page 45 of Where the Music Grows

“It’s amazing.”

I take a bite of the salad and groan. “Oh man, even better. Aggie, I’m going to gain twenty pounds if you keep feeding me like this.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “You’re a growing boy, Jack. Besides, you’re all muscle—you’ll burn it off in no time.”

I grin, wiping a bit of mayo from the corner of my mouth. “Still, you’re spoiling me. I’m not used to meals like this.”

“Good food is my love language,” she says simply, taking a sip of her tea. “Speaking of which, how’s the music going? That crowd last night seemed to really love you.”

“They did,” I admit, my chest swelling with pride. “It was insane. I didn’t expect that kind of response.”

Aggie nods knowingly. “Told you. You’ve got something special, kid. People are starting to notice.”

“Yeah, but....” I hesitate, poking at my macaroni salad with my fork. “What do I do with that? It’s not like I have a plan or anything. I just play.”

“Plans can come later,” she says with a shrug. “For now, enjoy it. Keep doing what you’re doing. The rest will fall into place when it’s supposed to.”

Her words are reassuring, but there’s a nagging part of me that wants more than just enjoying the moment. I want to chase this feeling, see where it could take me. But for now, I keep that thought to myself.

“I had big dreams once,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“Yep. I had this whole vision—outdoor stage, local bands, food trucks. My bar was going to be the thing that put our little town on the map. I was going to build a business that the young people around here would be able to work at. I wanted them to get some experience instead of having to move to the city. I know a lot of people would love living here if they had a decent job.”

“What happened?”

“Life.” She shrugs. “Turns out, running a small-town bar is enough work without adding festivals and tourists.” A pause. “And the bank didn’t share my vision.”

I glance up. There’s no bitterness in her voice, just quiet acceptance.

“Sorry it didn’t work out,” I say.

Aggie laughs. “Oh, honey, don’t be. The Hollow Log’s exactly what it’s supposed to be. Besides, look at me now—getting famous musicians to play for free.”

“I’m getting paid in sandwiches and plenty of other meals.”

“Well, if you keep bringing in the business, I’m going to have to hire another bartender,” she says. “And I might be able to pay off that loan I took to do repairs last year. I think me making you a few sandwiches is well worth the trade-off.”

“I’m getting lots of experience,” I tell her.

“What about that last song you sang?” she asks. “That was different.”

I grin. “That’s the other side of Jack Hayes. The rebel without a cause fighting to be heard.”

“I think that side of Jack Hayes has stars in his eyes.”

“You’re right.”

“Do you think you’ll stick to that kind of music?”

I shrug, chew, and swallow. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be pigeon-holed. I like it all. I don’t like the idea of being a country star or a rock star. I like music. All of it.”

Aggie nods thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair. “That’s smart. You’ve got range, Jack. Don’t let anyone box you into one thing. The best artists are the ones who can’t be easily labeled.”

I take another bite of the sandwich, savoring the crunch of the bacon. “Yeah, but it’s hard to know where to focus. I feel like I’m all over the place sometimes.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” she says, waving her fork at me. “You’re young. You’ve got time to figure it out. And honestly, the world doesn’t need another cookie-cutter singer. They need someone real, someone who can tell a story and sell it like they mean it.”