Page 54 of Where the Music Grows

“Level?” I ask, nodding to the makeshift stage.

Derek, the bartender with arms like tree trunks, squints at the little bubble in the level. “Close enough for rock and roll.”

Aggie claps her hands from where she’s been supervising from a barstool. “Looks professional!”

Professional might be pushing it. The stage is basically just a plywood platform, but it’s sturdy, and—most importantly—it gives me some breathing room from the crowds that have been getting a little too close during sets.

I can actually walk around a bit on the thing instead of keeping my ass on the stool.

I step up onto the new stage, my boots thudding against the plywood. It’s solid—no creaks, no give. I bounce a little, testing it. Yeah, this’ll work. I glance over at Derek, who’s watching like he’s expecting me to fall through. Thankfully, it’s only about two feet off the floor. If I fall through or fall off, I’m not going to die.

“Not bad,” I say, grinning.

“Not bad?” he scoffs. “Kid, this is craftsmanship.”

I laugh and take a few steps forward, imagining the weight of my guitar in my hands, the crowd out there in the dark, watching. The stage feels...bigger than it is. Like it’s a gateway to something I can’t quite see yet. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline of building it with my own two hands, but I feel a weird kind of pride swelling in my chest.

I turn in a slow circle, taking it all in. Aggie’s already got lights rigged up—strings of bulbs crisscrossing above the stage. Just Christmas lights—nothing too fancy. It’s still daylight now, but I can picture it at night: the bar packed, the hum of conversation dying down as I step up here, the first chord ringing out. The lights are just enough to highlight me without cooking me.

“Think you can handle all this space?” Aggie teases from her perch at the bar.

I shoot her a look. “Oh, I think I can manage.”

She laughs and takes a sip of her iced tea. “Good. Because tonight’s crowd is gonna be big.”

“Bigger than last night?”

“Bigger than last night,” Aggie confirms with a grin. “Word’s getting around, kid. People are driving in from towns over an hour away. You’re becoming a thing. Mr. Walsh, who owns the hotel in town, told me for the first time in two years he doesn’t have vacancies for the weekend. They’re coming to see you. And my bar.”

I let that sink in as I step down from the stage, brushing sawdust off my jeans. “A thing, huh? That’s...wild.”

“Wild and well-deserved,” she says. “You’ve got talent, Jack. Real talent. And people are starting to notice. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t let it go to your head because I’ll warn you now, I have no problem humbling you.”

I laugh. “Got it.”

A case of nerves develops low in my belly. This is what I wanted, right? To be noticed, to have people care about my music. But it’s happening so fast, and part of me isn’t sure I’m ready for it.

Derek claps me on the shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Don’t overthink it, kid. Just get up there and play. The rest will take care of itself.”

“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile. “You’re right.”

“Break a leg tonight, rockstar,” he says. “I’m expecting big tips at the bar. My wife has her eye on a pair of new shoes. If the tips work out tonight, she’s going to get them and I’m going to get some.”

I crack a grin. “I’ll do my best. Whatever I can to help a guy out.”

I leave the bar to go home and get ready. I got a couple new shirts, nothing fancy, but a little more rockstar. I choose the short-sleeve button-up. It’s a step above the tee but not full-on country.

I need a haircut, but Aggie tells me it’s part of my look. If I was home, my dad would be on my ass to cut it. I kind of like the idea of letting it grow out. A new look for a new me.

I get to the bar at dusk. Aggie has asked me to park in the grocery store parking lot across the street to leave room for her customers. I’m a little nervous when I see the parking lot is already full. My stomach does a weird flip.

I push the buzzer for the back door. Aggie answers it looking a little flustered but she’s wearing a big smile. “You ready?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re going to do great. We’ve got a full house. People are asking about you. I had to burst more than a few ladies’ bubbles. They were thinking they were going to get their hands on you. When I told you them you were still a baby, they were disappointed.”

I flash her a grin. “But I’m a legal baby.”