Page 17 of Echoes of a Southern Song

“She loves it,” I say with a grin.

“Oh, I know. Every young woman in there thinks you’re singing about them or directly to them.”

That makes me laugh. “That’s the trick, right?”

Aggie chuckles, shaking her head. “You’re a charmer, Jack. Just don’t let it go to your head.” She stands, taking her empty plate to the sink. “I’m headed out. I’ll be back this afternoon.”

“Drive safe.”

I finish eating and then quickly rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. After fixing the fan, I shower and sit down to do a little rehearsal. Jinnie is on my mind. Always. I don’t want to think too hard on our situation. This thing has to unfold in its own time. I’m letting Fate handle it.

The Hollow Log is packed by the time I take the stage that night, the air thick with the smell of beer and sweat. I launch into my set with more energy than usual, feeding off the crowd’s rowdy energy. There’s a lot of college guys in the crowd. And they look like they’re on the hunt for trouble. I keep my eye on things just in case a fight breaks out.

Halfway through, I catch sight of a group of women near the front—all dressed up, all watching me with varying degrees of interest. One in particular, a brunette in a tight red dress, keeps licking her lips like I’m the main course.

A year ago, this would’ve been everything I wanted. Proof that I was worth something. That the guys back home—Aiden and his crew—were wrong about me.

Now?

Now I just play harder, pouring everything into the music itself rather than what it can get me.

During my break, I grab a water at the bar. The brunette appears beside me, her perfume wrapping around me and practically putting me in a chokehold. It’s nothing like Jinnie’s fresh and light scents.

“You’re really good,” she purrs, fingers brushing my arm.

“Thanks.” I step back.

She tilts her head, undeterred. “You ever play private parties?”

“Not really my thing.”

Her smile turns knowing. “I could make it worth your while.”

The offer hangs between us, clear as day. And for a second, I hesitate. Not because I want her—but because the old me would’ve said yes without thinking.

The old me was an idiot.

“I’m seeing someone,” I say, softer than I need to.

Her face falls, but she recovers quickly. “Lucky girl.”

“Yeah,” I agree, looking toward the door like Jinnie might walk in any second. “She is.”

The rest of the set flies by, the crowd’s energy is off the charts. When I finish, my shirt’s soaked through, my fingers aching, but it’s the good kind of pain. The kind that means I left everything on the stage.

The brunette’s gone by the time I pack up, her friends with her. Aggie hands me my tip jar, heavier than usual.

“Made a killing tonight,” she says, eyeing me. “Usually that crowd isn’t big on tipping.”

“I’m wiped out,” I say. “That was wild. They weren’t interested in ballads.”

She laughs. “I don’t know where you get the energy, but good job.”

“Thanks, Aggie.”