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“Well, hot damn,” the bartender says when the last note fades. “You can sing.”
Everyone in the bar claps and whistles.
“Thank you,” I whisper, blushing.
“What’s your name, hon?”
“Raven. Um, Raven Calloway.”
“Raven, I’m Tawnie McAllister. I own the place.” She extends one hand over the bar for me to shake.
I take it, giving it a firm shake like my father taught me. “It’s nice to meet you, Tawnie,” I say. “Your bar is lovely.”
She snorts. “This place passed lovely thirty years ago, honey. There’s more beer and sweat in these floorboards than hardwood. But the bar is mine and the tourists love it, so I’m not complaining. You sing professionally, Raven?”
“I’m a voice student at Berklee in Boston.”
She nods. “Are you going to be on the island long?”
“I’ll be here for the summer at least. I’m not sure about after that,” I say carefully.
“We have a talent test coming up on Friday night,” she says. “You perform and we pass the bucket. The acts that pull in the most in tips get added to the schedule. You interested?”
“Yes! Definitely.”
She grins at me. “You sing like you just did, and I don’t think you’ll have a problem securing your spot in the rotation. For weekdays, we pay a flat fee, plus you keep your tips. On weekends, you keep whatever we make at the door, your flat fee, plus tips. During the season, we see a lot of traffic through here. With a voice like yours, it can mean good money. Not great money, but good.”
“It sounds perfect,” I say, trying to remain professional even though I want to jump up and down and squeal with excitement. The money won’t come anywhere close to what I need to pay my tuition, but it’ll be mine. It won’t be something given to me by my father or Marnie or anyone else. No one can take it away or say I didn’t earn it. For once, I’ll be making my own way.
The ground solidifies beneath my feet.
“One sec,” Tawnie says, making her way to the opposite end of the bar. Her wide hips roll with every step in her painted-on jeans. She has to be in her sixties, but she isn’t dressed like it. She reminds me of one of the women from an old 80s movie. Big hair, heavy makeup, bright clothes. She’s as unique as this island. I like her.
She grabs a clipboard off the wall before making her way back to me.
“I’ve got two spots left,” she says, flipping through the papers clipped to the board. “One at nine and one at ten. Which do you want?”
“Which is busiest?”
“Smart girl,” she says, grinning at me over the top of the board. “I’ll put you down for nine. The last ferry for the night leaves at ten. People start clearing out around nine-thirty.”
“That sounds perfect. Thank you so much, Tawnie.”
“We’ll see you Friday. You get one song, so make it count.”
“I will,” I promise, give her my contact information, then hurry out the door before she can change her mind. As soon as I step outside, the breeze blowing in from the water hits me, the scent of brine filling the air. The dull roar of the bar fades, replaced by the hum of traffic, and the purr of the boats on the water. There are so many of them, it’s like a constant traffic jam out there, and yet there’s order to the chaos. Everyone knows exactly where they’re going and what they’re doing.
I fish my phone out of my pocket to text Rhys.
Does a gig count as a job? Asking for a friend…
I don’t think he’ll be upset about it. Crap. Maybe I should have asked first?
“No way,” I whisper to myself. If there’s one thing my dad taught me, it was that it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. I’m a big girl. This is my life, my choice. I appreciate Rhys for wanting to look out for me, but I need to do this. Not for Marnie or for him, but for me. To prove to myself that I can. If I manage to graduate, I’ll be responsible for a multi-billion-dollar company. How can I do that when I can’t even take care of myself?
I’ve wallowed and cried and let myself drown in self-pity and grief for three months. Now, it’s time to put on my big girl panties and find out who I am. I may be an orphan, but I refuse to let that be my defining trait. I’m not going to be the hapless girl who allows life to happen to her. I’m not going to curl up quietly and just give up.
And I’m not giving up on finding out who killed my dad either. I’m going to prove to Rhys that I’m strong enough to handle whatever he thinks he’s protecting me from.
