11
It could have been worse, much worse I thought as I stepped through the doors, at the hole in the wall bar, Nipples.
My heart raced as I looked in the direction of the manager. It was the middle of the day, but he was usually buzzing around getting things set up and screaming at the staff. It wouldn't take long to find him.
When Edward had first told me to come in here and book myself as a solo act, I was actually a little excited. He gave me a level of confidence that I’d never had before; making me truly believe that I was good enough. But as I thought back to the other day when I played for Edward’s grandmother, all that confidence very quickly faded. From the sour face she made when I started, to the stone cold expression she fixed me with as I finished singing my song.
She actually got up and left right in the middle of my performance, only to return at the end and say, "Well, you're no Art Garfunkel."
I was going to quip and tell her that I was always more of a Paul Simon kind of a guy, but something told me that she wouldn’t find that particular joke very funny.
"But your voice is pretty. Needs training, needs breath support, but it'll do," she continued, as a grin spread across her face.
A weight lifted off my shoulders as the words seemed to melt the tension that was very steadily building in the room. "So…" I attempted, not sure what to say next.
"You can marry my grandson," she said nonchalantly, sipping on her cocktail.
Edward was on his feet in seconds, leaping into my arms and smiling. "I told you he sang well."
"He's adequate. He's got potential," she grumbled, placing her cocktail down.
"He's more than adequate, he sings like an angel," Edward defended as he kissed me. He sounded like he truly meant it.
His eyes danced as they met mine and although I wanted to be respectful to his grandmother, I couldn't help but kiss those soft lips back.
"I'll admit, you have a gift," His grandmother cleared her throat, interrupting our romantic moment. "Treasure it, nurture it, my boy and don't stop until you get to the top."
I couldn’t contain my relief, my smile spreading from ear to ear. "Thank you, Ms. Lohan."
"And most importantly, Cody..." Her eyes narrowed on mine as she made sure to hold my gaze.
"Yes, ma'am?" I swallowed.
"Don't hurt my grandson—I know people," she told me in all seriousness, her statement echoing that of her grandson’s. I was pretty sure that she was equally as adept as he was.
"Yes, ma'am," I said, and I meant it. I'd never hurt the man I loved, not intentionally anyway, and I couldn't blame her for being protective.
I couldn't get over the fact that I'd done it without self-sabotaging. The whole day beforehand I’d had to remind myself, again and again, to try and get through the meeting without doing or saying anything stupid or incriminating. And as we left his grandmother’s suite, it seemed that I had for once in my life managed.
I always found some way to mess things up. But this, getting his grandmother's blessing, was important to him, so I made sure to put in the extra effort. I was just relieved that it paid off.
Edward had whispered in my ear, just before I sang, "Sing from the heart." And that was enough to get me through that hurdle.
But now, preparing to talk to the manager at Nipples, I suddenly found all that confidence evaporating. I was very quickly back to my old self.
The balding prick looked at me as if I were joking when I asked if I could play. He then, very purposefully said, "What about Aaron?"
"What about him?" I set my guitar case down.
"Does he know about this?" he asked, chomping on his cigar. There was no smoking allowed there, but he didn't care.
"Well, no but—" I started to explain.
"Then, no-can-do," he said matter-of-factly as he strolled by me.
"What do you mean? You book acts all the time. Won't you at least hear me sing? I saw your booking calendar, and you have every Thursday night open," I said, following him.
"Not anymore," he said, not even turning around.
"Who do you have booked then?"
"None of your business."
"Look, sir. I'm kind of in a situation. I'm getting married and—"
"I heard. To a dude, right?" He chuckled.
"You heard? Who told you?" I wanted to know where he had heard that from. I hadn't told anybody.
He took a little longer than he ought to have to come up with an answer, stepping behind the bar as he eventually said, "small town."
"Well, you know then that I could use a little hand up. I'll work free, just for tips on your worst night at 3 A.M., if you need somebody. Just kind of need a break."
It was a shit deal, for me anyway, but I was determined. This was mine and the love of my life's livelihood we were talking about here. I knew that if he just gave me a chance that he would eventually change his mind. He just needed to hear me play.
"Aaron and I have been… friends for a long time. You should think about what you're doing. Word of betrayal spreads fast in this town," he warned, as he wiped down the bar counter.
I was floored. That bastard Aaron had deliberately gone out of his way to try and control me; even after I left the band. He must have told the manager that I might think about stopping by. And it was definitely him that was telling everyone about my engagement. Who knows who else he might have called? Was he really so mad at me as to try and ruin my life?
"Give you a word of advice. Want it?" He ground his cigar into an ashtray.
"Not really," I told him, ready to walk out.
"Patch things up with Aaron. You guys are good together. You've got talent. I've heard you doing backgrounds, but you're no lead singer," he said, smoke trailing out of his nose.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." I charged for the door.