Chapter Three

Harper

I stand in front of the mirror in nothing but my bra and panties and look at myself. I run my hands over my stomach, looking at my full breasts and hips. I gaze at myself for a long time, wondering what it is about me that Landon doesn't like. Wondering why he won't touch me when I've given all the signs and signals that I want him to.

As I run a brush through my hair, I start to wonder if it's because I'm a virgin. I know that freaks some guys out. But, I want Landon to be my first. Over the last couple of months – ever since he found me on that subway platform and became my manager – he's done nothing but help me. He's gotten me gigs I never would have gotten before. He's gotten me paid – and more than just the tips I would get in the park or on subway platforms.

He's been so kind to me and over the last few months, I can honestly say I've fallen in love with him. At least, I think I have, anyway.

Yeah, I'm twenty and some might think I'm naive. I'm a small-town girl living in the big city for the first time. I've never had a serious boyfriend. So, what could I possibly know about love, right?

I sigh and look at myself, tired of trying to untangle and decipher all of my feelings. Maybe, they're right. Maybe, I am naive. Maybe, I don't really know what love is. Maybe. But, I know that I feel something deeply for Landon. I know that I want to be with him – and not just sexually. Although that would be nice, I have to admit.

He's not home and I have a feeling he's out with one of his girlfriends. The jealousy that surges in me knowing he's with some other woman – when I'm right here wanting him – is painful. He probably doesn't realize it, but a couple of the songs I perform were written with him and our situation in mind.

I guess if nothing else, unrequited love makes for great song material.

I go out into the darkened kitchen and get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Twisting off the top, I take a long drink and walk over to the windows, looking out at the city.

I grew up in a small town in Georgia. One of those one-stoplight, one main road kind of towns. Blackburn has a population of less than thirty thousand and I grew up seeing the same people every day. I went to the same school with the same people, graduating with the same people I went to kindergarten with.

Blackburn isn't the sort of town that fosters and encourages dreams. It's the place where dreams and ambitions go to die. Assuming people there had any to begin with. As depressing as it is, most of the people I grew up with are content living and dying in Blackburn. They're content to work in the mill that employs most of the town, get home, get drunk, and get up the next morning to do it all over again.

But that was never the life I wanted. I'm different from the people I grew up with. I have dreams and I have ambition. And I work hard to make them happen. I busted my butt in school, got the best grades, and learned everything I could. Because I know, it's not enough to be pretty – you have to have some brains to go along with it if you want to make it.

When I turned eighteen, I left home over my family's vehement objections. They argued with me, threatened to disown me, and tried to forbid me from leaving. They don't understand. Nobody in my family – my parents, my brothers and sisters – have any dreams of their own. They're all content just living out that depressing circle of life in Blackburn. Doing nothing. Being nothing. Making nothing of themselves or of their life.

But, I'm not like them. I want to make something of myself. I want to make something of my life. So, even knowing that my family would likely never speak to me again, I boarded a bus and made my way to New York. I'd managed to save up enough from my job at the local Dairy Queen to get a crappy apartment in a pretty bad neighborhood.

We had our fair share of tough streets and bad characters in Blackburn, but nothing could have prepared me for a bad neighborhood in a big city. It's like two different worlds – and the one I'm in is way scarier. When I first got here, I'd lock myself in at night, put a table in front of the door, and not go out again until after the sun was up again.

In those early days, I looked for work and spent a lot of time singing in parks, on subway platforms – anywhere I could make a few bucks and get my music out there. My savings and the money I earned singing on the streets, kept me going – just barely. I ate a lot of Ramen noodles and SpaghettiOs for a while, but at least I had food in my belly. It wasn't much, but it was something. And I was always keeping my eyes open searching for an opportunity to get in front of the right people. Always looking for my big break.

And then Landon found me.

After that, things started to change. He started to get me gigs in coffee houses and other places – started getting my name out there. I mean, it's small time stuff, sure, but we all have to pay our dues. We all have to start somewhere, right?

And there is a genuine buzz about me. People come out to see me. To listen to my music. Listen to my words. There is no better feeling than looking out over the crowd and seeing people caught up in my music, my voice. No better feeling than the energy of the crowd and hearing their buzz flowing through my veins. It's heady and intoxicating. And seeing that I'm making real connections with people makes my heart swell with love and pride.

It's why I do what I do. I want people to hear my words, to maybe take something from them that they can relate to. That maybe helps them find their way out of a dark place. That maybe makes them feel a little better, not so alone, and puts a smile on their face.

It's a gift I took away from some of my favorite artists growing up. And it's a gift I want to pass on to others. Maybe that's egotistical or thinking way too much of myself. But when I look around at the people who come to see me play, I feel like I'm making that connection with them. That maybe, I'm touching their lives the way my idols touched mine.

About a month after he found me on that subway platform, and a few gigs at coffee houses around Chelsea, Landon had me move into the spare room he had in his place. He said he'd sleep better at night knowing I was safe – something he said he'd never be sure of as long as I lived in that rat and crime infested neighborhood.

The move to his apartment in Chelsea was nice – and just another reason I'm so thankful to him. I can actually go out at night and not have to worry about something terrible happening to me. I feel safe in Landon's place – which is a nice feeling.

I watch the street below me from the darkened windows of the living room. I watch couples strolling along, hand in hand, enjoying the night. And I stand there with my bottle of water, still savoring the buzz of tonight's performance – but feeling the bitter sting of loneliness.