DIRTY ROOMIE
By Alycia Taylor
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2018. All rights reserved.
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Chapter One
Silas
I hadn’t done all that many gigs, but whenever I did, I felt a flutter of excitement throughout the day leading up to the event. It was hard not to get my hopes up, and the thought that an agent might be lurking was always on my mind. I knew I’d chosen a career path that wasn’t easy. I knew that many people failed, and I knew that most people thought I was completely insane to be even attempting to go that route. I saw it in their eyes whenever they asked me what I did for a living.
“Yeah, I know you like to sing—but what do you want to do with your life?”
It was hard to make them understand that I had no intention of doing anything but being a singer. Sure, I needed money for the bills. That was why I had taken on construction work to at least get me by. But construction was not part of my long-term plan. I was going to become a full-time singer, and I was not going to let anything get in my way. I knew going in it wasn’t going to be an easy ride, and I didn’t mind this one bit. All the men in my family were hard workers, and I was no different.
I stood in front of the mirror now, assessing my outfit. I considered going for the full-on country look, but I didn’t want to come across as too cheesy. I put the hat on and took it off about a million times before deciding that it was too much. My brother, Xavier, had told me once that while he was proud of me, he often wished I’d chosen something a bit more mainstream to focus my talents on.
“You could’ve been a rock star, you know.”
He’d said he was joking, but I knew that deep down he wondered why I had chosen this path. The men in my family weren’t just hard workers. They were also rugged men. Most of them, at least. They were motorcycle-riding, leather-wearing tough guys, and country music simply didn’t fall into place in that rock-and-roll lifestyle. But I’d always loved country music. There was something about it that had always spoken to me in a way that no other music had ever done before. It was soulful, real, and touching.
I was the only one in my family that could sing. It was a standing joke between all of us that I wasn’t really an Aarons. It wasn’t like I was the only one that could sing well; it was that I was the only one that could sing at all. I had no idea where the talent came from. All I knew was that one day I was singing a song at school, along with the rest of the kids, and the teacher pulled me aside afterward to tell me that my voice was wonderful. I could still remember the day clearly.
“It is?” I asked, surprised. I’d always loved singing, but I had no idea that I was actually any good at it.
The teacher, a young woman with a slight lisp, smiled at me. She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes bright with excitement.
“Oh, Silas, you have the voice of an angel. Now, have you considered joining the choir? Because we could really use someone like you.”
My face had gone red, and I remember shaking my head in embarrassment. I had no intention of joining the choir. My brothers would tease me senseless if they ever found out. Which they would. The school wasn’t all that big, and word always got around.
“No, uh, I don’t think so.”
“Why not? You’re so talented. And anyway, you’ll only improve with practice. This could be the start of something great for you. Don’t you want to sing?”
I did want to sing. I just hadn’t realized it until then. After a little more coaxing, she finally convinced me to join the choir. She invited me to practice and told me that if I didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t have to. Of course, after just one practice I knew that I would join. And teasing would just have to become a part of my life. It seemed worth it for the chance to sing, and to this day it was something I would never regret.
I’d been invited to sing that night at a local bar. I knew the owner, and he’d been promising to get me on stage for a while. It was a small bar, but I was not in the position yet to be picky. To me, any chance was one that I had to take.
The owner, Mark, called me over the moment I walked in. I tried to ignore how quiet the bar was and told myself that it was only because I’d arrived a little early. But I knew that wasn’t the case, and I could see that Mark looked a little embarrassed for me. He gestured around the room and shrugged.
“Slow night tonight, it seems. Sorry man. It’s hard to predict these things. Some nights the place is so busy we can hardly move in here, and other nights it’s just not. The luck of the draw and all that.”
I smiled to reassure him. “It’s okay, really. I know what these things are like. It’s out of your control. I’m fine with it.”
He looked relieved. I was sure that he was used to dealing with singers that expected a full audience from him at all times. Perhaps one day I’d become arrogant, but I certainly didn’t plan on it. I liked Mark, and no matter what, I was grateful that he had at least given me an opportunity. He wouldn’t have asked me to sing at his bar if he didn’t at least think I was good.
“Thanks, Silas. You’re a good man. But, well, uh . . . there’s something else,” he started.
I sighed. “You don’t think it’s worth me playing,” I said. It was something I’d been worried about the moment I walked in.
“What? Oh, no. I definitely want you to play.”
“Oh yeah? Oh good. I want to play. So, what’s the problem?”
“Uh, look, it’s just that I’m not going to be able to pay you the full fifty dollars tonight. It’s just . . . well, as you can see, the place is not exactly thriving. I have to be careful with the money. And I’m probably not going to make a lot on people buying drinks with this small crowd. I hope you understand.”
I smiled again. It was a bit of a joke really, to get paid so little for a full night of singing, but I knew that it was just part of my journey. One day I would look back on these nights and laugh at how little I made. Right now, I would just go up there and do what I could to make the best of it. It wasn’t like I was losing out on a lot of money anyway. It was either make a few bucks or sit at home and get nothing.
“That’s fine, Mark. Thanks for letting me know. I know it’s out of your control, like we said. And hopefully one day I’ll get to come back on a busy night.”
“You’re a good sport. Right, let me get up there and introduce you,” he said.
I looked around the room and sighed. Why did it have to be so quiet the night I was going to sing? It probably had more to do with the fact that I’d been asked to come and sing on a Tuesday night rather than on the weekend. Was I just not good enough for a weekend slot? I tried to see if anyone looked like a potential agent but it was hard to say. For the most part, everyone just looked bored, but perhaps this was all part of their master plan to stay hidden. Like an undercover cop waiting for his victim. I watched as Mark took the stage. Even he looked a little bored.
“Okay everyone, thanks for joining us tonight. Remember that it’s half price on drinks for the next hour, so make the most of it. Now, please make some noise for our singer, Silas Aarons!”
The words were met with the sound of a few hands clapping together, although I had a feeling it was only the barman and one other person, and I made my way up on stage. I took a seat and smiled out into the empty room. I saw a few people look nervously my way, and I tried to ignore the look of pity that crossed their faces.
“Thanks so much for having me, Mark. Hi, everyone; I’m Silas Aarons, and I hope you enjoy my songs.”
I took a deep breath and started playing. I was sure that I would one day be part of a band, but for now, I enjoyed the fact that it was just me and my guitar. There was something very emotional about being up on stage all by myself. The moment I started playing the guitar and singing, I felt the nerves wash off me. Instead of anxiety, all I could feel was the music itself. And for the next two hours, all I did was sing and play. I ignored the room around me, forgot where I was, and allowed myself to become fully immersed in the moment. When I finished my last song, I half expected the bar to be full and for people to be crowded around the stage. But, of course, this was far from the reality of what I saw. A few people were hanging around the stage, but nobody was even looking my way. Mark could’ve just played a CD for all that my effort was worth. I looked around to see if he was there but I couldn’t find him. Perhaps it was for the better. I didn’t want him to see just how uninterested the crowd had been. I cleared my throat, stood up, and said a thank you. I noticed two people look my way, and heard a very drunk man clap and whistle for me. I shot him a grateful look before heading off the stage.
I walked straight to the bar and ordered myself a drink. The barman told me that I had been brilliant, and despite the lack of enthusiasm from the crowd, I actually believed him. That was the thing with me—call it delusion or positivity—but I really believed that I had a shot at making it big one day. I took a seat, took a few big sips of my beer, and looked around for potential lurking agents. All I needed was for someone to give me just one shot. I needed just one opportunity to show the world that I had what it took to make it big. I knew I had it in me. This was just one small step toward something greater. I could feel it inside me. I ignored the pitying glances that came my way and focused on what I knew was coming. I would not give up.