Chapter Two

Olive

I was singing with my eyes closed because I didn’t want to look at the people in the bar, none of whom were paying me any attention. It was the same routine over and over again, and the money wasn’t any good either.

I made just about enough to be able to rent a room above an old antiques store and live off microwave noodles. Venice was an expensive neighborhood in LA, but my prediction had been that it would also be the spot with the greatest potential for a singer/songwriter.

There were a myriad of bars and hipster pubs around the beachfront, and I was hoping that my music career might kick off. But it hadn’t. I’d been living in Venice for close to six months now, and I still hadn’t got the break I was hoping for.

I was still spending every evening in my room, too poor to be able to afford a decent meal at a restaurant, writing songs that nobody was listening to.

I sang throatily now, while Danny, my guitarist, sat on a stool beside me. I could hear the dissatisfaction in every chord that he strummed. I was a country folk singer, and I’d wrongly predicted that Venice was going to be a country folk crowd. My music did nothing for the listeners, and I had a feeling that this bar wasn’t going to hire us the following night.

There went my supply of noodles for a week!

I ended the song, opened my eyes, and found that everyone was seated and talking to each other, exactly the way I’d left them when I started singing. Not a single person clapped, and nobody even seemed to notice that the song had ended.

I thanked the crowd nonetheless, and a few heads turned in surprise—like they were just now realizing that there had been live music at the venue.

I sighed, stepped away from the microphone, and faced Danny, who was packing up his guitar in his case.

“Tough crowd,” I told him with a laugh. I’d known Danny for six months. We’d met on my first night in Venice, at a café. He was hitting on me, as I sat by the window writing a song, and initially I tried to shoo him away from my table, till I noticed the guitar case on his back.

We started talking, and he took me back to his place. It was supposed to be a one night stand, but the next morning, I was singing in his shower and when I stepped out, he suggested that we jam together. It turned into a working collaboration.

I wrote some songs, he set them to tunes, and we jammed together, till eventually he was able to book us for a gig at a local pub. These days we only played covers, since they received more of a reaction than our originals. But that reaction wasn’t good enough. Nobody in Venice seemed to be interested in music anymore.

Danny and I never slept together again. The sex was bad. His beard got in my way, and I got the feeling that Danny was looking for a different kind of girl. Now he’d found Marley and they seemed happy together, and I was happy for him. He was a friend, and I wasn’t interested in him romantically. Besides, having Marley in his life had given him some direction, which was still lacking from mine.

“You look sad tonight. Everything okay with Marley?” I asked him now, while he packed up his gear.He still hadn’t looked me in the eye yet.

“Yeah, everything’s good with Marley, the best! She’s got a new job, waitressing at Gasworks,” Danny said, referring to the new hip restaurant that had opened up the previous month.

“Good for her! That’ll make things easier for you guys?” I suggested with a smile, but Danny only shrugged.

“It also means that I need to step up my game. I don’t want my girlfriend to be the sole earning member in our relationship,” Danny said with a sigh, and I watched him curiously, waiting to hear what I knew he was going to say.

“Olive,” he said sadly, and I nodded my head, to make it easier for him.

“I understand. You want to take a break from our music.” I said it for him, and Danny’s eyes shot about the place nervously.

“I don’t want you to think I’m giving up on us—I’m not. I just think that I need a job—any job, just something to contribute towards our rent,” he explained, and I kept nodding in support. Without Danny accompanying me to the few gigs we still managed to get, it would make it even tougher for me.

“Don’t sweat it. I’m going to be in Georgia for a few weeks anyway, visiting my brother. We can touch base again when I get back,” I told him, and Danny seemed to sigh with relief at the thought that he wasn’t completely abandoning me.

“Okay, that’s good, Olive. Hopefully, I’ll have stuff sorted out by the time you get back,” Danny said, and he reached over for a hug. I hugged him back, and we smiled at each other.

“Yeah, who knows, maybe I’ll come back with a sparkling new résumé and apply for waitressing jobs at Gasworks too,” I declared with a laugh.

“The pay is good, the hours are shit, but at least you can afford breakfast,” he said, and I nodded.

“I’ll think about it. Thanks, Danny.” I tucked my hands into the pockets of my short denim skirt and watched him get off the stage, with his gear in tow.

He gave me a wave as he left the bar, and I smiled and nodded my head at him. Unlike Danny, I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I hung around at the bar, accepting drinks from guys who hadn’t noticed me singing but noticed me now.