I was so glad to get out of Between The Pages. The guys and I were playing at Wild Bill’s tonight, and I was still so new to the group, I wanted to do my best to make a good impression, even if I was a temporary replacement. I’d been practicing for the last few weeks with the guys, but this was my first show.

Unfortunately, my work schedule made it impossible for me to be there for sound check. But with Cooper, the original guitarist, out of commission, everyone was pretty flexible. They were just happy to have someone who could fill-in.

Carter offered to drag my stuff down to the bar for the sound check earlier. It wouldn’t be easy for them to get a good idea of how everything balanced without me there. You needed everyone, but he told me they’d figure out a way to make it work. I trusted they would.

It was their band and reputation on the line. Not mine.

Tap, tap, tap.

I drove my car as quickly as I could, knowing it was going to be a close call. Michelle had taken it literally when I said not to do anything while I closed down the register and shelved books. She looked at her stupid phone while I did everything. Sure, I told her to do that. But what kind of human being does nothing when they see someone else busting their butt?

Michelle.

Every story Jenny had ever shared with me seemed much more believable after spending several hours with her. And the way she treated poor Mrs. Bristol. I wasn’t into bodice rippers or anything, but who was I to judge her? She was lonely, and they made her happy.

Tap, tap, tap.

I couldn’t think about that right now. I had to focus on the songs I’d be playing tonight. I’d practiced several times with the band and had played their songs over and over again when I was home. However, this was the first time I’d played in front of a crowd. It was only teen night at Wild Bill’s, but for a guy who struggled with large groups of people, it was far beyond my comfort zone.

The sun was just setting as I pulled into the parking lot, still in my black shirt and khaki shorts. Hopefully, the Chucks on my feet would be enough to give me the edge the band wanted to portray. They all thought they were so rock and roll.

Wild Bill’s was infamous in River Valley. It was apparently the best place to get draft beer around here. There was a fight almost every weekend, and it was the place almost everyone went when they finally turned twenty-one. I planned to go anywhere but here when that birthday rolled around.

The guys played here because Cooper’s uncle owned the place. He insisted that the band keep playing here even though he’d broken his arm.

I walked up to the building through the pothole-ridden parking lot. Even the neon sign only showed part of the name of the bar. Instead of saying Wild, it said il. Did that mean Bill was the illest?

I needed to focus.

“Hey, man,” Carter said, as I walked in the door. The bouncer stationed himself at the entranced making sure all the underage kids had bright wristbands and X’s on their hands. I was only nineteen, but he must have recognized me because he let me right in.

“Hey, Carter. Did it go okay earlier?”

“We had Cooper play your guitar the best he could. It was freaking hilarious, but everything sounds golden. I’m just glad you made it on time.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I got stuck doing a lot of extra crap at work.”

“That sucks.”

“You have no idea,” I mumbled, but knew he couldn’t hear me over the music that played over the speakers. The music matched the country feel of the bar.

“We go on in a few minutes. Go make sure everything looks okay.”

I ran up to the stage as the guys gathered around talking to each other. I didn’t know Carter very well, but I trusted my neighbor Matt. We’d been neighbors for as long as I could remember. We jammed together casually before he formed this band with the other guys. So, when he said I could trust Carter to take care of my stuff, I believed him.

I was glad I put my trust in him. All of my gear was set up almost exactly how I liked it. It was a good thing because I didn’t think I could handle any more surprises that night. I spent the next couple minutes fine-tuning my strings and testing my pedals.

Before I knew it, Owen, the lead singer of the band, was holding the microphone and welcoming everyone.

“Thanks for coming out to Wild Bill’s tonight. I’m Owen, the lead singer of The Band.” Cue the frantic screaming from the girls in the crowd. And some subtle eye-rolling from their newest guitarist. I still couldn’t believe no one cared there was already a band called The Band. They were pretty big in the 60s. I mean, what the hell kind of group played folk-rock and didn’t know all the lyrics to The Weight?

Focus.

Matt started banging his drumsticks in time to the beat of the song we were about to play, and it was my chance to see if I had what it took to be in a band playing in front of a crowd of maybe fifty people.

I spent the next hour concentrating on my playing. My fingers flew across my guitar, and I only missed a couple of notes. Not bad for only a couple weeks of practicing together. Owen practically made love to the microphone as he belted out the lyrics to the songs we played. Some were originals, but most were covers of popular songs.

They were the crowd favorites. It was easy to tell from my standpoint on the makeshift stage. The cheering was just a little bit louder, the dancing more enthusiastic. And because the lighting wasn’t great, we could see the girls who were in the front row singing along when they knew the words.

Being on stage was awesome. Exhilarating. When we finished, I already knew it was something I wanted to do again.

I never wanted to stop. I wanted to play one more song, and then another. It was a good thing I didn’t have any say because I didn’t realize how tired I was until the music quit and I started packing my gear up. I could barely keep my eyes open after my long day.

I’d just finished wrapping up my cords and shoving them in my backpack when Owen walked up to me. He had the typical lead singer vibe. Tight pants, faded band tee, longish hair that was wet with sweat after our performance. “Great job tonight, Owen.”

“I know.” His smile was condescending. “Too bad you were as stiff as a statue up here. Maybe you can pretend you are enjoying it a little next time.”

Pretend I enjoyed it? I thought the goofy grin I couldn’t get off my face was a dead giveaway of just how thrilling it had been to me.

I tried to come up with a quick response but was completely caught off guard by his comments. By the time I thought of something to say, he was long gone. I spotted him down on the floor laughing with a couple of the girls who’d been checking him out the whole time. I didn’t recognize them.

“Don’t worry about him,” Matt said, walking over to me. “He’s more in love with himself than a girl taking pictures of herself.”

“Everyone else in the band seems so chill.”

“Yeah, and everyone else sounds like a beached whale when they try to sing. We needed a singer. Owen not only fills that spot, but also gives one hell of a performance. The girls love him.”

“He said I was too stiff.”

Matt laughed. “Dude, you looked like a statue.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s your first time. I get it,” Matt reassured me. “Try practicing in front of the mirror or something.”

I could picture it now. Me downstairs in the basement with my guitar, practicing my moves in front of the mirror. Chances were, Sarah would pick that exact moment to come barging down. If she caught me, I’d never hear the end of it.

There had to be another way.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Matt laughed again. “Rainier, I can already tell you’re full of it. But seriously, figure it out. You’re a great guitar player. You just need to work on your stage presence.”

“I will,” I said slinging my backpack over my shoulder and grabbing my amp. “But right now, I just need to get home and go to bed.”

“You’re the lamest rock star I know.”

“Good thing I’m only an honorary member until Cooper gets patched up then.”

“Good point.” Matt put a hand on my shoulder before he walked back over to his drum set and started his breakdown.

It only took me two trips to get all my stuff into my car before I was able to head home. I didn’t want to unload my stuff when I got home, and I doubted anyone in our small town would take my stuff right out of our driveway. Who would think to rob an old station wagon anyway? But equipment was expensive, and I was a broke college student.

I sighed to myself before opening the door to the backseat. I grabbed what I could and went to close the door, only to see Sarah standing next to me. I hadn’t seen her walk up, but I was too tired to be startled.

“Since I couldn’t come to the show tonight, I can at least help you with your things.” She shrugged her shoulder.

“You really are the best sister. Did you know that?”

“Only because you tell me every day,” she said with a yawn. “Sometimes twice a day.”

I handed her the lighter things, the backpack full of cords and guitar case. I grabbed the amp and speaker cabinet from the very back of my car.

“How was work?” I asked, as we carried everything to the front door of our parents’ house.

“Long. I swear sometimes I don’t think working at The Farmhouse is worth it.”

“Yeah, but how else you gonna stick it to Mom and Dad?”

She smiled. “Speaking of, they stayed up so they could hear all about your show. You really should let them go next time. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I stopped at the door before opening it. I lowered my voice to a loud whisper in case they were listening on the other side. “Have you met our parents? I’m not sure if there’s any way to stand out more than inviting them.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Mom and Dad love you.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Then let them come be supportive.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Fine. But you’d better let them be excited when we walk through that door.”

“You’re terribly concerned, considering you're the self-proclaimed problem child.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean I don’t throw them a bone every once in a while,” she said, before opening the door and walking in.

The comforting smell of patchouli hit me as soon as I walked through the front door. I followed Jenny inside to the living room where my parents were waiting with barely restrained enthusiasm. I could see it in the way they both sat on the edge of the seat cushions in anticipation.

My mom's long hair was pulled back in a bun. My dad still had his blue bandana tied around his head. He claimed it hid the fact that he was going bald. As soon as I walked closer and set my amp on the ground, they jumped up.

"How’s our little rock star?” My mother pulled me into a hug. “Please tell me you have pictures.”

“Sorry, Mom,” I answered, my voice muffled by her shoulder. She had me in a death grip and wasn’t letting go.

“What do you mean you don’t have pictures?” my dad asked from beside me. He wore similar glasses as mine and was frowning behind his thick white beard. “I happen to have it on good authority that teenagers these days are always taking pictures with their phones.”

My mom loosened her grip and looked at my face. I could see the crow's feet on the outer corners of her eyes as she examined me. “Your father’s right. That’s what teenagers do these days.”

“Well, it’s not exactly easy to take a picture when you’re using both hands to play guitar, and I forgot to ask anyone to take pictures for me.”

“Next time, Rainier.” She sat down and motioned for me to do the same.

We spent the next several minutes talking about the show. They wanted to know what it was like to play in front of all those people. Was Wild Bill’s as bad as people said? Could I remember all the songs? When was the next performance?

I looked over to my sister who was giving me an encouraging nod. “Mom, Dad, I actually thought you might want to come see the next one.”

My mom clasped her hands together, and my dad took the opportunity to stand up, walk over, and put his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll be there. But now it’s time for your mother and me to get some rest. We’re so proud of you, son.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Goodnight.”

When they were finally out of earshot, my sister turned to me. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah, asking wasn’t the part I was worried about,” I said, before going down to my basement bedroom and going to sleep myself.