CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Chelsea
I listened to the old timers in the corner. “Sure is. Sometime next week’s when I expect her to make landfall. Write it down.”
“Last summer we didn’t have much in the way of storms. Bound to catch up with us. You’re probably right.”
The men went back and forth talking about one of the tropical storms that had been named on the news. I hadn’t bothered to turn on the television. I knew I would hear everything I needed to right here at the store.
It was Sunday and my favorite day to be at work. It was hard to explain, but there was a certain serenity that descended on the island on Sunday, and it even found its way into the general store. The fishing boats still went out and tourists still flocked to the beaches, but the flow of the island slowed to an easy pace.
I knew the men would rock in the chairs and sip at least two cups of coffee before leaving the store. They spent their Sunday mornings in the same corner while their wives were at church. I pulled a scrap of paper from my apron and flattened it.
I had started a song in the shower, and slowly the body of it was unraveling on the paper. These were the days I wished I had my guitar with me. If I had the chance, Sunday mornings would be the perfect time to write.
I looked around for Jake. It was fun writing with him on my porch. He mainly tossed out ideas I had to squash, but that was part of the fun. I had never laughed so much with my guitar in my lap. He reminded me that it was supposed to be fun. Not everything could be emotional and reflective all the time. It starts to take a toll if the lyrics deplete you. With Jake around, it felt like the lyrics were breathing new life into my soul. It energized me like it never had before.
When he had arrived this morning, he smiled, said hello, and immediately started sweeping from the corner of the store. It was the first time I had seen him since the dinner at my parents’ house. Since the hug. Since I melted in his arms in front of the kitchen sink.
I worked six days a week to make up for the money I had to repay my father. Everyone else put in five. That meant Jake was gone for two days. Two long days.
Was it normal to miss someone you didn’t know well? I sighed, knowing the answer was no. Nevertheless, there was something about him that I was drawn to. When he wasn’t around, it was noticeable that the air wasn’t as calm, that I wasn’t as steady.
“Hey.” He strolled to the register. How did he appear like that? It reminded me of a vampire in one of the books I was reading. He showed up when the girl least expected it.
“How was your weekend? Do anything fun?” I asked, looking at his new sunburn. The bridge of his nose was red. Secretly, I had wanted to hear from him over the weekend. Paul had another bonfire, and the thought crossed my mind to invite him. For once, I was trying to take things slow. When we were alone, the brakes were unlocked and things spiraled before either of us could catch our breath.
“Good. Spent some time on the water. How about yours? Write anything new?” He smiled as if he was sharing a secret with me.
“Actually, I’m working on something now. Want to take a look at it?” I twirled the paper around so he could read it. I had never so readily handed over my lyrics before.
He scanned the paper. “This is good. I like it. Maybe even better than the one from the other night.”
“Really?” I blushed. How could anything be better than the other night? My back on the kitchen table, buttons flying everywhere—yeah, that was amazing.
“It sounds a little darker, like you’re coming from a deeper place. Finish it.” He handed me the paper.
He said it like I could do it in five minutes. I intended to finish all of the songs, but it didn’t work that way.
“I will. Hey, I was thinking about sending in the one you helped me with.”
“What do you mean?” He pulled a stick of gum from his pocket.
“I’ve been trying to get a contract with one of the labels in Nashville or Austin since I graduated. Every week I send in at least one—sometimes more than that.” I didn’t know whether to be proud or embarrassed by how high the number was. It grew each week.
He leaned on the counter. “And do you know anyone at the labels? How do you know someone gets them?”
I scrunched my face. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t thought of that before. “No, I don’t know anyone. I wish I knew someone. But eventually, they’ll land in someone’s hands who loves them. I just have to keep sending them.” I was new to the game, but I had researched all of the right contacts at the labels. Every week I switched up my pitch letter before sending another email. It was tedious and sometimes felt like a useless exercise, but it was the only avenue I had.
“But, that’s a crap shoot.”
The words stung a bit. I thought he understood the publishing and discovery process. Wasn’t it the same routine he had to go through with agents and publishers?
I shrugged my shoulders. “What other options do I have if I don’t know anyone in the business? I believe in my songs.” I was annoyed. “Do you have some advice that will land me a big record contract? Do you know a huge star who wants to sing my music?”
He placed one foot behind the other and backed away from the counter. I instantly regretted being such a big mouth. He was always so good at helping me brainstorm. I wanted him to stay longer, but he had a way of ducking out before I got all that I needed.
“Good luck with your music. It’s great stuff.” He winked before disappearing into the hallway. He was probably headed to the rental booth. People loved to paddle on Sunday mornings.
I sighed and looked at the words on my page. Well, that was a disaster.