Sitting in his dingy apartment, Eric strummed his guitar. Glancing around, he’d miss this place in a weird way, with its non-working AC, peeling paint and the ever present smell of beef jerky that filled the hall outside his door.

His bedroom door opened and Julie—or was it Jill—wandered out in her clothes from last night.

“Hey,” she said, giving him a weak smile.

“Hey,” he said, going back to his guitar. He didn’t normally stay the night with a woman, especially one that he picked up at one of his shows, but he’d made an exception last night, since he was leaving town and moving out of the apartment.

“So, I had a good time last night.” She said, fidgeting in front of him.

“Yeah.” His fingers glided across the strings as he worked on a melody that had been stuck in his head.

“I was wondering if maybe—“

“Listen, I’ve got a gig to get to and it’s my last day in this apartment, so I’m going to need you to leave.” He stood from the couch and laid his guitar in his case. He turned and she stood there with her mouth hanging open. Not the most attractive look for her. Last night was fun, but he knew the kind of woman she was. He was a notch in her belt and nothing more.

“That’s it?” He hoped she wasn’t going to go psycho on him. The label would be pissed if she freaked out and brought any bad publicity. They were completely sold on him as the nice guy broken hearted guitar player. He’d been warned that this image was not something to stray from and he did not want to piss them off right now.

“Yeah, that’s it. Unless you wanted me to sign your shirt or something.” She immediately brightened and he gritted his teeth. She pulled a sharpie from her bag and thrust it at him. He signed her shirt and she practically bounced out of the apartment. He shook his head. If someone told him a year ago, he’d be pissed because some groupie was using him for sex he would have laughed his ass off. Now it wasn’t exactly funny anymore.

This was his last day in the apartment he’d scrapped together money to rent a little over a year ago. Things were changing, he wasn’t even sure where’d he’d end up in the coming weeks, let alone at the end of the summer. He slid Vicki, his guitar, off his lap and onto the couch. It was his most prized possession, that guitar had belonged to his father. The last thing he had from him. His dad left it on the coffee table the morning he disappeared.

He hefted his duffle bag onto his shoulder and picked up the case with the other hand. This place had been home to him for almost a year, which was longer than he’d been in one place since he left home. He’d just gotten in that morning, jumped off the tour during a short three day break to play a going away party for a friend and meet with his record label in the morning. The duffle had the last of his things he’d left behind before heading out onto the tour.

Checking to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind on his final visit, he locked the door and headed to the lease office to drop off his keys. He was opening for one of the biggest bands in the country, Uncharted. He’d be on tour for at least the last leg of Uncharted’s tour, which should go on for at least two months. No sense in keeping a place that he had to pay for when everything he owned could fit in a duffle bag—other than his guitar.

Dropping off those keys was the end of a chapter in his life. The end of the starving artist, scraping together loose change to buy a burger phase. After doing the festival circuit for a couple years, his studio album was finally ready with a single that had come out only a few weeks ago. It was such a surreal feeling sitting somewhere and your song is suddenly blasting out of the radio or off someone’s computer. The pause it gave him hadn’t worn off yet, he was always slightly afraid he was accidentally playing his own music off his phone or something. He always stopped for a second, just to be sure he wasn’t imagining it. And he had hoped that after everything he’d put into his music it would finally pay off and now he could finally say he’d made it to the big time.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

Mark: Eric! Thanks for coming by tonight. Glad we’ll get to see you before we head to NYC. Drinks on the house as usual!

Eric: Always happy to play for free booze, see you when I get there.

Mark was a good guy, ran a chill bar with great food and a nice little set up that allowed Eric to pop in whenever he had a chance. He always tried to choose one home base bar in any major town he was in. A place he could hang out, play some music and get free booze. Granted the free booze and food thing was less of a big deal than it had been before when he was scrounging for cash. It beat singing on the street corners trying to scrape together a few dollars to get something to eat.

But his debut single hit the airwaves and the record label seemed happy, even giving him a nice fat advance check. Forwarding that money on to his mom brought a smile to Eric’s lips. More than a smile, it was a shit eating grin he couldn’t wipe off his face whenever he thought about it. It was one of his proudest moments. He wished he could have been there to see the look on her face when she opened it. He knew she would squirrel it away for Sean’s college fund, just like every other cent she ever made had been squirreled away for his college. Knowing how hard she worked to pay for school had made dropping out of Juilliard one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but the payoff made those years of heart ache worth it.

With his next check, he’d be able to force her to quit all her jobs. Force her to take a vacation and actually relax for once. He’d make sure Sean’s college fund overflowed. Maybe buy her a new house, hell maybe two houses. Watching her go without through years of him getting music lessons, new instruments and repairing broken instruments, had almost made him want to quit at one point. But she sat him down and set him straight.

“Eric, if you give up now, I swear I’ll kick your ass. I didn’t work so hard to give you all the best things when it came to your gift, so you could throw it away.”

“But mom,” he whined, like only an annoying ten-year-old could. “I can get a job. I can mow lawns or deliver papers. I can help out more now that dad’s gone.”

“Don’t even think about it. These are grown up problems and I’m the grown up, so they are mine to handle. You will get in there and practice. Do you understand me?” She said, cupping his chin and rubbing the side of his face with her thumb.

The last time he’d seen his dad, he’d only been back a while. He was always traveling and then he was gone again. But that time he didn’t come back. It had been one of the hardest days of his life. That was the day he’d come home from school and his mom sat him down and told him his dad had skipped out on them. His mom told him, she didn’t know why, but he was gone and they’d have to soldier on without him. He’d been so angry tears sprung to his eyes, a fire burning in his chest. He wiped away the tears with his sleeve, trying to look tough in front of his mom and failing miserably.

He remembered those nights sitting up with his dad playing the guitar together, his fingers still not big enough to play the chords properly. If he hadn’t loved it so much already, his dad skipping out on them might have made him hang up the guitar forever. Instead he found solace in the chords and notes and plowed ahead with the other instruments he’d learned over the years.

But back then, he was just angry. His mom never let him take on any of the bigger problems of the house. He was the man of the house now, it was his responsibility to help. Her hand gently stroked his hair, his face was red and ruddy with frustration and she dipped her head to meet his eyes. Frustration bubbling up, tears in his eyes, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall.

“I know you want to help, honey. I know you do. But do you know what you can do to help me?” she asked, her voice so gentle and loving.

“What?” he said, his voice cracking.

“You can play your heart out,” she said, fiercely. “Do you know how happy it makes me to hear you play? To see all that you can do? You’re amazing sweetheart and someone with a gift like yours shouldn’t hide it away. It would be a real shame if people didn’t get to hear your music because you were stuck behind a counter somewhere doing something you hate.” She hugged him and her chest heaved, he knew she was trying to hold back the tears too. Pulling back, she held onto both of his arms.

“I love you sweetheart and I need to hear your music. I need other people to hear your music. That’s how you can help us. Okay?”

“But mom—” he tried, but she put her fingers over his lips.

“Play your music and remember who you are. Always keep who you are close to you, even when you’re a star. I know you will be. Okay, honey?”

“Okay,” he said, nodding.

“Right, now back into your room and get practicing. Those instruments aren’t going to play themselves.” She put on her coat, headed out to job number two. “Sean will be back in an hour or so and dinner is in the oven. Love you, sweetheart,” she said, blowing him a kiss.

He knew how much his music meant to her. She’d always pushed him toward the more classical side of things, which was how Juilliard happened. When she was between shift changes, the three of them ripped open that fat envelope in the kitchen. They’d jumped up and down until they were all hoarse. His mom was floating on a cloud for days. A full scholarship, including room and board meant that the college fund she’d saved for him could be used for things around the house. But of course, she didn’t do that, she put it toward Sean’s college fund and a van for him to drive back during breaks. With all his instruments, flying would have been nearly impossible. That old clunker had made the journey home many times before finally dying just outside of LA yesterday.

Juilliard had taught him a lot, but it didn’t make him any money and he couldn’t see how staying for one more year would have helped. When his summer van tour got him a little attention, he’d been booked in a few festivals, then the record label wanted to front him the money to record an album. It had all snowballed to this point. Once he wrote the final song for the album, he’d been put on tour with Uncharted. Things were moving faster than he could keep up with, but at least now he could take care of his mom and brother. Ever since his dad split, he’d taken on that mantle and now he could finally follow through with the promises he’d made to himself to ensure that they didn’t ever want for anything ever again.

But things taking off for him didn’t come without bumps in the road. Talia, his ex, left a dark painful bruise that hadn’t healed yet. The song he needed to write to get her out of his head just hadn’t come to him yet and it freaked him out. He needed this song to go on the album and let go of the gnawing ache left where his heart used to be since the breakup. Heading to The Bramble tonight would be a good distraction. Hopefully.

He ordered a taxi and sat on the curb outside the lease office waiting for it to arrive. Hello record label expense account, nice to meet you. Normally, the bus was his friend, but he could get used to not needing to lug all his crap on and off the bus. He was already checked in at a swanky hotel downtown courtesy of the label. It was a strange new world he was living in. He shot off a quick message to his mom.

Eric: In LA for the night. I miss you. I’m back on the tour day after tomorrow. Tell Marty I said Hi and be good.

Mom: Okay, I will. We’ll see you soon?

Eric: Not sure when, the tours on for a while and then who knows. But I’ll do the best I can to come home if we get close to Maryland.

Mom: Ok, sweetie, stay safe and I love you.

Eric: Love you too, Mom

He couldn’t wait for the day he could tell her she could quit her jobs. Their text conversations were always short because if her boss caught her texting she’d get canned. He almost hoped she would get caught, then she’d have one less job running her ragged. It sucked and he couldn’t wait for that first royalty check. He knew right where it was going and this time he wouldn’t let her squirrel it away. She was going to relax if he had to hold those cucumber on her eyes himself.

The taxi sped up, screeching to a halt, nearly taking him out with the bumper. He hopped up, dusted himself off and glared at the driver, dumped his stuff in the back seat. He gave the driver the bar address. His phone vibrated in his pocket as the taxi pulled away from the curb.

“Smithy!” It had been a while since he spoke to his manager. Well, less manager more, venue booker slash roadie when he’d been in LA scraping buy. Smithy took him under his wing to get a shot to relive his glory days and only took a small cut of any money he made. All in all, he’d been pretty lucky to find someone like Smithy, whose industry knowledge had been indispensable when he’d been looking for gigs that weren’t going to stiff him.

“Hey, Eric. You in town?” Loud music thumped in the background, he could barely hear Smithy.

“Yeah, I got in last night. Heading to the going away party thing. What’s up?”

“Don’t make it a late night, okay? We have that meeting bright and early at nine tomorrow.” He could tell from the way Smithy wheezed that he was worrying about it. It would freak anyone out getting called into the big boss’ office. The single was doing well and he’d be back on tour with Uncharted tomorrow night, so things couldn’t be that bad. Unless, they were going to pull him from the tour. He squeezed the back of his neck trying to stop all the horrible scenarios which were running through his head. He took a deep breath. Get it together Eric!

“I’ve heard Talia is trying to pull some crap at the label. Trying to throw her weight around.”

“Throw what weight around? She hasn’t had a hit single in months.” His ex wasn’t known for her musical ability, something he saw now that he wasn’t blinded by her.

“Maybe not, but she’s always ready to get down on her knees and beg for whatever it is that she might want,” Smith said, a cough covering his laugh.

Bile rose in his throat at the mention of Talia’s name and worse thinking of her down on her knees for anyone. That reaction hadn’t gone away even after all these months. They’d dated for a while, he had been cool with just being friends, but she was a woman who knew what she wanted and she wanted him. Not used to women chasing after him he’d gone along with it. A band geek most of his life, he hadn’t exactly had women propositioning him. She’d made her intentions clear from the get go and he’d been a little cautious, but she kept popping up and their paths crossed while they were both on tour. For some reason, she’d thought they would be good together. And after a while he did too. That was right up until she cheated on him.

Cheated on him when they were both staying in the same hotel. Their tours intersected that night, so she couldn’t even use the whole distance made her do crazy things excuse. She’d come to him all teary-eyed and apologized, but he had a way of shutting things down when things got painful. And that was pretty freaking painful, like someone put a boulder on his chest and made it hard to breathe. She wouldn’t tell him who she cheated on him with, but he imagined some fan she’d run into somewhere in the hotel or one of the guys on her tour.

He’d shut down. And her fake tears stopped immediately. She got pissed when he told her that was it. She expected to be forgiven and walk all over him. He might have been a band geek turned touring musician, but he wasn’t an idiot. And that was that, except in this business, people always popped up when you least expected it.

“I’m sure she’s perfected her technique by now,” he bit out.

“Oh, I’m sure she has. Anyway, I want you to be prepared for anything. Try to keep a straight face no matter what goes on in there.”

“Will do. Anything else?”

“No, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun tonight, but not too much fun.”

“So, you’re saying I should cancel the three bottles of vodka, liter of rum and order of onion rings already waiting for me at the bar. Check.”

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpanned. “Talk to you later,” Smithy said, the music kicking up a bit louder in the background.

“Later, Smithy.” Tonight, should be pretty uneventful. There would be enough out of control antics when he went back on tour. Stories about Uncharted were legendary and from the few dates they’d done together those guys were insane when it came to after show partying. A going away party for a friend, nothing crazy would be happening, would it?