Girl With Guitar (2 page)

A
few bucks short of a hundred dollars to her name, Kylie was ready to give up on whatever crazy-ass dream she’d chased to Nashville. Nearly two weeks at the hotel, plus food, and still no job had left her with next to nothing.

After the fourth rejection that Saturday, she trudged around town aimlessly. Everywhere she’d gone had a waiting list a mile long. For waitresses. Many of which were aspiring singers and songwriters. So much for being original. Nearly a year of saving money to buy her father a headstone, and it was gone in two weeks. Only two places had even taken her resume after she filled out an application. A restaurant called the Back Alley Diner and a bar slash nightclub called Whiskey Jack’s. Neither had called. In fact, no one had called.

A red guitar’s bright neon lights flickered to life as Kylie passed underneath. Somehow she’d wandered to The Rum Room. The Amateur Night she was signed up for at this exact bar was still two weeks away, and the way things were going she might be homeless by then. Darla had gotten her dad’s ‘88 Chevy pickup when he died so Kylie wouldn’t even have that to sleep in when she ran out of hotel money. She’d already filled out an application to waitress at The Rum Room, but she sulked in anyways, figuring there would at least be some decent music to listen to on a Saturday night.

A bluesy band with a jazzy twang was on stage when Kylie entered. She paid the six dollar cover, knowing good and well that it would cost her a meal. But the more she heard of the band, the more she was convinced it was worth it.

Kylie lowered herself into a seat near the bar and listened with her entire body. Within minutes her boot was tapping along with the bass and her body swayed with the singer’s soothing voice. Yeah, this was definitely better than food any day.

“What can I getcha, darlin’?” a brunette waitress with hair teased to Jesus asked. She reminded Kylie of a younger Ms. Pam, her boss back in Oklahoma, but with more eye shadow and a better body.

“Um, I’m really just here to see the band,” Kylie answered, knowing she didn’t need to waste another three bucks on a Coke.

“Got it. Enjoy.” The waitress winked and spun over to another table.

Kylie knew that look. The woman had thought she was a fangirl groupie. She surveyed the crowd and it was mostly young and female. Ah. Usually she found those girls shallow and annoying for the most part, but at that particular moment the lead singer was looking pretty hot. Though it didn’t seem to be him everyone was here to see. Most of the other clientele were busy texting and paying more attention to each other than the band.

“Damn it, where the hell is he?” Two men stood between Kylie’s seat and the bar. They didn’t seem too happy to see each other.

“He’ll be here, Clive. The bus got stuck in traffic,” a handsome gray-haired man with a goatee promised a heavy set man who wore rings on nearly every finger.

“This is the third time, Pauly. I don’t give a damn who he is, he’s taking up valuable slots and pissing people off. Most importantly,
me.
”

“Um, Clive?” Kylie’s waitress looked less than enthusiastic about interrupting the two men.

“Yeah?” the man who must have been Clive responded, glaring at her as if she were responsible for all the world’s problems. Kylie knew it was impolite to stare but she felt a little scared for the waitress who’d been so nice to her before.

“Kimmie’s not coming. She got an offer to play at some big time party so she won’t be making her shift.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” Clive dragged a thick hand over his face. “Tell her she’s fired.”

“Um, seriously? Clive we’re shorthanded as it is and who else is going to handle hospitality and the green room?” The waitress shifted her tray to the other arm.

“I’m looking at her, unless you want to collect your last check the same day Kimmie does.” The large man glared at the brunette until she nodded and backed away. Once she was gone he went back to arguing with Pauly.

Kylie said a quick prayer and held her breath. “Hey, um, ma’am?” she called out, flagging down the waitress.

“Yeah, sugar. You change your mind?” The woman sat her tray on Kylie’s table and pulled out her order pad.

“Um, oh, uh no.”

The weary-looking woman lowered her tablet. “Then what can I do for you?”

Kylie could tell she was starting to get pissed. “I’m a waitress. I mean, I have waitressing experience and good references and—”

“Can you start right now?”

Kylie’s heart leapt into her throat. “Yeah! I mean, yes ma’am.”

“How old are you?” The woman eyed her up and down.

“Eighteen.” She almost added that she’d be nineteen in two months, but that sounded like something a little kid would say.

“Okay, listen close because I’m only going to say this once. You are my cousin who just moved here from…hell, where are you from?”

“Oklahoma.”

“Perfect. I’m Tonya by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, cuz.” Kylie grinned.

Tonya just rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, kid.”

After a gruff introduction to Clive himself, who apparently owned the place, Tonya tossed Kylie a menu and an apron and told her she was hired.

An hour in, Kylie knew this was nothing like Pam’s Country Kitchen, the homestyle buffet she’d worked at back home, and that she’d just gotten in way over her head. Though the tips were much better. Three hours in, the band that was supposed to show still hadn’t and Clive was livid. Kylie had been pinched and patted in places she didn’t even want to think about by customers she could barely see in the dimly lit bar. But no way in hell was she going to mention that to Clive.

Her back ached, her feet were numb, and her head pounded. When Clive passed by and asked how it was going, she smiled broadly and said, “Fantastic!” with all the enthusiasm she could muster. He grunted something that seemed remotely like approval and moved on. When Tonya said it was break time, Kylie nearly collapsed into the nearest chair.

Tonya grabbed her by the shoulder and hauled her right back up. “Oh no, cuz. Got something to show you.” The waitress led Kylie past the stage and down a hallway that she hadn’t even noticed before.

“Hospitality room for media.” Tonya rapped on a door to her left just as she pushed it open. The plush room was mostly beige with some wooden accents. A couch that probably cost as much as Kylie’s house back home sat up against a wall. A small dark table with two wooden chairs sat next to it. A long buffet table held the remnants of what looked like a pretty impressive dinner buffet. Picked-over portions of barbecued chicken, pasta salad, a fruit tray, and a few rolls remained.

Kylie’s stomach growled at the sight. She’d been living on stale pizza for nearly two weeks.

“You hungry?” Tonya had obviously noticed Kylie’s mouth watering.

“A little,” she said, sure she was turning red with embarrassment.

“Well, help yourself. Eat while we walk.”

Kylie scooped up a piece of chicken, stuffed it into a roll, and followed Tonya out the door.

“Okay so, hospitality room for media is cake compared to the green room,” she said as she opened the door at the end of the hall.

Kylie nearly choked on her sandwich. This room alone was nicer than the bar itself. A leather sectional sat across from a flat screen television that took up most of the wall. A large oak table contained trays filled with chicken wings, sliders, and potato skins covered in cheese. Bottles of beer and water sat next to the spread. Kylie snagged a bottle of water on her way past.

Beyond that was a small but nice kitchen with a stainless steel fridge and microwave. A pool table and mini bar were tucked behind the kitchen. Around the corner was a bathroom complete with a shower stall.

“This room is nicer than where I’m staying,” she told Tonya.

“Yeah, it’s nicer than my apartment, too, and a hell of a lot harder to clean.”

“It’s my job to clean it, isn’t it?” Kylie asked as reality set it.
Okay, no problem
, she thought to herself. A dream come true had to come with a downside.

“Yeah.” Tonya smiled with sympathy in her eyes. “But we’ll tag team it till you get the hang of it.”

“Thanks.” Kylie didn’t know if this woman was an angel or just a decent human being, but she really wanted to hug her. She resisted, but just barely. “So um, how much…I just mean, not that it’s a big deal or anything.” Kylie stuttered over the embarrassing question.

“Enough,” Tonya answered with a wink. “Just be sure you tip out the bartender every night and all will be well.”

Kylie had done that with the hostesses at Pam’s. But only like five percent. “How much do you tip out?”

“Twenty percent is standard, thirty if you want to get your drinks to your customers before they grow old. Tips will be shitty tonight ‘cause some hotshot singer was a no-show, but most nights it’s pretty good.”

“Got it. Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah, until Clive puts you on the schedule, you’re just auditioning and this isn’t Oklahoma, honey. You were in the right place at the right time and I appreciate it, believe me.” Tonya cocked one hip and placed a hand on it. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. “I have a two-year-old home with a babysitter, and if you hadn’t come along I’d be cleaning these rooms until three in the morning. But Clive…he’s, well, he’s a hard ass.” Kylie watched the woman shrug. “We open at two every afternoon. It’s appetizers only until four when they fire up the grill. Most acts go on at seven. We’re supposed to kick everyone out at midnight but most nights regulars stay till two. Sometimes the bands don’t leave until then and we can’t clean the rooms until they’re gone.”

Her brain was working overtime to retain the information the woman was hurling at her. Basically she’d be working two in the afternoon until two in the morning. Should be a hell of a paycheck. The thought of an apartment of her very own appeared in the back of her mind.

The waitress studied her for a second and then sighed. “Listen, if it’s too much, just finish out tonight and don’t come back. No hard feelings, I swear—this ain’t for everyone.”

Kylie shook her head. “No, I’m good. Promise.”

“Okay well, until he puts you on that schedule,” Tonya began, gesturing to a giant dry erase board just outside of a door she said led to Clive’s office, “you show up at one. Every day.”

“Got it.”

“And Kylie?” Tonya stopped and turned so abruptly they almost collided.

“Yeah?”

“Boots and jeans are good, but tomorrow wear a tighter t-shirt.”

Kylie swallowed any worries this should cause. “Hey Tonya,” she said as she followed her back into the bar.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks…I mean it.”

“For what?” the brunette asked with an arched brow.

“Being the best cousin ever.”

Tonya laughed out loud. It was the first time Kylie had seen her do so. She looked ten years younger. “Kid, you’re either crazy or desperate—and you have to be both to make it here. I think you’re gonna do just fine.”

Both,
Kylie thought to herself.
I’m both.

A
fter
showing up at twelve-thirty every day for two weeks, Clive stopped ignoring her. She’d worn the tightest shirts she owned. She’d even tied some up in the back because hey, a girl’s gotta eat.

“Well, I guess you’re not going back to Idaho, huh?” the bar owner asked, clapping a big hand on Kylie’s shoulder. She briefly debated correcting him but thought better of it.

“No, sir. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,” she told him, shifting the enormous tray of wings and beer she was carrying to the arm he wasn’t clamped onto.

“All right. Next week you’ll be on the schedule. Good work, kid.” He cleared his throat, and looked as if he was debating on whether or not to waste anymore time speaking to a random waitress. “I’m not easily impressed, but the hospitality rooms are lookin’ better than ever and Tonya says you’re a huge help. I got guys in the kitchen whose lives I’ve threatened if they try to ask you out and run you off.” He winked at her and she grinned up at him.

“Thank you, um, for all of that.” She was surprised to see his cold dark eyes warm for a second. There was a flash of something fatherly about him that set off a deep ache inside of her.

“Well get back to work before you make a liar out of me,” he huffed, releasing her.
Back to business as usual,
Kylie thought. “Oh, and get with Tonya and fill out your W9, make a copy of your license and all that.”

“Yes, sir.” No more getting paid out of the cash register at the bar each night. Actual paychecks were coming soon. A daring sliver of hope settled in, causing her to grin like a crazy fool for the rest of her shift.

B
etween
waitressing and setting up and cleaning the hospitality rooms, Kylie was exhausted. In the past two weeks she’d checked in with Lulu a few times, but mostly she just showered and wrote and worked out new songs with her guitar until she passed out cuddled up next to it each night.

Stumbling through her morning routine of showering and getting ready while contemplating splurging on expensive coffee, she was half dressed when she remembered it was Amateur Night. At The Rum Room. Where she worked.

She’d been so grateful for the tips that were keeping her housed and fed for the time being, she’d lost track of what day it was. How would Clive feel about this? And Tonya? Oh hell, it was entirely possible that there might be a rule banning employees from performing at these types of things.

On her brisk walk to work, guitar case thumping behind her, Kylie tried to think of how to pose the question to Tonya. If there was a rule, she knew she should probably keep her job and sign up for open mic nights at other bars. No shortage of those. But damn. She’d already seen the list of managers and music execs that frequented The Rum Room’s Amateur Night. Not to mention the number of artists that had been discovered there. Talk about a blessing and a curse. It was everything she could do not to groan out loud.

When she arrived at work, she heard voices coming from the kitchen so she skirted the bar and slunk into the employee lounge. The hum of the Coke machine was the only sound she heard as she tucked her guitar behind the couch. She’d practiced for hours last night, and she knew exactly what song she would perform.
Goodbye Pride
, the new one. It was her song, her town, and the place where her father would remain buried forever.

Please God, do not let Clive fire me over this.

K
ylie
had tried twice already to pull Tonya aside, but the bar was packed. She wasn’t able to get her attention until almost seven, when open mic night would begin.

“Hey, cuz, I need to ask you about something, like
now
,” Kylie whispered to her when they passed each other filling drink orders.

Tonya unloaded the empty glasses from her tray, replacing them with full ones. “Um, kinda busy here.”

“I know, me too, but it’s an emergency. Please, pretty please meet me in the lounge in five?”

“Okay, but this better be good.” Tonya rolled her eyes and practically sprinted away to deliver her drinks.

A few minutes later, Tonya found Kylie warming up on her guitar in the employee lounge.

The waitress wiped her hands on her apron and folded her arms across her chest. “Really? Busiest night all week and you need me to listen to you play the guitar?”

Biting her lip so hard she almost drew blood, she took a deep breath and confessed. “I’m signed up for tonight. Think Clive will be pissed?”

Tonya sighed and dropped onto the couch beside her. “Well yeah, but only because the last girl who quit did the same thing. Met some big deal manager and is now on a hotel tour or something.”

“But there’s no rule against it, right?”

“No, there’s not.”

Unable to keep the grin off of her face, Kylie let loose a riff on her guitar. “Thank you, Jesus!”

“Well, I got Demonic Deb to watch my tables. She’s probably stealing my tips as we speak, so let’s hear something.”

“Really?” Kylie could feel her soul lighting up.

“Yeah, and hurry. We gotta get back out there.”

Kylie took a deep breath and launched into her song.
“Goodbye pride, it’s time I let you go. It’s hard to watch the place I love fade away, while holding on to what I know. But second chances and could’ve beens and things we should’ve said keep haunting me. Like ghosts of dreams passed with a grudge to hold, they just won’t let it be. It’s not like me to run away, to give up, or just leave town, but if I stay another day, this pride’s gonna drag me down.”
Kylie let the last chord hang in the air before picking up the tempo.

“Everybody’s got a story to tell, a friendly sin that they know real well. I ain’t ashamed to say that pride’s mine. Because the last time was the last time.”
Swallowing hard to push down the emotions her lyrics stirred, Kylie closed her eyes and kept singing.

“So goodbye pride, it’s time I let you go. Gonna let ‘em say what they’re gonna say, ‘cause I‘m the only one who knows. Pride’s a cheap shot in a tall glass, and if you drink it slow you think it’s gonna last, but I know better than that.”

Even caught up in her music, she knew she was probably singing loud enough to be heard in the hall, so she lowered her voice.
“Everybody’s got a story to tell. A love affair with a sin that they know real well, but pride’s not gonna be mine. The last time was the last time. This time I’m letting you go. This is the end of what could’ve been. Now I guess we’ll never know…”

She cut the song off before the last chorus and opened her eyes. “Well?” she asked, looking up at Tonya. Who had tears in her eyes. “Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?”

“That was beautiful, really. It was like you knew my whole life story, which you don’t, thank God.”

“Thanks.” Kylie beamed.

“But you can’t play that tonight,” Tonya said evenly, dabbing her tears away with a bar napkin.

Her heart sank into her stomach. “I can’t?”

“No.” Kylie watched Tonya’s eyes harden as she gripped her shoulder. “Listen to me, kid. I know a few things. Like for one, your life’s goal is probably not to be a waitress in a honky tonk. And for two, I know that all you really want is to make it big in country music like every other kid in this town, and that’s all fine and good and I’ll say I knew you when. Matter of fact, hold up, sign this napkin.”

Kylie’s mouth gaped open at her friend’s blunt observations. And she was seriously holding out a napkin and a pen. Slowly, Kylie took it and scribbled her name across it.

“But here’s what else I know. If you go play that sappy song that no one knows the words to, everyone will smile and nod and keep right on drinking. The managers and talent scouts that show will keep texting on their phones and someone somewhere might say, ‘That was a nice song,’ or ‘She was cute,’ and that will be it.”

“Okay, so…” Kylie was still too stunned to say much of anything. Tears threatened behind her eyes. This was the song she’d worked so hard on, put so much of herself into. Wasn’t it a good thing to be original?

“So you get your cute little butt out there, you sing some Taylor Swift or Kelly whoever cover, and you shake it up and make it your own so the audience can sing along while not comparing you to whoever really sings the damn thing.”

“Oh, is that all? Well, that should be a piece of cake. Thanks for the advice.” Kylie rolled her eyes and left them focused on the ceiling so her tears wouldn’t fall.

“Look, you can sing, you play good enough. You’re kinda sexy and all that stuff they want. I wouldn’t waste my breath or my time, Kylie, if you didn’t just blow me the hell away, but I know this town. If this was your first day of meeting with a label exec, I’d say bust that song out. But this is a bar, and you need to get their attention fist. The guys who come in here are looking for one thing. Acts that bring in money. People want to hear that song that makes them stand up and sing along and stay up drinking and partying all night. Think you can do that?”

Kylie swallowed hard, pushed her tears back behind her eyes, and forced a smile. She’d grown up without a mother. Buried the only man she’d ever loved less than a year ago. Lost everything in the blink of an eye. Surely she could do this. “Yeah. Yeah I can.”

“Good, ‘cause no matter what they call it, this shit ain’t for amateurs.” Tonya stood, offering her a weak smile before leaving Kylie all alone to figure out what the hell she was going to do.