The crowd starts to shout, pushing toward the stage. They are not happy. And I can’t say I blame them.
I motion to Logan, and he rolls his eyes as he walks toward the stage. The crew staggers the lead guitarist to his feet and lifts the guitar strap over his head, but he’s too wobbly to stand. Logan bends, shoves his shoulder into the man’s middle, and hoists him over his back. Logan winks at me as he walks toward the back of the bar and disappears behind a curtain. The band members are huddled in a circle, trying to figure out if they can continue or not without their lead guitarist.
My fingers twitch and I wiggle my feet, trying to keep away. But it’s impossible. I slide from the stool, my legs wobbly as I walk over, and very nonchalantly step onto the stage. My heart is pounding in my ears and I couldn’t utter a sound if I wanted to, my throat is so tight. But I pick up the abandoned guitar, slide the strap over my head, and look at the band members. I pull my pic out of my pocket and hover over the steel strings. One of them reaches to take the guitar from me. But I start to play before he can.
Sweet Child of Mine rolls off my fingertips, the sound of it filling the space, and the men step back, aghast at the little girl who’s playing the big boys’ guitar. Truth be told, it’s too big for me, but I don’t let that stop me. “We going to play or what, boys?” I yell. But I don’t stop playing, no matter what. The crowd is hooting, and I do a quick show for them.
The boys of the band all rearrange themselves, and the lead singer comes to me and asks, “What can you play?”
“I can play anything you can sing,” I say with a laugh. My blood is surging in my veins, and the rhythm of the music is taking me away with it.
“Can you be more specific?” he asks. But he’s smiling and watching my fingers as they fly around on the guitar. He shakes his head. “Never mind.”
He goes back to the mic and says, “We have a surprise for you, folks!” He motions toward me. “She’s a whole lot prettier than our usual lead guitarist, don’t you think?”
The crowd yells and claps. I keep playing, until I wind down Sweet Child of Mine. I stop and look up the lead, grinning. “What’s next?” I ask.
He raises a brow. “Hotel California?” he asks.
I nod. I was playing that when I was eight. But I wait for the drummer to pick up the beat, and then I fall in with it. Their bass guitar duels with me for a minute and then we find a rhythm.
I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Not since I left my band back home. I forgot how much I missed this.
We finish up the song and the lead singer mouths at me, “Welcome to the Jungle?”
I nod, laughing. I look out over the crowd and see Logan leaning against a post in the middle of the room. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his mouth is open slightly. I blow him a kiss and he shakes his head, smiling. Goodness, that boy is pretty. He gives me a thumbs up and walks away.
I wish I could share this with him, because this is the best feeling ever. The fans, the sound, the way I feel complete when I do this… there’s nothing that compares. I’m not scared. Not in the least bit. I love this. I love music. I love the guitar. And I’m afraid I’m a little bit in love with Logan.
Logan
I turn around to watch Kit as she plays. Her cheeks are all rosy, and she’s smiling. Every now and then, they give her a quick solo, and she strums the guitar, dancing around, her knees bending as she works it. By the way the crowd’s going crazy, I’d guess she’s really good at this.
I can feel the thump of the music in the floor and on the walls, and I stop and rest my hand on one of the speakers.
Kit’s hair is all wet, and her face is shining. She’s never looked more beautiful to me. This is obviously what she was born to do. And I can’t help but wonder why she’s busking in a subway for pennies rather than doing this full time. This is where her future lies. This is her passion.
I’m happy just watching her. And I have to keep reminding myself to keep an eye on the crowd, rather than both my eyes on her.
Someone chucks my shoulder and I look over to find Pete standing beside me grinning. “Damn, she’s good,” he says. He plays some air guitar, and I can’t help but laugh at him. He waves at me and says, “Hell, I’ll leave it to the pro.” He points a finger toward Kit. “Did you know she could do that?”
I shrug. I knew she could play. But they apparently think she’s really good. I motion to the crowd.
I watch as the lead singer walks toward Kit and says something in her ear. He’s shirtless and sweaty, and she brushes him away like he’s a pesky fly. He goes, but he’s laughing when he does it, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. I stand up taller.
“He’s not worth it,” Pete says.
I know. But I still don’t like it.
“You got it bad for this one, don’t you?” he asks. He’s smiling, but his question is serious.
I nod. I don’t need to say more than that. I do have it bad for this girl.
The band breaks, and Kit wipes her hairline with her forearm. The lead singer walks toward her, but I go that direction and hop onto the stage before he can get to her. He nearly bumps into my back. But he stops and goes the other way.
“Oh my God!” she says, excitement in her eyes as she jumps in place in front of me. “Did you see that?” she asks.
Then she grabs my shoulders, jumps, and wraps her legs around my waist. She kisses me. She tastes like root beer and excitement as she licks into me. I hold her ass, and jerk her tighter against me. The owner of the club waves and I catch him out of the corner of my eye. He jerks his thumb toward the back of the club. I nod and carry Kit in that direction. But she’s all hyped up on nerves and attitude. And she hasn’t taken her lips from mine. I carry her with her legs still wrapped around my waist into the storage room, and back her up against the wall. She’s tangling her tongue with mine, and I don’t ever want her to stop.