Up in Smoke (Hotshots 4)

Not that he’d had the friend group, but he’d certainly had the days when any audience, any gig was a huge milestone and when the pressure to make it wasn’t a thing. Felt nice, being back in that position, no expectation for the night other than to play a song or two. It was too late for coffee, but he ordered an Italian soda to give the place a little business.

“You playing tonight?” The barista was younger than him with hipster glasses and a pierced nose. He was cute, but Shane’s body apparently had a one-track mind lately that compared everyone to Brandt and found them lacking.

“Yep. Got a slot in about thirty minutes. Figured I’d check out some of the other music first.”

“You look familiar.” The barista cocked his head. “Did you play the Brownsville country festival last summer? One of the side stages maybe?”

“That I did. So early in the day, I wasn’t sure much of anyone noticed.” He laughed. Being recognized was still rare and always a little odd.

“Kinda cool, you deciding to play for us.”

“Kinda cool, you having a stage.” Shane gave him a smile as he collected his drink and found a table. Another time, another city, and he might continue to chat up the kid, but his fixation on Brandt had him decidedly off his flirting game. The coffeehouse hadn’t had as many takers for their open mic night as some places, so they were doling out ten minute or two song slots that night. He waited through a middle-age dude with a banjo and then a painfully young girl with first-timer nerves and a paper-thin voice.

“You did real good,” Shane said to her as she passed his table. She blushed all the way up to her pale hairline and hurried back to her parents, who were in matching shirts and had that sort of unconditional proud and wholesome vibe that Shane had little familiarity with. Would Jewel grow up that loved? That supported? He hoped like heck she did.

The baby was still on his mind when his name was called. Figuring the crowd might lean a little more folk than country, he’d decided to open with a cover, a favorite oldie that straddled the genre line. It was one he’d performed hundreds of times, but before, the girl in the song had always stayed vague. But as he sang, he kept thinking about Jewel, all those hopes he had for her and that tightness in his chest every time he thought about leaving.

Another layer of emotion that hadn’t been there a week ago, and it gave him something new to draw on as he went into his other song, one of his that he’d written over the winter in Nashville. He loved the familiar covers, but there was no thrill quite like doing his own material. And he could tell by the applause and his own racing pulse that he’d nailed it. Maybe this whole baby-watching thing agreed with him.

“Hey, man. Great set.” A guy around Shane’s age greeted him as he made his way back to his table and his guitar case. The guy had a ponytail and vaguely familiar eyes. “My brother told me the place had a real one tonight. We saw you in Brownsville. You’ve got something.”

Ah. The flirty barista’s older brother. That made sense. Kinda cute, the kid being excited enough to tell his sibling.

“Thanks. Appreciate it.” Shane let the guy give him a handshake after he stowed the guitar.

Uninvited, he took the other seat at Shane’s table. On the stage, a young duo with guitars was murdering a perfectly good seventies ballad. “You in town for a while or just passing through?”

“Both maybe? Why?”

“I’m in a county cover band with a regular gig at a steakhouse in Bend. I’m Tim by the way. And we had to take this weekend off because our lead singer is battling some vocal cord issues.”

Shane made a sympathetic noise. “Sucks.”

“Yep. If you wanted to sit in with us next week, I can speak for my buddies and say we’d be honored to have someone of your level.” Tim’s eager tone made Shane’s ego take notice, made him itch to play again.

“Been a minute since I’ve played with a full band, but sure. I’m interested. Gig pays?”

“You get your dinner comped plus we split a fee.” Tim’s crooked grin said it wasn’t a big take, but Shane was used to that. “And there’s a tip jar. Not much, but we’re not asking you to jam for free.”

“Okay. Let me see what I can arrange as far as my schedule. Let’s make this happen.”

They talked awhile longer, worked out some logistics while Shane ate a sandwich as a late dinner. He left all amped up. An actual gig. It had been a while. After he got things set for the baby, he might need to think about getting on with a new booking agent because he sucked at landing things for himself. But this thing sounded promising. A little cash wouldn’t hurt either.