"I'm truly sorry for everything, especially about your sister. It's not fair. I know exactly how much it sucks to lose someone before their time." And because my emotions are flowing tonight, I add, "My mama sang. She wanted to be a star too, but Pop wouldn't let her step foot onstage after they got together. That's probably why she liked all those celebrities coming into the bar back in the day. I think it was her way of living vicariously through them because she'd never get the chance herself. I'll always wonder what would have happened if she'd left Pop and gone out on her own, instead of . . ."
I trail off as understanding dawns in Frisco's eyes.
"If Pop had known I could sing and had any ambition in that direction, he would've been even more cruel than normal. I think I knew that, even as a kid. So I buried it, because it doesn't make sense to have a dream when you know there's no chance of it ever coming true."
Frisco's expression softens. "You're not under your old man's thumb anymore, and you can't know whether it's gonna come true or not until you try."
I blink away a few drops of unexpected moisture gathering in the corners of my eyes. I refuse to call them tears.
"You're right, but at the moment, the only thing I need in my life is reality, not dreams. I need a paycheck so I can get my shit together. Maybe when I'm not sleeping on my best friend's futon anymore, I'll let myself do a little dreaming."
"Fair enough. Sorry I snapped at you, Rip. It's a tough subject for me."
"I understand. No apologies necessary, Frisco. I'll keep the beers coming."
I move down the bar to take more orders, but in the back of my mind, I'm stuck on the fact that Boone asked Frisco to watch out for me. When's the last time anyone cared enough to do something like that?
It doesn't matter. It's not happening.
But I can't deny the warmth buzzing through my veins.
11
Ripley
It doesn't take long for word to spread about my impromptu performance. Frisco obviously has more experience than I do with this. The video is already up on YouTube, and while it hasn't gone viral, I know from Hope's repeated checking that it's getting more hits than I'm comfortable with. While I sling drinks and voice after voice comes through the open mic, plenty of people come to the bar and wave their phones in my face, asking is this you?
I pretend I can't hear them over the music and ask for their drink order.
Working my way down the bar, I stop in front of the stool where Frisco has been parked all night, but an unfamiliar face looks up at me.
Where did he go?
I take the man's order as Frisco's voice comes over the speakers.
"I know I've been crashing here a little too often, but it's just 'cause I like y'all. Whatcha want to hear? I feel like doing a cover."
The energy changes in the White Horse like someone flipped a switch. People scream out requests, and I have to believe it's no accident that Frisco chooses one of Boone's songs.
"Shit. This place is going to turn into a madhouse again now that he's onstage. Get ready for it, girl." Hope hip checks me as she passes by with an armful of mixers to restock.
"I'm ready. Bring it."
I make drinks, getting lost in Frisco's voice and Boone's words. When Frisco finishes, the crowd screams and shouts, and he waits for them to quiet down before speaking into the microphone again. What he says next almost stops my heart.
"What about doing something a little different before I give up the mic to the next person in line? I've got a good friend here, and she can sing. I think it's time for a duet, don't you, Ripley Fischer?"
I'm gonna kill him. I felt bad for him an hour ago, but now I'm gonna kill him.
Frisco starts the crowd chanting "Rip-ley, Rip-ley," but I don't move from behind the bar until Hope stops beside me again.
"Well, you gonna go?"
I shake my head.
"Why not?"
"Because! I don't-"
"Come on, Ripley. We're all waiting for you."
I cover my face with a hand, but unless I duck out the back, there's no getting out of this.
"Just go. It'll be fine." Hope sounds like she thinks this is a good idea.
I might need to murder my best friend too.
I tug out the bar towel tucked into the back pocket of my jeans and drop it on the counter.
"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"
Hope's lips turn up in a smile. "You only regret the chances you don't take. Go for it, girl. Cat's already out of the bag, so what's the harm?"
You only regret the chances you don't take . . . God, I hope she's right.