Fear of Falling(71)

“Nope.”

“Alright… whatever you say, Kam.”

I returned my attention to the growing line of thirsty customers and awaited the first singer to be announced. Luckily, she was decent, choosing to do a rendition of “Heartbreaker” by Pat Benatar. I could tell Angel was itching to grab the mic and kill it. She was a huge fan.

The acts gradually improved, and it seemed that Dive’s Open Mic Night was proving to be lucrative. I was happy for Blaine. He had explained to me that he had actually bought the bar from his Uncle Mick when he returned to Charlotte a bit over a year ago. The economy hadn’t been kind to the family-run business, and the place needed tons of cosmetic work. Blaine had been sitting on a large health insurance settlement from his mother’s death and decided to bail his uncle out of the quickly piling debt. He fixed it up, added some new staff members, and gave it a new, updated image. Though I had only known him for a matter of weeks, I was proud of his dedication. He was young, successful and driven. He was everything people expected him not to be.

“Alright Dive,” Angel’s seductive voice sounded through the speakers a couple hours into the evening. “This next act is one of our own. She’s a badass vocalist and crazy sexy on the strings. And, she is drop-dead lickable. Put your fucking hands together, Dive, for my girl, Kami!”

The bar erupted into cheers, every head turning to look at me with expectation. That’s when I realized what had just happened. Holy. Shit. I was going to kill Angel!

I tried to shake my head “no,” but the entire place was already chanting my name. Blaine had even abandoned his customers to come stand beside me, wearing a reassuring grin and nodding his support. The roar of the crowd, the lights, the dozens of eyes looking at me in expectation… I couldn’t deal. But I couldn’t lose it. I wouldn’t lose it.

I looked to the man next to me, who gazed at me like I was the only person that existed in the crowded bar, and took a cleansing breath. I could do this. I could block out every face and focus on him. I could pretend like I was giving him his very own private concert in his bedroom. And afterward, he would lead me to his bed and make me sing his name in every octave of my vocal range.

On trembling legs, I made my way to the stage, the spotlights causing tiny beads of sweat to form on my nose. Angel was beaming with pride, and even Dom was in the front row, still dressed in his work clothes.

“I am sooo gonna kill you, bitch,” I whispered between clenched teeth when I approached her on the stage.

“You’ll thank me for it later, slut,” she winked. Then she skipped to the back of the stage and retrieved my guitar. This had been premeditated! That whore was as good as dead!

I looked out at the sea of people growing restless as I tried to figure out my next move. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t do this. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t my life. This was Angel’s. People like me didn’t perform in front of crowds. We didn’t sing and play for perfect strangers. I couldn’t do this. Oh my God, I couldn’t.

My eyes swept over to the bar, finding Blaine’s smiling face. He looked so proud and excited for me. There wasn’t a trace of doubt on his face. He had faith in me. I didn’t want that faith to be wasted. I wanted to give him a reason to be proud of me.

I looked down at Dominic, my best friend in the whole world, who wore a similar expression. He had never made me feel like I was damaged goods. He understood me, and he loved me. If anyone knew courage, it was him. And right now, he was channeling it all to me in the depths of his comforting smile. If Dom believed in me, then maybe I could do this.

A small hand squeezed mine, and I realized that Angel had never left my side. She nodded, telling me that I was ok with the simple gesture. She really was a good friend to me. She had overcome so much pain and rejection in her life, yet found a way to get on stage and belt her heart out like she didn’t have a care in the world. She was fearless, and I longed for just an ounce of her confidence.

“I’ll be right here with you,” she whispered. “We’ll do this together, ok?”

I nodded and slowly positioned myself on the stool in front of the microphone. This was it. This was what I had always secretly dreamed of doing, but was too afraid to try. This was my moment to kick fear in the ass. And I wanted to share it with the three people in this bar that had come to mean more to me than anyone in this world.

I strummed the first chords of the only song that was on my heart at the moment. It wasn’t the song I had rehearsed with Angel. It wasn’t a legendary classic rock anthem. It wasn’t even a sappy love song. The song I chose to play was undoubtedly me. So much so, that I cried for days the first time I heard it. Because I wanted it. I wanted exactly what the lyrics of that song boasted.