Page 87 of A Country Kind Of Love
“Well, I’m hoping so. This one’s a little more complicated.” Jesse holds the door open chivalrously waiting for Peyton to pass through. The smell of Mrs. Perez’s cooking prompts her to remember her stomach is empty. The grumble is enough to set off a tremor warning. The nervous energy has taken away her appetite until now.
“I should eat.” Peyton sniffs the air. “Is she making her famous...”
“Spanish garlic mushrooms,” they say in unison.
“God, they’re good.” Jesse locks the door behind them. “Let’s drop in at Cook Out on the way; we’ve got time.”
“Perfect.”
The idea of a corn dog and some cheese bites fills her mouth with saliva. She will perform in less than two hours.
?
The queue to the right of the Bluebird entrance is at least twenty people deep, with more country music fans hoping for a cancellation. The iconic café is tucked away in a tiny strip mall next to a hair salon. The curb appeal is nothing special, but inside the magic of the famous acoustic venue consumes Peyton.
The tables fill fast whilst a young man performs a routine sound check. A woman in her forties approaches them with a big grinon her face.
“Jesse, it’s good to see you.” She extends her hand. “You mustbe Peyton.”
“Yes.”
“I’m Ellie. I’m in charge of booking the talent for events here at the Bluebird.”
“Nice to meet you, Ellie,” Peyton says. She wants to say,Enjoy the V-class, but she refrains. “I can’t believe how many people are queuing outside.”
“You get used to that. Some nights it’s twenty people, other nights it can be fifty. Tickets are hard to come by these days.” Ellie gets a thumbs up from the sound check guy. “Let me show you to your table. Is it just the two of you tonight?”
Peyton looks up at Jesse. “There might be a thirdjoining us.”
Her eyes narrow. What ishe planning?
“Okay, I’ll seat you to the right of the stage. It’s all quite informal. You’re third up tonight, so roughly 7:15 p.m. I will come over and give you a nudge.” Ellie is summoned by a member of the bar staff. “I need to go, but I’ll get someone to come and take your drink orders. Please, take a seatand relax.”
For Peyton that is easier said than done.
“Thanks, Ellie,” Jesse chimes.
She saunters off, ducking and weaving through the customers trying to findtheir seats.
A white menu style card in clear Perspex plastic sits in the centre of the table. On closer inspection, she spots her name along with four others. Her stomach drops.
“I’m scared,”she admits.
“I know, but you’re going tobe amazing.”
Over the next thirty minutes the venue fills almost to capacity. Peyton sips at her iced tea and waits patiently for her opportunity. She doesn’t recognise anyone around her. There are several other musicians with guitar cases, and the intrigue is high. The Bluebird is famous for well-known songwriters passing through and playing chart-topping hits. The customers are curious too. She can feel eyes watching her. They’re wondering who she is, what she’s going to sound like, and whether or not she’s connected to any big artists. Peyton is wondering the same thing about the other musicians.
Jesse reaches for his phone again. He won’t disclose who or why he’s been so popular since they arrived. The door opens and closes with a slam. In walks Shonda. The bar staff know who she is, as do the musicians. Their demeanours change. Shonda acknowledges Peyton with a split-second nod and seats herself to the leftof the bar.
“Damn, I was really hoping she might not come,” Peyton whispers.
“No such luck.” Jesse smirks.
I hate you, Peyton mouths.
She can barely concentrate on what’s happening around her as the first artist takes the stage. According to the set list her name is Levi Turner. She has a modulated voice. Her range and control are pleasant to listen to, and Peyton automatically starts to compare herself to Levi.
Is Peyton that good?
