Page 80 of The Pucking Grump

BRIDGE TO BLISS

It’s a small bar, but I swear my fingers haven’t shaken this much while waiting to be called since the first time I started singing professionally.

“Next up, we have a very special performance. Trust me, folks, you’re going to want to see it. I say that as the biggest idiot in this place tonight. You know, since I mocked this singer the first time she was here.”

It’s the moderator. He turns and gives a wink in the general direction of where I’m standing, clothed by the shadows. I stare down at my trembling fingers. I’m a lot more prepared to sing at this bar tonight. For one, I brought my bodyguards. The people here are shockingly few, and most of them seem bored, but I know the news will spread on social media quickly, and very soon, hundreds of people will storm the place, searching for me. I know that several of my fans kept showing up in this town weeks after I left, hoping to run into me.

I pointed this out to Kevin when I asked for the guards. “You’re still not going to tell me where you are?”

“Nope.”

“Fine. Have it your way.”

I paused for a few seconds. I’d like to kid myself into thinking I was waiting for him to try to argue, but deep down, I know it was more than that. I was waiting for him to say something about Blake. Maybe about Blake potentially reaching out to him. It’s been a week now, and although I discarded my old phone, I was hoping Blake would try to reach me in other ways.

Kevin said nothing. I felt a burst of pain in my chest when I ended the call.

I still feel that pain now, standing in between the two massive men Kevin sent. It’s stupid, because I know I’m finally starting on the road to recovery. Soon—after a few months? Years?—I will let go of Blake. But right now, standing in the bar he brought me to, I can’t help but miss him.

“Faye Strummer, everyone!”

I brace myself for a resounding crash, but it still exceeds my expectations. The former disinterested crowd comes alive, people jumping to their feet and screaming. My bodyguards spring into action, forming a human blockade on both sides as I walk up to the stage on trembling legs. Two teenage girls in the front whip out their phones and start to record.

Good, I think. Make it a livestream. I want as many people as possible to know what I have to say, and as fast as possible.

“Thank you, everyone,” I say, with as broad a smile as I can muster. “I’m so happy to be back here tonight.” Why can’t my damn fingers stop shaking?

“We love you, Faye!” one of the girls screams. I notice she’s no longer recording me. Has she posted a snippet already? If so, I’ve got twenty minutes tops before the bar collapses because of people streaming in.

“Thank you.” I grin at her, and her face goes slack. “I’m here to sing a song. It’s a new one, actually. It’s going to be on my next album.” I make a mental note to apologize to Kevin about saying that last sentence before checking with him. Then I launch into the song.

Had my life in shades of black and white,

Studios dark, my walls all light,

Shuttling back, forth in my confined space,

Trapped in a loop, just a rat in a race.

But you walked in with a spectrum so broad,

Thanks to you, I’m painting colors I adore.

I see the pink in your smile bright,

Yellow warmth in your touch feels right,

Purple intrigue when you pay me mind,

Red in your leave, you’re one of a kind.

All these colors, now I see,

Do you notice them like me?

Hoped you’d see the pink flush on my face,

In your presence, my heart would race.

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