Page 31 of Broken Instrument

He closes his eyes and leans closer to the mic, the same honey voice rolling over me. And that’s what does me in.

The sadness.

The mention of mistakes. Of sorrow. Of wanting to turn back time, only to acknowledge it isn’t possible, and your mistakes somehow gifted someone their dream. And how you can’t get it back. How it’s selfish to take it back. So you’ll bear the weight of it all. Alone.

He’s mourning.

For his previous life.

And it kills me.

As he hits the final notes of the song, he looks up at me again. His smile is pained. Hell, it’s tortured, but I keep my butt planted where it is, forcing myself to stay seated as I mouth, “Amazing,” back at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and throaty before muttering into the microphone, “Enough sad shit, yeah? Let’s play something a little more upbeat.”

The opening notes of “I Kissed A Girl and I Liked It” by Katy Perry ring throughout the bar, pulling laughter from the audience, and he dives right into the first verse. Pixie falls asleep on the stage, either used to Fender’s playing or meant to be on stage as his sidekick even though it’s a new role for both of them, until two more songs are played.

Someone in the crowd yells at him to take his shirt off, and a few people request Broken Vows’ hits, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of them. He simply plays. Just to play. Some are original songs, others are covers. But one thing’s clear. He was made to be up there. To entertain. To sing. To make people feel in a way only music can.

And he’s rocking it.

A little while later, he wipes his damp forehead with the back of his hand and checks the time on his phone, tucking it back into the front pocket of his jeans. Like we’ve witnessed a solid jam session in our friend’s basement instead of a mini-concert in the middle of a crowded bar.

Not gonna lie. It's hot as hell.

“All right, guys. My voice hasn’t had to sing this much in months, so I think we’re gonna call it a night. Thanks for showing up, though. You, uh, you definitely know how to make a guy feel welcome.” With a little wave of his hand and a final nod to a group of people in a booth near the front of the stage, he pats his leg and calls Pixie’s name. She follows behind him, ready to go wherever he leads her.

And even though I know he’ll probably come over to say hi to me in a minute, I already miss seeing him up on the stage.

Clearly, he belongs there.

11

FENDER

“You killed it!” Maddie practically screeches. I approach the booth where all my friends insisted on sitting when they found out I’d be performing, and she pulls me into a massive bear hug.

Since Sammie’s dating Hawthorne, and he’s the one who set up the performance, Sammie spilled the beans to my friends. She knew they’d want to be here to support me. I’m not mad she told them. I should be excited they’re here. But it feels weird. Like I’d disappoint them if I didn’t put on a Broken Vows show instead of a Fender Hayes show. Like, if I can’t live up to the guy they think I am––the party guy––I won’t be worth it.

And I know it isn’t true. In my gut, I know they love me and want me to be happy. I know they could see me spiraling and wanted me to get help. I know they liked me before the drugs. Before I felt the need to always put on a happy face.

But knowing something in your head and feeling it in your gut are two different things. The latter will take some time, I guess.

Jake and his girlfriend, Evie, each take their turns congratulating me, and Milo slaps me on the back and says, “Good to have you back, Fen.”

I squeeze the back of my neck, caught between the old Fen and the new one. Because being onstage? It felt good. I felt like myself again. It’s a problem, though, isn’t it? Or maybe it’s not a problem. Maybe it’s okay to be me. Just…the new and improved version. If I can help it.

“Yeah. It’s, uh good to be back, I guess.”

“Your new stuff. You write it?” he prods.

I nod.

“It’s good. Different,” he clarifies. “But really good.”

“Yeah, Sonny better watch out. I have a feeling you’re gonna give him a run for his money,” Jake adds.

With a snort, I shake my head. “There’s a reason I left Sonny to write the music for Broken Vows, man––”

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