Page 9 of One More Weekend

I knew her words weren’t really an affirmation, more an acknowledgment.

Lifting my eyes to hers, I sighed. “I guess I can’t really decide anything until the lease is up in September. But maybe it will be time for a change.”

Before Sy could respond, the students hopped off stage and left the microphone for my solo. Taking a big swig of the Mule, I winced as the liquor hit my tongue.

“Good luck.” Sy managed as I walked toward the stage.

Over my shoulder, I winked back at her in her thrifted t-shirt. I’d bullied her into buying it because it made her biceps look amazing. And then I proceeded to make her wear it to LesbianNight at The Woods in Brooklyn. It had worked wonders, a few women crowding around her and taking sneaky feels of her arms as they flirted.

Every time they did, she lifted her gaze to me across the bar and shook her head – a cheeky smile playing at her lips.

Stepping up to the platform, my song started to play with the lyrics listing out on the digital screen overhead.

If this was all New York had to offer, I couldn’t be sure it was worth sticking around. Even if it meant leaving my darling Sy.

That alone might kill me.

But how would I know if I never tried?

7

SY

A droning stringtwinkled at the back of the bar as a light piano cued Jenna to begin. She hummed the opening lines, long locks of light brown hair falling over her shoulders.

“It’s raining, it’s pouring. My love life is boring me to tears after all these years.”

I knew it was the Barbra Streisand and Donna Summers duet,No More Tears (Enough is Enough). A classic ballad, Jenna only ever pulled it out when she was getting over someone.

Or maybe she was getting over somewhere. The thought made my chest contract like a snake had wrapped itself around my entire body as I watched her sway to the beat.

Taking her time, Jenna took in a deep breath and let her voice soar. “I’d always dreamed I’d find the perfect lover. But he turned out to be like every other man.”

A shiver ran down my spine as she hit the note. It was easy to forget what she’d originally come to the city for. Moving all the way across the country with hopes of being a singer. She’d had big plans.

But she changed her major, decided something more practical and business-minded would be better.

Her eyes fell on me as she gestured her hand to me. “There’s nothing left for us here.” She smiled as she let her voice lower an octave.

Looking at me, a smile on her lips, she prepared for her big line. Starting low and ending high, Jenna put her all into Bab’s final ballad line. “And we won’t waste another tear.”

Before the note could end, the groovy beat picked up to a 70s disco vibe. Jenna took on the duet like it had always been meant to be a solo. Seamlessly, she moved intoEnough is Enough,hopped off the stage with the mic, and paraded around the bar.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Dancing around the sticky, wood floors, Jenna was bringing everyone into her moment. She’s electric.

The smile on my face kept growing. I couldn’t have asked for a better best friend. If everyone had been as lucky as I was, no one would ever feel alone, or scared, or bored.

Jenna stepped onto a stool by the bar and held the mic out to Bennie, who obliged her with an “Enough is enough is enough.”

Keeping it moving, Jenna winked at me as she whisked past. Her sweet smell somehow cut through the sweaty, alcohol smell of Winnie’s Bar and wafted into my nose.

She jumped back onto the platform for her final notes. “Goodbye mister, goodbye sugar. No more tears.”

As I watched it dance out the last few bars of the song, my mind flooded with an idea. I couldn’t let her leave this city, our city. Not like this. Not in defeat like she’d been pushed off by a brutal, gnarly industry that refused to make room for her.

I had to show her that there wassomethingleft for her here.

Her song came to an end to an uproarious applause from the twice-impressed college kids. Throwing in my claps, I watchedher come back to the table. She wiped the thin layer of sweat from her brow. “How’d I do?”

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