Page 69 of A Hard Sell

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to push you. It’s… You’re very talented. Just something to think about.”

Luka blushed and changed the subject. Thomas let him.

When he was in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, Thomas’ words echoed through his head. “You’re very talented. Just something to think about.”So he thought.

Whatifhe performed again? What if the idea of standing in front of a crowd with a guitar didn’t make him break out into a cold sweat? What if he got to share this art with the world, too? The more he thought about it, the more he realized that this was exactly what he loved about his job—the chance to make something that connected with other people on a primal level. What was more primal than music? Then the magnitude of what he had been suppressing for almost twenty years hit him. He was letting the memory of a handful of children dictate his behavior. He was lettingthem—bullies who likely didn’t even remember him at all, hadn’t thought about him in years—determine what he did with his art.Fuck them.

He grabbed his phone and navigated to Jitters’ webpage. He clicked ‘Open Mic Night’, then ‘Sign up’.

* * * *

“I signed up.” The words burst out of him the second he saw Thomas the next morning.

Thomas knew what he was talking about right away. “You did? Luka, that’s incredible!”

“Thanks. They were pretty full, though—not until March fourth.” He ran a hand through his hair. He had stared at the ‘Submit’ button for a good twenty minutes before clicking it. Then he had spent half the night wondering how hard it would be to unsubmit. It was probably going to be a disaster, but he had done it. Because fuck them.

“I can’t wait!” Thomas pulled out his phone.

Luka realized he was adding it to his calendar. “I, uh… God, I’m so sorry, but…is it okay if you don’t come?” He knew he would be a hot mess his first time and he couldn’t bear the thought of Thomas seeing him go down in flames.

“Oh.” He put his phone down. “Yeah, I mean, of course. If you don’t want me there, I won’t come.”

Luka didn’t think he was imagining the hurt look in Thomas’ eyes. “It’s just that I’m scared I’ll mess up, and I don’t want you to see that. Let me just get a couple under my belt before you come to watch.”

“Yeah, of course. I understand.”

Of course he did. “Thanks.”

* * * *

If signing up was the first step, the second was deciding what he was going to play. They only let performers do two songs for their first time. Luka scribbled down the titles on a sticky note. Seeing them in writing made it a little more real. He chose covers, of course. Crowd pleasers. Some Fleetwood Mac and, his favorite, the Beatles. One step at a time. Now, practicing.

He gripped his guitar and stood in his living room. Closing his eyes, he imagined a room full of faces staring at him. His stomach curled into a ball. Then he imagined the faces were all Thomas, watching him with bright eyes, cheering him on. He strummed a few chords and ran through the set for Thomas.

* * * *

As January rushed by, they shot their new commercial and began the editing slog. One morning, as they were putting on the finishing touches, Thomas was restless and fidgety. His leg jittered as he typed. He tugged at his wolf cufflinks anytime he paused to frown at the screen.

“I talked to Ilona,” Thomas blurted. Then he kept typing, watching his screen intently.

Luka stopped and looked at him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I just… My last day will be March first.”

“Oh.” It hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt sick, the panic rising in his throat. “That’s…really soon.”

“Yeah.”

Luka was alarmed to feel tears stinging his eyes. He had always known that Thomas would be leaving at some point in the near future, but having an actual date, and one so soon… He cleared his throat and uselessly clicked a few buttons on his screen, blinking.

“I’ll miss your show,” Thomas said, his voice rough. “I mean, I know I wasn’t coming, but I wanted to be here for you, wish you luck beforehand.”

Luka hadn’t even thought of that, but it was the least of his problems. “Right. That’s okay. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

“It’s not the same.”

“It’ll be okay.” Except nothing was okay.This is it,Luka thought.This is the end. He’s leaving.

---