Page 42 of Numbers Boy
“Of course I’m sure,” Blake says, clicking onFellowship. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it.”
“Okay,” Steve agrees, settling back into his spot as the opening sequence starts. “I’ve seen this a million times, so I’m probably going to be talking a bunch. Just let me know if you want me to stop.”
Neither of us has a problem with that, and when Blake jumps in with the fact that Sir Ian McKellen actually hit his head in one of the scenes, he and Steve start swapping trivia throughout the film. Overall, the night goes quickly, filled with laughter and making me glad these two finally got to meet.
MY GIG THEnext night is at a bar I’ve never been to before. When I get there, I don’t see anyone who looks like they’re in charge, so I head to the bar to chat with one of the two people working there. In my experience, if you don’t know something, the bartenders can always point you in the right direction. As I get closer, I watch as the guy making drinks masterfully fends off a flirty patron and still gets a sizeable tip. Now, that’s talent.
I slide onto an empty stool near his end of the bar, and the guy turns my way. He’s got a polite smile on, but his light blue eyes are guarded until he takes in the guitar case slung over my back. Then his smile brightens, and he holds out a hand.
“You must be Noah,” he says as we shake. His voice is soft but strong enough to be heard over the din of the patrons around us. “I’m Mark. Our manager Kimberly said you’d be here around this time.”
“Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you, Mark. Is there a spot I can put my jacket and case, or is it just on the stage?” I’ve performed at places that have done it both ways, but I always feel a little bit more welcomed and put together when my stuff isn’t cluttering up the performance space.
“Absolutely.” Mark nods and turns slightly toward his fellow bartender. “Hey, Zoe, I’m going to show Noah where he can store his stuff and make sure he’s got everything he needs for tonight. You good for a few?”
“No problem, Mark. Go ahead and take your fifteen when you’re done, too.”
Mark nods an acknowledgment and then slips out from behind the bar top. I follow a few steps behind him as he leads me to a back storage room, which he unlocks with a key that he grabs from his pocket.
“Feel free to leave whatever you want back here. Kimberly and I are the only ones with the key, so you shouldn’t have to worry about anything getting stolen.”
“Thanks, Mark, I appreciate it.” I send him a smile that he returns.
“No problem. I’ll let you get settled, but let me or Zoe know if there’s anything else you need. The mic and amp on stage should be all set to go.”
“Awesome.” I nod my thanks again, and Mark leaves to take his break. Once I stash my stuff and do a quick tune, I head back out to the main room of the bar and get everything plugged in so I can check sound levels. Like Mark said, the sound system is ready to go, so it doesn’t take long before I start my set.
I always love seeing how a crowd is going to react to a live performer as they chat and drink. I’ve had pretty much every reaction there is, from politely disinterested to loudly invested in what I play next. The people here are some of my favorites. They don’t heckle or shout out requests, but they applaud aftereach song, and every so often, I get a cheer. Soon, I’m sinking into the feel of playing, my voice and fingers working as one to tell the stories of the songs I choose. I smile to myself and let my eyes close as I strum the opening chords of a song that I haven’t played around with in years.
“Can’t Help Falling in Love” pours out of me, a fairly easy tune to play, so as I sing, I allow my mind to wander to Steve. I hope he gets just as much of an adrenaline high when he goes on stage tonight. I know he said Eve is just a backup dancer this evening, but I can’t imagine anything Steve does that doesn’t demand attention.
Just as I’m finishing singing about the inevitable fall into love, and isn’t that the fucking truth, I notice Mark with his phone pointed in my direction. Bars usually want photos for their social media pages and other random things, so I don’t think much of it. I just take a sip from my water bottle and start my next tune. Song fades into song, easily filling my allotted time, and then I’m heading offstage. Mark meets me halfway to the storage room, a curious expression on his face.
“What’d you think?” I ask with a grin, amped up from my set.
“You’re really good,” he says kindly. “I hope you don’t mind that I took some photos as you were up there.”
It’s sweet that he’s checking, and I quickly affirm that it’s fine. Between the bars’ socials and people wanting to share their evenings, I’m used to it. “Not at all. I kind of assume there will be some sort of photographic evidence each time I play.”
“Okay. Well, thanks for playing for us tonight. I know Kimberly likes reliable acts, so I’m sure she’ll be in touch in the future.”
With that, he leaves once again, and I quickly pack up my case. On my way out to my car, I check the time on my phone, surprised to see a text waiting for me from Steve.
Princess: You look fucking hot up on stage *winky face emoji* *flame emoji* *image attached*
I tap the picture to enlarge it and huff a laugh when I see what it is. It’s a shot of me playing. From the angle, it looks like it was taken from the direction of the bar. I bet I can guess who’s responsible. I shake my head, a smile playing on my lips.
Me: You know Mark?
Princess: Yeah, he’s another Working Boy. Small world, huh?
Me: Please don’t get that song stuck in my head lol. How’s your night going?
Princess: It’s good! The number was super fun, but we were early in the show. So now I was just going to hang around and watch everyone else
Princess: Unless…
His messages come through quickly, and my cock perks up at his unfinished text. If he’s anything like me, performing will have him worked up and looking for an outlet.
