Page 33 of Street of Dreams
Singing on Street of Dreams always brightened Mac’s spirits and renewed his ambitions. Whenever he felt down about his chances of making it in the music industry, this street gave him the boost he needed and reminded him to keep his eye on the prize. He’d always had a steady flow of people who dropped money in his case, but now that Skylar was his personal PR rep, his income doubled.
While he sang one of his originals, Skylar handed out free copies of CD’s, along with flyers listing his upcoming shows. People stopped and listened to him while they ate a tamale from Luis or a fruit cup from Edgar. When he was done, he got a round of applause. “Thank you,” he said humbly.
“That was a great song,” a guy said. “Who sings it?”
“I do. I wrote it.”
The guy looked surprised, as did a few other people.
“You write your own music?” a girl asked, flirtatiously.
“Yeah. This one is on my CD.”
Skylar quickly handed her a flyer and a CD, and the girl looked over the list of dates. “I’m going to come to your show next Saturday.”
“That’d be great,” Mac replied, enthusiastically. “Be sure to say hello.”
“I will.”
“You’re breaking hearts already,” Skylar joked, after the girl walked away.
“Just being friendly.” He continued with covers for the next twenty minutes. When he got to the chorus ofDeath by Rock and Rollby The Pretty Reckless, a familiar face joined the small crowd in front of him. So, he put on a show. He rocked his long hair back and forth and added an extra growl to his voice.
Jake stood with his arms folded across his chest and his weight on his left leg, one corner of his mouth pulled back into a cocky grin. When the song was over, and the crowd thinned, Jake chuckled softly at Mac’s overzealous performance and clapped slowly. “Was that for my benefit?”
“Shit, yeah. It’s not often that I get to play for South Side’s biggest critic. How’d I sound?”
Jake tugged on the chain that connected his wallet to his beltloop and dropped a fifty in the guitar case.
Mac did a double take. “Jake. Are you crazy?”
“I heard you were saving your money for bigger and better things. They don’t call this Street of Dreams for nothing.”
Mac quickly confiscated the bill and tried to hand it back to Jake. “I can’t take this.”
Jake held up his palm. “Take the money. I’m not always so generous.”
The statement was untrue. Jake had proved to be generous and kind, and Mac didn’t feel right about taking advantage. “You bought me those tires,” he whispered.
“I wanted to do something nice for you,” Jake whispered back. “I know I’ve been a real asshole and embarrassed you in the past. I’m not going to do that anymore.”
Skylar returned to grab more flyers and stopped with her mouth half open about to say something, as soon as she spotted Jake. He immediately tensed when he saw her and took a step back to create distance between himself and Mac. The two fixated on one another with an awkward stare, and there was uncomfortable silence for about five seconds before Skylar finally spoke.
“Um.” She started to rummage through the backpack on the ground next to the guitar case. “I just . . . I need more flyers.”
Jake scratched at the back of his neck while looking in every direction, refusing to make eye contact with either Skylar or Mac.
“Got ‘em.” Skylar took off without another word.
“What the fuck?” Jake demanded, his cheeks flushed. “You told her?”
“Calm down. I had to. She knew something was up.”
“You don’t get it. If word gets out—”
“She’s not going to say anything.”
“You don’t know—”
