Where to now?

I drove for a few hours until I saw the sun rising. I began to get tired, so I pulled over into a mall parking lot nearby. I curled up in my backseat and quickly fell asleep.

A few hours later, I woke up to a knock on my window. Some security guy telling me to leave. I obeyed, not wanting any issues.

I gazed at the sky in front of me and noticed that the sun would start setting soon. Damn, it’d been more than just a few hours, huh?

I check my phone. No notifications. I guess no one has realized I’d disappeared yet.

My stomach growled. I didn’t have a lot of money, really, but a man has to eat. Maybe there was a way I could earn a free meal?

I found a small, local bar. I’d obviously never been since the town was foreign to me and also I was only 18. They didn’t know the second part though. I lit a cigarette and popped it between my lips to try and suggest I was at least 21.

I entered the establishment and looked around. It was called Buddy’s Bar. It had a bit of a country aesthetic, but maybe that’s just because almost everything was wooden. There were only a few people inside, one of whom was an old man working the bar. I made a guess that that was Buddy.

“Are you Buddy?” I asked him.

He looked me up and down. He seemed like a soft soul, but his eyes had a certain sharpness to them. “Yeah, I’m Buddy. What do you need?”

“My name is Michael Chase. I’d like to play at your bar tonight.” I gestured to the stage at the back of the bar.

He shook his head. “Sorry, son, but Greg is already playin’ tonight. Can’t just give you his time.”

A man, who I assume is Greg, wobbled over to the bar. He looked about as old as Buddy. “Nah, Bud, let the kid play! Besides your granddaughter, no young-ins ever perform.”

Buddy looked at Greg. “You sure? It’s your slot, you have first dibs.”

Greg shrugged. “Is it not our job as elders to make room for the new generation?”

Buddy chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.” He turned his direction back to me. “Alright, I’ll let ya play. If you blow it, I’m putting Greg back on though. The regulars expect him to be on, so you better be able to impress ‘em.”

I nodded.

“What do you play, anyway?”

“My own stuff.” I replied.

He shook his head. “No, that ain’t gonna work. This crowd wants covers. Can you do any Cash?”

I shook my head.

“Dylan? Nelson? Jennings?”

I shook my head to them all.

He sighed. “Alright, what can you play?”

“I could do… uh… some Nirvana?”

He clicked his tongue. “Try and stick to the slower stuff; make sure you do ‘Man Who Sold The World’… and that should work.”

“Do I get paid?”

He laughed. “Paid?! You walk into my bar, ask for a gig and payment on a whim?”

I nodded.

“Best I can do is a free drink and lend you a jar for tips. You do good, and you’ll earn some cash.”

I accepted his deal.

I got a beer and sipped it as I set up my guitar and got comfortable on the stool. It tasted like shit. Maybe I’d grow to like them, like my dad seemed to. Buddy helped me set up the microphone.

By the time we’d set up, the sun had set and more costumers had come in, a few looking at me on stage. Some wary of me not being Greg, some interested at the new, young blood.

What none of them knew is that I’d never performed in front of a crowd in my life.