Ridin' Dirty: An Outlaw Author Anthology (OAMC Book 1) (53 page)

29 days and counting...

I was waiting at the corner to cross the street when the loud rumble of a car engine caught my attention. Turning my head towards the sound, I saw a blue older model Chevy Camaro pulling into the parking lot of a building across the street. Curious, I followed the car’s movement, waiting to see who would step out. A tall, muscular man with skin the color of warm caramel stepped out of the car and strode to the buildings front doors. He shook hands with another man who looked like he’d been waiting. They exchanged words briefly, then the man I’d been fixating on smiled as he turned his head while surveying the area.

Even from that distance I could see he was handsome with bright white teeth and a special air of confidence. My breath caught when his gaze stopped on me. Immediately I looked away to avoid eye contact, and to my horror, everyone else had nearly finished crossing the street. Feeling silly, I hurried forward as cars honked impatiently for me to get out of their way. After safely making it to the other side, I gave into the urge to look for the stranger. To my relief and utter disappointment, he was gone.

***

“Annette?” A male voice barked, snapping my attention away from the girl who was gyrating on the stage ahead. The Jumpstart was my third stop that day in search of a singing gig. Rumors said it was a place for miscellaneous talent, however, I didn’t realize that meant anything goes. Not wanting to look like a prude I finished the information form and handed it over to the bartender as confidently as I could.

“Anyone out here named Annette?” I lifted my eyes to see the man who was driving the blue Camaro earlier looking around impatiently.

“Here!” I shouted and stood. “I’m here. I’m Annette.” I’d made the decision that morning to shorten my name slightly to Annette because it sounded much more mature than Annetta, plus Mama was the only one who used my full name. To everyone else I was Annie.

“Well, hurry up and get in here.” The man waved his arm in an exaggerated manner and then disappeared into the doorway. My knees knocked together nervously as I followed. This was much different from where I’d performed in the past, mostly hole in the wall places and family owned restaurants. A rogue waitress from the last place I visited whispered that I should check out the Jumpstart if I wanted to make “serious” cash.

Before reaching the doorway, I quickly wiped the beads of sweat on my upper lip before entering the room. The man was sitting on the edge of his desk and scanning my information form. The office was small with papers covering the desk and filing cabinets lining the wall to the left of it. There was a tiny open space in the middle of it all but nowhere for me to sit.

“How old are you, Annette?” The man asked without looking up. He had to be in his mid-twenties and was wearing a nice pair of designer jeans that looked brand new. His black hair was cut very close to his skin and thick eyelashes that curled back in a way that most girls would envy.

“I’m, uh, twenty-one.” I swallowed to help my dry throat and twisted my fingers nervously.

“What sort of music do you play?”

“Mostly blues covers but I can do just about anything.” He gave a quick nod, looking satisfied with my answer.

“Hmph. Where are you from?”

“Haventown. Why?”

“That’s up north, near Clemson, right?” He lifted his eyes to me and I nodded. “Columbia is a good ways from home,” he mumbled with a shrug then looked over the form a bit longer. “Take off your jacket.” He commanded as he tossed my application onto the desk behind him.

“Huh?”

“Take. Off. Your. Jacket.” He repeated slowly, looking annoyed.

“Why do I need to take my jacket off?”

“Listen, sweetheart, you wanna play at this club?”

I nodded.

“Then I gotta see what we’re working with here,” he gestured his hand down my body. “Take off the jacket.”

I gulped before doing as he asked. Keeping my eyes low, I shrugged off my worn denim jacket and then draped it over my arm. He was silent for a moment, too silent, and when I raised my head to look at him, he was grinning.

“I don’t give a shit if you’re a lousy singer; you’ll get ’em in the door. You’re hired. Go to the bar and see Tammy for your schedule.” Then he gave me another long scan from head to toe before shooing me away. I shrugged on my jacket and backed out of the room. I was halfway down the corridor before I spun around and stormed back to the office. I managed to stop just in time to avoid a collision as he rounded the corner. At that close proximity, he towered over me by at least a foot, and boy, did he smell nice. After blinking several times, I remembered my reason for returning.

“So that’s it? You don’t need to hear me play or ask about my previous experience? You just hire me on the spot like that?” I asked, then stepped back to create a little distance. Those annoying beads of sweat were forming on my upper lip again.

He stared down and scanned my face briefly.

“Darlin, this ain’t the Grand Ole Opry. Either you’ll do well or you won’t.” He shrugged and moved past me. “If the customers don’t like you, you’re out. Doesn’t matter what I think.”

I stared after him as he sauntered away. Part of me did want to know what he thought, even if he was just a stranger, although an interesting stranger. I left the club feeling perplexed, yet grateful to have a paying gig. At least, I’d succeeded in the first step of my plan. As for the rest, I’d have to figure that out as I went.

Being on stage was the only time I felt I had something special to offer. It was an unexpected talent I’d stumbled upon when I was fourteen. My aunt Sandy, who had always been a drifter, had left a bunch of junk in Mama’s attic, and Mama being the clean freak that she was, didn’t store the stuff for long. I remember sitting in a folding lawn chair, bored out of my mind listening to people negotiating lower prices for stuff that was already pretty dirt cheap.

Absently, I reached over and grabbed an old, worn guitar that was propped against the table and began to idly strum. I didn’t realize that I was keeping time with the song on the radio. Until that moment, I’d never had any desire to learn or play music. I could hold a tune but wouldn’t have considered myself a great singer. After a little more playing around, then sneaking off with the guitar, I hid it under my bed. For weeks I carried it out into the woods and played, at first because I’d been hiding it from Mama. When she finally did discover it, the only place I could go was into the woods because she didn’t want to hear my “noise” in the house.

I didn’t know how to read sheet music or the proper names for different chords but soon realized I had a musical ear. With a little time and practice, I could play back most tunes. Aunt Sandy was pissed with Mama for selling her stuff, especially when she learned that all of the profits went to the church, but she did allow me to keep the guitar. It used to belong to an ex-boyfriend so she wasn’t all that attached to it. She also said that I had a natural talent and it encouraged me to continue to learn. Perhaps, in the beginning, I had ambitions of becoming a famous singer like Janis Joplin but realized I didn’t have the drive or knowledge to make a serious career out of it. All I wanted to do was play music.

It was how I’d earned money the past couple of years. Traveling from town to town, finding gigs. Jimmy hated it. My ability to earn money by just, “fucking around with a guitar,” burned him up. Sometimes my earnings carried us through while he was hunting for his next “big job”. It wasn’t an easy way to make a living but I was good at it.

***

23 days and counting...

My first week at the Jumpstart went by in a blur. I needed a whole lot of money and only had thirty days to earn it. I was paid a salary based on the number of people who came in the door on nights I performed. This meant I had to work on self-promotion. There were a few other places I’d go to before my 10 pm set began every night. Places where I knew I could gain an audience and attracting attention wasn’t something I was shy about.

***

21 days and counting...

I slammed the pool stick forward and waited for the crack. Walking around the billiard table, I repeated the motion several times, fully aware of the show I was putting on. After taking a swig of my beer, I scanned the room looking for my next target. A group of college kids who looked barely old enough to drink were watching me with rapt attention. Flashing a flirty smile, I placed the beer bottle down, leaned over the table and purposely wiggled my backside as I made another shot. When I stood back up, all four men were crowded around me. By 9:30 pm, I had a group of men following me into the Jumpstart like I was the pied piper.

Feeling in the mood for a bit of Janis, I started my set with ‘Me and Bobby McGee’. I closed my eyes and tapped my foot in time as I sang the words. Ignoring the faces in the crowd always helped my confidence and allowed me to focus on the song. That was the funny thing about confidence. I couldn’t pick and choose what I was confident about. The people closest to me hadn’t been very supportive of me pursuing music but compliments over my looks were endless. I had no problem finding men who were interested in me physically however the rest of me didn’t matter all that much.

After the club closed, the employees and a few of the entertainers would occupy the place in the wee hours of the morning drinking and playing pool. A hodgepodge of misfit characters made up the nightly talent; singers, exotic dancers, and comedians. I didn’t have much else to look forward to, so I fell into their routine. The problem was—liquor, men and me never mixed well. 

Maybe if I’d spent enough time with a shrink he might tell me that I had “daddy issues”. I had a father, he was just gone all the time as an over the road truck driver. He’d be away for weeks at a time and when he was home, he and Mama were constantly at each other’s throats. While she turned to God for solace, Daddy turned to other women. When I was fifteen, he’d stopped making any efforts to come home and started shacking up with a girl in the next town over.

I wasn’t sure why, but as a teenage girl, I soaked up attention from boys, almost like a dying flower in the middle of the hot desert. I knew I was prettier than some of the other girls and used it to my advantage –often. I also always picked the wrong men. It was how I ended up with Jimmy.

Lips smacking against the side of my neck brought me to present. One of the college boys from the bar where I’d been shooting pool earlier was kissing me, and doing an awful job at it. I was sure if I thought about it hard enough I could remember his name. He’d been mildly interesting earlier but then again, they usually didn’t have to be all that smart to get very far with me. The scent of stale cigarette smoke and beer breath reminded me of what and who I was leaving behind—and why.

You don’t have time for this, Annie.

“Hey, um…” I put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back while I searched my memory for his name. “M-miii—
Michael?
”

“Manny?”

“Manny. Right.” I replied, relieved that I’d gotten the first letter right. “It’s getting late and I need to go.”

“Okay, sure. I can follow you back to your place.” He said and took a step back to pick up his jacket.

“Uh, well, see. I was just going to go home. Alone.”

“What?” Manny said, “You can’t be serious.” Yep, I could already see the scenario turning badly, so instead of replying I picked up my own jacket and started to make my way to the door.

“What are you, some kind of tease or something?” Manny grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “You were all over me a minute ago and now you’re ready to take off.”

“Let go of me.” I hissed as that all too familiar emotion crept its way in, fear and the intense need to protect myself.

“I’ll do what the fuck I want. You teasing me, bitch?” He growled back. That was it. That was all I needed to hear. Suddenly my fist came up and slammed into his nose. There was a crunching noise followed by a howl of pain before Manny dropped to the ground.

“Fuck!” He roared. “You just broke my fuckin nose, you slut!”

“I told you to let me go.” I snarled, trying hard to control my breathing. I was teetering on the edge of a panic attack and if I didn’t calm down, I was going to end up in a fetal position in the next few seconds. An enormous crowd gathered around me and the man with the blue Chevy Camaro I’d seen a few days ago was jerking Manny off the floor.

“Get the fuck up and get out of here.” The man growled as he shoved Manny around. He was twice the college boy’s size and looked intimidating as hell. Manny’s eyes grew wide before nodding his head. A couple of the kid’s buddies scooped him up and moved quickly to the door.

One of the girls from the table wrapped an arm around me and pulled me away. She was fussing over me and making sure I was okay. I felt fine, a little shaken but fine, so I nodded. When I looked back the man had turned his head in my direction at the same time. There was something in the way he looked at me, studying me like he was trying to figure something out. I resisted the urge to laugh like a lunatic. Hell, if he could figure me out, that would make one of us.