The bartender gave a snort and swiped the coaster back. He bent down behind the bar, reappearing with a knife in one hand and a giant lemon in the other. AnnieLee watched as he started cutting the lemon and pitching the slices into the garnish station, next to a tray of crimson-dyed maraschino cherries. He didn’t look at her again or say another word.
Is that it? she wondered. Is he going to ignore me now?
She tapped her fingers on the bar as she glanced over at the singer, now playing the opening chords to a Garth Brooks number. No one in the room seemed to be paying much attention to him. AnnieLee wondered if he felt bad about being background music, or if being up there with a guitar and a microphone was reward enough. Because if he wasn’t enjoying himself sufficiently, she’d trade places with him in a heartbeat.
AnnieLee gave her hair a nervous flip. She knew she could shine on that stage—she just needed the chance. And Mr. Mustache here had to be the guy who’d give it to her, because her feet hurt too much to walk any more today.
She turned back to the bartender, who was now hacking away at a bunch of limes. She cleared her throat, but he still didn’t look up.
Her courage wavered. She had the songs, but she hadn’t prepared the sales pitch.
Listen, she said to herself, you didn’t carjack your way to Nashville to watch someone cut up a damn fruit salad, so you better open your big ol’ mouth and start talking.
“I’m sure you get people coming in here wanting to sing all the time,” she said to the bartender. “But I think I’ve got something that you’d really like to see.”
“Your titties?” The voice was a low, lewd growl, and it came from right behind her.
AnnieLee whirled around, heart pounding and hands curled into fists. An old man with gin-blossom cheeks took a wary step backward, even as he kept leering at her.
When she realized she didn’t know him, she unclenched her fingers. “Pig,” she said.
“Just a peek?” he asked, his voice pleading.
But the bartender had overheard him. “Oh, damn it, Ray, that’s it,” he yelled, snapping his towel at the old man. “You’re eighty-sixed. Go home.”
Ray blinked drunkenly. “But Billy—”
“Don’t make me repeat myself, you old creep,” the bartender said.
Suddenly chagrined, Ray looked over at AnnieLee. “I beg your pardon,” he said, bowing, and then he lurched away toward the door.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Billy said as he watched the old man leave. He filled a glass of water and set it in front of AnnieLee.
She was rattled, but she did her best not to show it. Vulnerability was never a good look. “I was ready to defend myself,” she said.
“I noticed.” He briskly wiped down the bar top. “What are you drinking? I’ll put it on Ray’s tab. He owes you now.”
“I’m okay, thanks.” AnnieLee paused, steeling her nerves, and then the words came out so fast there was hardly a breath between them. “Look, I can’t tell you how I got to Nashville without incriminating myself—which is too bad, because it’s a really good story—but I can tell you why I’m here. I’m going to make it as a singer or else I’m going to die trying. My name is AnnieLee Keyes, I turned twenty-five years old last week, and I’m asking you to give me a chance to sing up there on that stage. Will you be the one to give me my first big break? I really hope so. And then when I’m famous, I’ll tell everyone that I owe it all to Billy the bartender at the Cat’s Paw Saloon.”
He gave another snort, but this one was gentler. “Like I need more desperate wannabes coming into my bar.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Though you don’t look desperate, if I’m being perfectly honest.”
“That’s because I look ambitious.” She leaned forward like she was about to tell him a secret. “And I also look like I did my makeup in a Popeyes bathroom.” She held out a slender arm. “Seriously,” she said. “I really did. On this here wrist is nothing but pure eau de fried chicken.”
The bartender stared at her for a moment and then burst out laughing. “You’re funny. Country music’s a tough business. Maybe you should consider a career in comedy.”
She said, “Yeah, that’s on my bucket list, right after climbing Mount Kilimanjaro and becoming a contortionist in Cirque du Soleil. But I need to get this dream accomplished first because it’s in the number one spot. So do you want to keep chatting me up or do you want to hear what I’ve got?”