The Guitar Player Ch. 01

"Robbie, can we talk to you?" Frankie, the oldest, asked when they walked in. I knew there was no place to run, so I nodded.

"Look, we just want you to know that there are no hard feelings from us," Frankie said as he shuffled awkwardly in front of the cash register. "I mean, I wish you hadn't thrown her out onto the front lawn considering that she's pregnant, but we get it. You were justified."

"Well fuck me with a crooked stick," I said in total surprise. Now, I felt bad about manhandling Suzie. Even though it wasn't my kid, I would have felt horrible if anything happened to the baby.

"I appreciate that," I said cautiously. "But I didn't know Suzie was pregnant."

"You told our dad she was pregnant," Sal, the youngest, challenged.

"I know I accused her of it, but I really didn't know," I answered. "I was just messing with your dad's head."

The three brothers began to chuckle. Then Frankie spoke. "I wish I had been there to see Suzie land on her ass. That would have been priceless. Suzie and mom have been screaming at us to kick the shit out of you. Dad told them to shut their pie holes. He said you had every right to do what you did and more."

"Really?" I was totally surprised that Suzie's dad stood up for me. "I thought he hated me?"

"Oh, he still hates you," Frankie confirmed. "It's just that he's an old fashion Italian man, and he can't stand cheating wives. Suzie has already caught his wrath and his backhand two or three times for talking back."

I was happy that Suzie's brothers weren't angry with me. I truly liked them all. And I did try to get on with my life in Tifton. But then my granddad began to fade. He had been put into a nursing home a month or two before Suzie, and I split. His mind was beginning to falter, and that really saddened me. Of course, I went to visit him as often as possible. And I told him the whole story of Suzie and me splitting up. On that particular day, he was more or less with it.

"Robbie," he said with a sad smile, "You need time, and you need to put some distance between you and your ex-wife."

We talked for about an hour before he got tired. Just before I left that night, he reminded me to never chase the dream of being famous. He died the next day.

I struggled on for another three months, but with my granddaddy dead and the love of my life now living with another man, I knew it was time to move on. My parents didn't want me to go, but they understood why I had to.

The idea of leaving Tifton was scary. I had never thought about moving anywhere else until Suzie dumped me and my granddaddy died. However, the good thing about Tifton is that it is only about three and a half hours up I-75 to Atlanta. Plus, I wound up with a little over five thousand dollars after the divorce. Most of it was money that I had been secretly putting away to take Suzie on vacation to Europe. I guess I was supposed to split it with her by law, but I figured fuck her.

I said goodbye to my folks, gave the finger to George Menard's dealership, and hit the road. When I got to Atlanta, it only took me a day to get settled. All I felt I could afford was a room in College Park.

As it turned out, the room was in a house owned by a nice black family, the Monroe's. Henry and Mable Monroe had been happily married for almost thirty-five years. Both were in their mid-fifties. Tyron and Tabor were their two sons. Both lived at home, and they paid rent also.

Mabel and Henry were hesitant about renting to me because I was white. In fact, Henry even came out and said that he'd feel strange renting to a white man.

"Oh Lord," I said as I frantically touched my face, "I'm white?"

This cracked up Mabel, and she put her hand on Henry's arm. "He'll be fine. Rent him the room."

It was a little strange at first, but they treated me well. And after the brutal betrayal by my wife, it was soothing to watch a loving family interact. Henry was a postman, and Mabel worked in a daycare center. Tyron was a mechanic, and Tabor said he sold real estate. After a while, I figured out, Tabor was, in fact, a low-level drug dealer. His parents didn't know that he sold small amounts of marijuana, crystal meth, and ecstasy. Strange as it may seem, I got along with Tabor the best. No, I didn't use drugs. I preferred beer. What I liked about Tabor was his friendly humor. He was really funny and kept everyone laughing. Years later, I was devastated to hear that he had been gunned down one night in a drug deal gone bad.

I choose College Park because MARTA, the Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority, runs right through it. I could walk to the station, and I wouldn't have to take my car into the city. Finding a parking spot is almost impossible, and it costs a fortune to park in a lot in downtown Atlanta.

Once I was settled, I set about looking for a job. I must have applied at forty or more different places. At first, I hit all the music stores within a reasonable distance. None of them were hiring. Then I started with the want ads. After an interview, either they weren't interested in me, or I wasn't interested in them. After two weeks of not finding a job, I was beginning to get discouraged. One afternoon, after getting turned down for another job, I decided to stop at a bar just down the street from my last interview. Anyway, it was Friday, and I didn't have any more interviews for the day. So, I thought I'd get a drink and something to eat.

The outside of this bar was very deceiving. It was much larger inside than it appeared from the street. I expected to step into a relatively small room with a bar counter and a few chairs and tables spread around. However, once I was through the double doors, the room expanded out on both sides. Because the lighting was kind of dim, I couldn't see it all. A long bar ran along the right side, with about a dozen patrons having an early afternoon bracer. The main floor was crowded with maybe eighty or ninety tables.

What caught my eye right away was a small stage at the far end of the room. From the doorway, I could see instruments resting against several stools in the center of the stage. It looked like they had live entertainment, and that piqued my interest. But first, I wanted to get something to eat and a beer.

I slid into a seat three down from the closest customer and waited for someone to notice me. From a used coaster on the bar, I learned that the place's name was "Big Carl's." And apparently, they did have live entertainment. Even though there weren't that many patrons, three people were working behind the bar. Two were young men, and the other was a very attractive young woman. One of the guys appeared to be about six feet tall with brown hair. He had a very effeminate way about him. Still, he smiled a lot and seemed pleasant enough. The other seemed to be a couple of inches shorter with jet black hair and talked a blue streak to his partner. The girl was even prettier when I got a better look. She had dark auburn hair that was cut in a "page boy" look. She had a button nose and a slender but cute figure. If she had pointed ears, I would have thought her an Elf. And right now, she looked like an angry Elf.

Eventually, the girl came up and tossed a new coaster on the bar in front of me. "What would you like?"

"Can I get something to eat?" I asked.

She snorted and then sighed. "Yeah, I guess so. What do you want?"

"Could I get a hamburger and some French fries? I'd also like a bottle of Coors if you have it. If not, I'll take any domestic beer."

"The hamburger will take at least twenty minutes," she snapped. "They're just getting the grills going. Why don't you order a sandwich?

The bit about a sandwich was spat out more like a command than a question. I hadn't had a particularly good day, and her attitude irked me. I didn't have to be anywhere, so screw it, I wanted a hamburger.

"I can wait. I want a hamburger," I said with a smile.

After she put my bottle of beer in front of me, none too gently, she turned in a huff. As she stormed away, I couldn't help but wonder who crapped in her crispy critters this morning? I continued to watch as she dropped my order off, headed to the back and up a set of stairs that I hadn't noticed when I came in. The other two guys had disappeared into the kitchen. I didn't know whether they had something to do in there or if they were just trying to stay out of the way of the angry Elf.

Having performed in many bars, I was somewhat taken aback by her attitude. She seemed more than agitated; she seemed totally pissed off. I hadn't a clue as to what was bothering her, but I, for sure, wasn't going to put up with it if she gave me anymore of her shit.

I sipped my beer for a few minutes as I waited for my food and finally got bored. So, I got up and wandered around. I estimated that this place could easily hold a couple hundred people with the tables and chairs in place. Then I saw a sign that said the occupancy was limited to two hundred and seventy-five.

Stopping in front of the stage, I estimated that it was a twenty-foot by twenty-foot raised platform. I saw a bass guitar, a banjo, a synthesizer, and a kazoo on the stage. The synthesizer wasn't a top-of-the-line model, but it still must have cost at least eighteen hundred dollars. It seemed strange that they didn't have an acoustic guitar. The reason for that, I would learn in just a couple of minutes.

"Damn it, Carl, Ty, just up and quit!" I heard the voice of the girl with the auburn hair yell.

I looked up and could see a short, heavy-set man descending the stairs with the girl hot on his heels. The man, whom I guessed was Carl, appeared to be in his fifties or sixties. He had thin white hair, a potbelly, and a bulbous nose. The elf-like woman looked like she was ready to explode.

"That's not my problem, Tanya," Carl said with a matter-of-fact voice. "If you can't replace him in the next hour, I'll get another group. Besides, you guys aren't setting the world on fire. Still, even if you can't get a replacement, I'll let you guys stay and work the bar until the new group gets the hang of it."

"Fuck!" Tanya said and stormed off into the kitchen. Then I heard yelling, and all three of them came out arguing. The gist of the argument was about replacing Ty with somebody who played acoustic guitar. Since I can play any kind of guitar, I thought this might be a golden opportunity.

"Excuse me," I interrupted their argument, "but I couldn't help but overhear that you need an acoustic guitarist."

"What about it," Tanya snapped.

"I can play any kind of guitar," I said with a smile.

Tanya just frowned at me and turned back to her companions. "We've got to find someone established, or we're out on our asses."

The taller of the men looked at Tanya and then back to me. "Can you really play any guitar?"

"Yeah," I responded enthusiastically.

"What about songs? We're basically a cover group leaning more toward the sixties and seventies pop and country. Do you know any Beatles, Johnny Mathis, Dolly Parton, John Denver, Patsy Cline, or Glen Campbell songs?"

"Yeah, I know pretty much all of their songs," I kind of lied. I knew all of Beatles, John Denver, Dolly Parton, and Loretta Lynn's songs. I used many of them when I performed in Tifton. However, I was a little shaky when it came to Johnny Mathis, and I only knew one Glen Campbell song, Rhinestone Cowboy. He wasn't one of my favorites. But when it came to Patsy Cline, I knew all of her big hits. Patsy Cline was my all-time favorite country singer. I usually ended my shows with one of her lesser-known hits, True Love. I don't know why, but singing that Patsy Cline song always seemed to get me a standing ovation. As to knowing the songs, I figured whatever I didn't know, I could learn quickly.

"Simon, we're wasting time," Tanya complained. "We need to call a talent agency and see if they can get us someone for tonight."

"What's it going to take five, ten minutes to find out if this guy can do what he says," the guy argued and then turned to the other male. "What do you think, George?"

"Yeah, why not," George nodded. "And if you don't want to listen, Tanya, you can go see if an agency has someone for us."

"Fine," Tanya stalked away, and I saw her pull her cellphone out and start searching the web.

This was, hopefully, turning out to be a better day than I thought when I first walked into this bar. I headed for the stage, but George grabbed my arm. "Wait a second, my bass guitar and Simon's banjo aren't going to work. There's an old guitar that Ty left because he bought a new one. It isn't very good, but we'll take that into consideration."

George disappeared and returned a few minutes later with the promised guitar. It was pretty old and beat-up. It also had dust on it, indicating that it hadn't been played in a while. Still, beggars can't be choosers. I brushed the dust off and began tuning the guitar after taking a spot on the stage.

Once I had Ty's old guitar tuned as much as it ever would be, I decided that I'd only sing parts of four or five songs to give them a flavor of what I could do. I just hoped I would be good enough. I wanted this gig badly. I hadn't been able to perform for weeks. Besides, I was beginning to burn through the five thousand dollars.

When I was ready, I looked out at Simon and George and smiled. "Hey, it's great to be here. I can't believe the size of this crowd. Settle back, and let's get this show cranking."

The two men cracked up, with George giving me a thumbs up.

I then began with part of the only Glen Campbell song I knew, Rhinestone Cowboy. Then I segued to Willie Nelson's On the Road Again, then to Dolly Parton's Nine to Five, and finished with Patsy Cline's True Love.

When I finished, the guys were clapping and whistling. Even the few people in the bar were clapping. It felt great.

I glanced over at Tanya. I knew that she would have the final say, and I said a silent prayer that she'd give me a chance.