well as Clancy’s on Saturday.
“Looks good. I’m glad we’re growing a name for ourselves and getting more regular gigs.” I grunted and put my phone away, ignoring the text message from my sister in the process.
“Definitely. If not for The Piano Bar agreeing to take us on during our infancy, no one would have heard us play,” Baylor said.
“Well, it helps we’re good at what we do,” Weston added with a snicker.
“And our secret weapon.”
“What’s that?” I asked, feigning ignorance since I knew where Maverick was headed.
“Please, everyone stops what they’re doing to watch you during your solos,” he told me with an eyeroll.
I waved him off. “It’s only because I play the sax.”
“Not a chance. It’s because you play sex,” Baylor said.
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that from them, or anyone else. But I brushed it off and changed the subject to talk about what time we needed to arrive at the bars—even if I already knew. Thankfully, they went with it, rather than spending more time ribbing me for playing the sax in what they considered a suggestive way.
I couldn’t help it, though. My body took on a life of its own whenever I played, and I just moved with the music. I hadn’t started out wanting to play the sax. Music was just something I was always around. My mother played it constantly in the house while we were growing up, and my father also fiddled around with a guitar. Since I felt like it was ingrained in my soul, I’d joined the band in middle school as one of my elective courses, but I’d wanted to play the guitar just like my dad.
But while I loved listening to the sounds it made and watching the rock stars as they poured their heart and soul into solos, it did nothing for me. It was just an instrument I was playing. So after thinking long and hard about it, I came to the conclusion that maybe playing in a band wasn’t for me, after all. I decided to stay after school one day to talk to my teacher about dropping out to join woodshop, since in that class I could play with power tools and make my mom something to display in the house.
But as I approached, the resolve I’d built to quit and join a different class melted as I heard music drifting from the door. It wasn’t anything I’d ever heard before, but it caught my attention and held on tightly as it pulled me closer and closer. Even though I was probably intruding, I couldn’t help but pull open the door and was shocked by what I saw.
My eyes widened and my pulse raced as I saw my music teacher, Mr. Hughes, positioned next to a music stand, but he wasn’t reading the sheet music. Instead, his eyes were closed as he played, and I could just see how the melody was coming from is soul and flowing through his fingers. I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt him as he played the song, a soulful piece I’d never heard before, and my fingers twitched with an urge to play it myself.
“I want to play like that,” I blurted as soon as he pulled the instrument from his mouth and paused to take a breath.
“Stellan, how long have you been standing there?” Mr. Hughes asked as his eyes narrowed.
“Long enough to know I want to play like…like that,” I said as I stepped farther into the room and gestured toward him, barely noticing the door slamming shut behind me.
Rather than lecture me about the reasons I needed to stick with the guitar and that it was wrong of me to eavesdrop, he continued to stare at me before looking down at my fingers that were still dancing to the melody that was playing in my head.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to play like that?”
Rather than just blurt out that it seemed cool, I paused and thought about my answer. “Because I could tell you weren’t just playing the instrument. You were playing the music in your heart and using the instrument as a tool to let others hear it.”
“That’s deep for a twelve-year-old,” he mused, but it wasn’t in a way to make me feel bad. “Okay, I can see you’re serious about trying. There’s a spare in the back room. Why don’t we give it a shot and see how you do?”
“Really?” I asked as excitement shot through my body.
“Yup. Unless you need