From The First Verse - M. Robinson Page 0,50

at now.

Nothing seemed to be working in my favor. My spirits were low, my expectations even lower.

Maybe my old man was right?

I shook away the thought, focusing on the good that might happen soon. Back when I was in Seattle, before heading to Nashville where I was currently residing, I met this musician named Beck Rice. We started talking about possibly hitting the road together. He had connections in the music industry, and every day I was silently praying this was it.

My chance to finally make something of myself and prove everyone wrong.

The only people I spoke to from back home were my sisters, Harley, and sometimes Shiloh. I couldn’t afford a cell phone, so I’d call them from a payphone. Harley, I called every Sunday night. Needing to hear her voice, reminding me I still had someone who gave a rat’s ass about how I was doing. No one knew the shit I was going through.

Not even her.

I didn’t tell anyone, not wanting them to worry about me. I was a grown ass man, and I could take care of myself.

I missed my family, though. My momma the most. Giselle was the only one who knew a little about my situation. She’d fuckin’ grill me until I told her what was up and where I was. A few days later money would always show up. I refused to take handouts, donating it to whatever shelter I was staying at. They needed it more than I did, and I had no problem handing it over.

My eyes shifted toward the clock on the microwave. It was almost showtime. I grabbed my guitar, making my way downstairs to hit the stage. For the next hour, I played my newest set. Getting lost in the beauty of my music. Through the soft thrum of the strings, I closed my eyes and sang the lyrics of the chorus.

“I wait ... for the day ... where I don’t ... feel so alone...” The strumming of my guitar was effortless and defined. “I ain’t much good for anyone ... but my body wants someone ... to call my own ... to come home to ... to feel like I belong ... under the burnin’ moon and the blazin’ sun ... I wait ... for the one ... to love me with all my flaws...”

My voice was soft and smooth but raw enough to give you chills. The lyrics and beat took me back to another time, another place, when I was a kid. Thinking of my family.

They were engrained in my mind.

In my heart.

In my soul.

Singing the chorus again, the emotions bled off every last part of me. Making the crowd scream and cheer for my God-given talent. Their energy was contagious, it always had been. Always would be.

It all fell around me.

My voice dropped to a soft tone, as did my guitar.

From the moment I opened my eyes, I jerked back. Caught off guard with my girl standing in the far corner of the bar.

There she was.

Harley Jameson.

With her eyes closed, feeling one with my music like she always had. Just by the expression on her face, I could tell she was imagining the same memories I was. Remembering our tight ass bond.

I smiled, announcing into the microphone, “Let’s give a warm welcome to my very best friend, who just surprised the shit outta me by showin’ up!”

The crowd went wild.

“Harley Jameson, get your ass over here and give me a hug.”

She laughed. Still as pretty as a peach.

The bar wouldn’t let up, whistling and clapping until she was walking over to me. I hadn’t seen her in months, but it didn’t matter. It was like I’d just seen her yesterday and no time had passed between us.

She threw her arms around my neck, and it felt so fuckin’ good to hold her.

“Holy shit, I’ve missed you,” she breathed out into my ear.

“You feel good in my arms, darlin’. Missed the fuck outta you too.”

She burst into tears, and I pulled away. This wasn’t Harley, she never cried.

“Hey...” Grabbing her face in between my hands, I wiped away her tears with my thumbs. “What’s goin’ on? Is it your parents? Did somethin’ happen?”

“No, nothin’ like that.”

I grabbed her hand, leading her off the stage. “Come on.” Guiding her up to my place, I unlocked the door and declared for the second time that night, “Home sweet home.”

Doing my usual routine, I threw the keys into a bowl on the counter by the door and strode