Kiss King - Mickey Miller Page 0,60
for a year.” I thought it best not to go too far into what we are because we’re still finding that out.
The song ends and Johnny looks directly at us from his spot on the stage.
“I’d like to dedicate this next song to my day one homie. Violet, you’ve been at my side for the ups and downs, the gigs we did in bars and coffee shops where no one listened. But you? You always listened to my songs from day one and you loved them no matter what. Violet, I’ve never said this at a show, but I will now. This one’s for you.”
Violet wipes a tear from her eye and sniffles.
The crowd, which is a decently raucous crew, goes quite silent.
My heart pitter-patters as I rear back against Grant’s hard chest.
“Holy shit,” I mutter as Johnny picks up his guitar. “I feel like we’re witnessing the birth of a legend.”
Johnny launches into the first riff of the song, and the crowd goes wild.
“Yep,” Grant says. “We just did.”
As we’re filing out of the show, Violet grabs my arm. “Hey, do you want to come to the after-party tonight?”
“Are you serious?”
She smiles. I always thought famous people would be assholes, but Violet seems like the sweetest person on Earth.
I glance up at Grant. Part of me still feels bad that we never got to finish off what we started last weekend. And last Tuesday. I wonder if he’s as anxious as I am to get back and hook-up. My stomach has been in knots all night.
“What do you think, Grant?” I look up. “Should we stay out, or…”
He wrinkles his forehead. “Is that even a fucking question? Yes, we’ll hang out with the Red Lemons! Where’s the party?”
“Definitely,” I agree. As much as I want to go back and finally consummate whatever this is between us, this seems like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
The party is in this humble apartment a few blocks from the venue.
It’s like a frat party, except with a more diverse array of people. We talk with their Brazilian trumpet and saxophone player, Manzo.
Grant gets involved in a debate with the lead guitarist, Henry, over something or other, and I find myself chatting with this girl with lots of tattoos who reminds me of my friend Alex, well, if she had a more artsy personality. Turns out, the girl’s name is Eliza and she’s a working artist.
“Yeah, you can make money from paintings. But you’ve got to hustle. So where are you working now?”
“I don’t work. I go to school here in Galesburg at Green State University.”
“Oh, man. I’ve heard tuition is crazy there.”
“It is.”
“How much is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”
I tense up, because this always makes me feel like a spoiled rich girl. “It’s almost fifty grand a year.”
Her eyes widen. “Shit! You’re going into all that debt and you want to be an artist?”
My pulse speeds. Did I tell her I wanted to be an artist?
“Well actually, I’m not paying for school, precisely because I don’t want to go into debt.”
“How are you paying for school then?”
“My dad is paying for it,” I say, a little sheepishly.
“Oh. Well, if that’s possible, great. You don’t feel like, beholden to him in any way since he’s paying your tuition?”
I shake my head, but the wheels start turning about my dad’s insistence on studying business. I decide to change the direction of the conversation. “Well, it’s got to be hard to make ends meet if you’re making art and trying to sell pieces, right?” I ask.
Eliza continues. “Yes, it’s hard to make ends meet. But you have to play the long game as you work on your craft and establish your fan base. Small towns work but…the city is where it’s at in my opinion. And there’s so many jobs you can get in the big city, especially Chicago. They’re fun, too, especially if you have even any sort of outgoing personality. Let’s see, I’ve worked as a waitress, tour guide, human painted sculpture, tarot card reader. I was even a swimsuit model for a car show. My current gig bartending is definitely the best though. I finally found this kick-ass job at this unpretentious tequila bar in Logan Square.”
“I’ve never been to Logan Square. We were just up in Chicago for my birthday in January, though.”
“Oh, far out. You coming back any time soon?”
I shrug. “No plans to head to the city, no.”
She smiles. “Well, honey, if you ever need a tour guide or