“Big turnout tonight, huh?” Charley asked.
Annie adjusted the microphone stand and smiled at her best friend. “I can’t believe how many people signed up.” She absently wiped her hands on her black pants before pushing a blond curl behind her ear. Her curly hair always managed to slip out of the confinement of the hair tie, giving her a messy “I just woke up” look no matter how many times she tried to tame it. She slipped her phone into the docking station and took a deep breath. In eight minutes, she was going to livestream Coffee & Chords, a popular show for her YouTube channel. Wednesdays were open-mic night at Charley Shock’s coffee bar, The Night Owl. It always amazed Annie how many people drank coffee late at night, but there was a need, and The Night Owl was the only coffee bar that stayed open until eleven.
“Go get ready. I’ll get the stage set up.” Charley pointed to her clock.
Annie went into the back room to slip into her jacket, throw product on her hair, and touch up her makeup. She sat on the single bar stool onstage and adjusted the mic. Wednesday nights were her absolute favorite. Most people loved Friday nights, but not Annie. That was her night to order takeout, curl up on the couch with a good book, and fall asleep until Raven Elizabeth, her rescue cat of eight years, pawed her on the face for a late-night snack or a game of fetch. Brainpower and creative juices flowed best for her on Wednesdays.
She contracted work as a jingle writer for several local advertising agencies. The rest of her time was spent at The Night Owl doing solo gigs, which allowed her to work out new songs and practice in front of crowds. She was thankful Charley gave her the stage whenever she wanted. “Okay, everyone. We’re going live in one minute. I’m going to start off by playing a quick song, and then first on the list is Harmony Hannah.” She stumbled over the name and bit her lip to keep from laughing at the horrible alliteration. Annie always played the first song to give her viewers enough time to pop on. She had over twenty thousand followers, and open mic was good exposure for local artists, especially queer ones.
“Is everyone ready?” The loud applause made her smile. She was in her happy place. She strummed a few times to tune her guitar, and once she felt comfortable, she hit the live button but turned off the tip jar. She didn’t feel comfortable taking money for other people’s performances, and trying to divide the online tips was a nightmare. “Welcome to another episode of Coffee & Chords. We’re coming to you live from open mic at The Night Owl, the best coffee bar in the Denver area.”
Most of the people or small bands played soft, easy-listening music because the venue was a coffee shop, not a concert arena. Country was also popular, but after scanning the crowd and not seeing cowboy hats or cowboy boots, Annie figured tonight would be a night of folk and pop music. The stage wasn’t big enough for head-banging bands with tons of equipment, so most artists were low-key.
“We have a great night in store for you. Over fifteen musicians have signed up, so sit back and enjoy the show.” Annie didn’t introduce the song she was playing. She didn’t have to. It was a cover of a popular pop tune on the radio, but she slowed it and gave it a personal twist. Several people in the audience sang it with her, which always made her smile. When she was done and saw the number of viewers was where she wanted it to be, she introduced the first guest to the onstage. “First up is Harmony Hannah. Let’s give her a warm welcome.” Annie scooted offstage and waited for Hannah to finish her song so she could come back onstage and introduce the next guest, Loco Motion.
“What’s your number tonight?” Charley put her arm around Annie’s waist and rested her cheek on her shoulder.
Annie checked the app on her watch. “Just over three thousand.” Annie loved the closeness she and Charley shared. They had been best friends since high school, forming a strong bond initially over music and then over their love of books, junk food, and scary movies. Despite what people assumed, Charley was straight and had a boyfriend of three years, but fully supported Annie’s queerness.
“I bet by the end of the night, you’ll have five thousand viewers,” Charley said.
“I hope so. Half of the sign-up sheet is new to me. My viewers really appreciate fresh sounds.”
“Harmony Hannah isn’t horrible,” Charley said.
Annie nudged her in the ribs. “Shh. The phone picks up everything. We don’t want people to hear you.” She turned around to watch Hannah. “But you’re totally right. She’s pretty decent, just not comfortable in front of a crowd.” Hannah’s glittery rainbow guitar strap reflected the spotlight, blinding everyone in the crowd when she strummed.
“High school. Who didn’t have anxiety then? She sounds like she’s wrapping up. Go save her before she melts into a puddle of awkwardness,” Charley said.
Annie quickened her pace and slid up beside Hannah right when she strummed the last note on her guitar. Annie started applauding, and the crowd picked up her cue. “Thank you, Harmony Hannah. Was that an original song?” The young musician nodded and blushed. She now understood why Hannah asked to go onstage first. Sometimes it was easier to get it over with and sit back and enjoy the rest of the night without the anxiety of counting down the minutes until stage time. “Great job.” She waited until Hannah shuffled off the stage. “Next up is a new-to-us band, Loco Motion, that just formed a month ago.” Annie ignored the rest of the biography they handed her. They were pressed for time, and this was an open mic. “Let’s give them a warm welcome.”
“They sound pretty good for being new,” Charley said when Annie returned to her spot next to the stage.
“I think so, too.” Annie liked their youthful energy. They were only a minute into their song, but she heard something she liked. Maybe it was the lead singer’s vocal agility or the way his fingers glided so smoothly along the strings of his guitar. His chord transitions were flawless. With practice, she imagined Loco Motion could go far, or the lead singer could strike out on his own. He was good enough. Since she started open mic two years ago, three performers had gone on to sign contracts with record labels. Not because of her, but Annie liked being able to say, “I knew them when.”
“What’s your schedule for tomorrow?” Charley asked softly.
“I’m headed to the hospital to play for a bit. Then I’ll be here after lunch, if that’s good?”
Charley nodded. “That works. How’s Peyton?” Her fingers pressed into Annie’s waist when she asked the question.
It wasn’t a secret that Peyton suffered from retinoblastoma. Annie just hated that it defined her niece already at such a young age. There was always the underlying message when people asked about Peyton because the question was never about her being a kid. It was never about how she was doing in preschool or if she liked playing soccer or if she wanted to be in tumbling. It was always about if she was going to survive the cancer or if her sight would ever be normal. “She’s good. You know how she is. So resilient.” When Peyton was diagnosed at four, a late age for the disease, the prognosis was grim. The tumor behind her right eye had been growing at such an alarming rate the doctors feared the cancer had already spread to other parts of her body. Thankfully, it hadn’t, but her treatment plan was still aggressive.
“How many days is she in for?”
“Sarah will probably keep her overnight.” Annie’s older sister was head nurse of the pediatric wing of the university hospital. Years ago, they joked about how it was a good idea to take the job in case Sarah and her husband had accident-prone children. Little did they know how important that decision would turn out to be.
“I think it’s great that you play for the kids. It gives them something to look forward to every week.” Charley pointed to the bar. “Looks like they need me over there, but stop by before you head to the hospital tomorrow, and I’ll give you some freshly baked cookies for Peyton.”
“She’ll love it. Go. I’ve got this.” Annie turned back to the stage. She spent the next few hours welcoming the next thirteen guests until it was time to say good night and end her livestream. “Thank you to everyone here and those watching from somewhere else.” She stopped the stream and broke down the stage as people were leaving. It was almost midnight, but Annie felt so alive. She helped Charley close and walked to her apartment two blocks away. It was tough having no outlet for the inspiration that had swelled after tonight’s performances, but it was late, and she knew her neighbors were asleep. There was always tomorrow. Tonight, she’d crawl into bed and read the comments on tonight’s livestream.
“Hello, baby.” Annie squatted and rubbed Raven’s ears. The soft, silky triangles were bright pink against her black fur, and Raven preferred having them rubbed more than her belly. “Did you miss me tonight? Are you hungry?” A quick check of the food bowl let her know that not only did Raven eat all her kibble, but she had used her bowl as a hockey puck on the kitchen floor, her way of demanding more. Annie opened a can of wet food and scooped half into Raven’s dish. “We’re celebrating. Tonight was a good night.” Raven meowed her approval and rubbed against Annie’s legs, ready to devour the seafood pâté once it was in her bowl. Annie changed into her pajamas, spent a few minutes on her nightly routine of brushing her teeth, exfoliating her face with a new sugar scrub her sister had recommended, and applying a new leave-in conditioner that promised to tame her curls overnight. She scoffed at the guarantee on the box but followed the directions just in case it worked. It was almost one in the morning. She crawled under the covers and pulled up her YouTube channel. The comments were mostly positive, but one or two people always had cruel words about talent or about the LGBTQ community. She quickly deleted the hateful posts in case anybody who was onstage tonight was doing the same thing she was. She couldn’t control the like or dislike feature, but she could eliminate the rude words. It amazed her that people wanted to get noticed, even if it was at the expense of others. After doing a first run-through of cleanups, Annie closed her laptop, tossed a mouse toy around for Raven, and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
“Hello, everyone.” Annie peeked into the children’s chemotherapy room and waved at the tiny faces that lit up when they saw her. Annie had made her musical visits weekly. She also made it a point to play for any child who spent their birthday at the hospital, which, sadly, was a lot. The kids loved it, and since her sister was in charge, she let Annie play whenever she could fit it into her schedule.
Peyton yelled when she walked in the room. “Auntie Annie!” She waved her arms frantically, as though Annie wouldn’t notice her fifteen feet away.
“Good morning, big girl. How are you feeling?” Annie gave Peyton a tight hug and would have kissed her on her head if she wasn’t wearing a mask. Since their immune systems were compromised, Annie wore blue tear-away coveralls and a see-through mask. She could still sing fine with it, and the children could see her mouth.
“Okay.”
“I’m going to play a few songs, and then we’ll go back to your room and hang out there.” Annie leaned down and whispered, “I have a surprise for you.” Peyton clapped her tiny hands together with delight, and the clear tube attached to her arm swung slightly. Annie swallowed her sadness and kept a smile on her face. “Who wants to hear a few songs?” At their cheers, she sang a quick little nursery rhyme to get them in the mood. By the third one, every single kid in the ward was smiling, even the ten-year-old girl who scowled at her when she first showed up and strummed the childish song.
“Can you play something from the radio?” the girl asked.
“I can. What’s your name?”
“Zoey, but you can call me Zee,” she said.
Annie smiled even though her heart broke. The navy-blue beanie hat that rested just below her brow emphasized the translucent half-moons under her solemn brown eyes. “That’s a lovely name. Any requests?”
“What about anything by Bristol Baines?”
Annie thought about it and grabbed her capo. “Do you like the song ‘Let Love Through’?” She adjusted it on the neck of her guitar and strummed a few seconds before she liked the sound. “Want to sing it with me?” Zee nodded. Who didn’t know Bristol Baines? She was all over the pop chart, and while her music was too poppy for Annie’s tastes, she liked the bones of her songs. Since Zoey had agreed to sing with her, Annie decided to keep the song true to form. “Everyone, Zee is going to sing with me. And if you know the song, feel free to jump in and sing it with us.”
Annie looked up when Sarah and a woman slipped into the room. Annie barely gave the woman standing next to Sarah a second glance. Wearing coveralls and a mask, she was completely unidentifiable, but she gave off powerful energy. She assumed it was a parent of one of the children and waved to both before she started playing. It was a faster song, and Annie liked the challenge of the playing the different notes. It was one that Bristol played on the piano, but Annie had learned it on her guitar.
She smiled when Zoey slowly, quietly joined in. By the end of the song, they were both belting out the lyrics. The entire room applauded when they were done. Annie walked over and fist-bumped Zoey. “That was amazing. Had Bristol heard that, she would have been super impressed.”
“We have time for one more song, Annie,” Sarah said.
“One more song. Got it.” She pretended to think hard. “This is a tough one. Is there one that we all want to sing? Maybe ‘You Are My Sunshine’ or something like that?”
“‘Party in the U.S.A.,’” one of the tiny patients yelled, and everyone else cheered.
That song was older than the patients in the room. How did they even know it? It wasn’t that Annie didn’t appreciate Miley Cyrus’s talent; she just didn’t like her music. She smiled and started strumming. These kids deserved happiness, and if that’s the song they wanted, then that’s what she was going to give them. “Everybody put your hands up like the song says.” She waited for them to put their hands up. When they all had their hands up as high as they could, given their treatment restrictions, Annie continued. She sang the rest of the song and ended it with a whoop of delight. “I have to go now, but I had a wonderful time with all of you.” Annie went around the room and fist-bumped all ten kids. She met Sarah on the other side of the door.
“Guess what?”
“What?” Annie asked, peeling off her mask and coveralls. She let Sarah fix the collar on her shirt.
“I just met the most amazing person, and you’re going to love me.”
Annie held up her hands and waved them at her sister. “Oh, no. You are not playing matchmaker with me. I’m fine on my own.”
“Oh, hell, no. She’s way out of your league anyway.”
Annie playfully smacked her sister’s arm. “That’s not a nice thing to say.”
“I’m teasing. Besides, she’s straight anyway.”
“Like you were with her for what? Ten minutes? And you talked about her sexuality? Weird.” Annie slung her soft case over her shoulder and held up a small brown bag. She didn’t want to talk about the secret woman who’d watched her play. “This is from Charley for Peyton. I can only assume it’s nothing but sugar and frosting and is guaranteed to put a smile on her face.”
Sarah put her hands on Annie’s shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “I know you’re ignoring me, so let me put it to you another way. You just played a song by one of the hottest artists of our time, the legendary Bristol Baines, in front of her manager.”
Annie could only stand there and gape at her sister. What were the odds?