Tiger Moths (11 page)

At first he had been very insecure about dating Kayla. She was not like any girl he had known in high school. She was a woman, not a girl, and it almost scared him how much he thought about her. But he knew she must deeply care for him. When he graduated from college he did not follow the safe, sensible path. A college graduate was supposed to do certain predictable things. But Johnny did not put a padded resume together and search for a suitable job. Instead, he struck out on his own, and Kayla gave him her blessings. The day after graduation he packed his one and only suit, his guitar, a tattered copy of
The Grapes of Wrath
, and a sentimental football. Against all naysayers, but with Kayla’s encouragement, he set out for the city of country music stars to pursue his dream. He loved people. So, with a confidence possessed only by the young, he believed with all his heart that people would love him back.

He glanced at the picture on his dashboard. Kayla held a black mixed-breed puppy and smiled that beautiful smile of hers. He had surprised her with the puppy the day before he was to leave because he did not want her to be alone. She had been so surprised and happy that she actually started to cry, which confused the heck out of him at the time.

He chuckled to himself now as he remembered his reaction to her tears. He threw the truck into the next gear. Shaking his head, he laughed some more about the incident. It was such a fond memory.

“Babe, what’s wrong? I thought you’d love him. I’m sorry. I can take him back if you don’t want him.” It had broken his heart to see her tears. He never, ever wanted to hurt her. She gave him so much. She had changed him, made him better. She had helped him understand more about life and the things that really mattered.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said with a sigh, “no, no, I love him. I’m just so … so touched. I love him, Johnny; I really, really do. You will not ever take him back. Just look at him. He is adorable, just like you.”

She had leaned over and kissed him tenderly, and he had reached out to hold her. Both momentarily forgot about the squirming bundle of energy between them until the puppy reminded them by quickly relieving himself on Johnny’s leg.

“I think I’ll name him Willie,” Kayla said and giggled.

“That’s just priceless, Kayla. And, yes, I do get it - after wet Willie, right?”

She had reached over again and kissed him and said, “That’s right, my smart man.”

He arrived at his destination and shifted the column gear to the park position. Turning off the engine, he gave a quick love pat to the dashboard. She was not much to look at, but the man loved his old truck. It had brought him from the hills of East Tennessee to the halls of higher education. He believed it would now take him to the fruition of his dreams. He knew it in his bones. He knew he was going to make it in Nashville, no matter how long he had to stay.

Entering the small Mexican eatery, he waved to the hostess and ducked into the men’s room. He had this routine down pat. After four months he could time his exit from job one and make it to job two with precision. Quickly changing from his café waiter’s black and white formal uniform, he emerged a new man. JC was now transformed back to being Johnny. It was in his three-year-old tennis shoes, thread-bare jeans, and muscle shirt that he felt the most comfortable. Noting his puny arms in the mirror, he made a mental note to get back in the gym as soon as he could afford it. Affording it meant both monetarily and time-wise. Nonetheless, he would do it, because that too was part of his composition.

Donning a Tennessee baseball cap, he stepped to the cooking area and retrieved his guitar from the supply closet. It was still the only one he owned, compliments of Casey Capps, and of course Kayla. Moving closer to the cook, he gave him a good-natured slap on the back. “What’s for dinner, Julio?”

Without turning his back, Julio lifted a plate over his shoulder. “We got your favorite tonight, Johnny: burrito supreme, one chicken, one steak. Hot sauce is in the cooler; help yourself. Better eat fast, gringo. You are on in a few minutes. You got a full house tonight. It should be a good night for you. This is a drinking crowd too. Most of them have drunk enough that even you will sound good to them, huh! Ha, ha, ha, you know I just make fun to laugh with you. You know you are very good.”

“Julio, my man, maybe one day my music will be as famous as your burrito supreme.”

“Maybe, maybe not, we will see. You go make good music now, Johnny. You go play from the heart; they will love you. You go give them a reason to keep coming back – that is good for the both of us.”

“It is from my heart. Thank you for knowing that.”

Johnny knew that this gig was just about the bottom of the barrel, but he loved it for two reasons. First, he got all the free Mexican food and drink he wanted, and Mexican was his favorite food. Second, and most important, he loved the people who ran the place. True, the pay was not that great, but the good food drew big crowds, and they allowed him to play whatever he wanted for tips.

Performing was fun for Johnny. He could hardly remember when he did not perform. He loved the energy of the audience, to see them laugh and enjoy themselves and his music. Music truly was the universal language. It was salve to his soul in the lowest of times; it was the bridge between what was and what could be. Music was the living of life, the crying of tears, the stem of faith, and the manna of joy. He could not imagine life without music – his life or anyone else’s. It was in his music that Johnny found his reason for being, and it made him so happy that he wanted to share it with the world. While some might have seen his dream as a luxury of entertainment, he found it a mission of necessity. It was his call to help others out of tough times, and to show them how to savor the good times.

To him, music was a way of life that was free to everyone, no matter their circumstances. It was free of limitations; uninhibited by the usual barriers of race, religion, politics, or gender. Whether prince or pauper, it was there for the taking. In music he found truth, and because it was free he found justice. That is what propelled Johnny, like a missile to a pre-determined target, to persevere in spite of the odds and the naysayers. In his heart he knew he would never find what he was born to be anywhere else. This was bigger than him, and he could not stop if he wanted to. There was not a fiber in his body that wanted to give up on the dream. Every breath took him closer to making it happen.

“Good evening, everyone. Whooooyaaaa, y’all havin’ a good time tonight?’ He took the stage the same way every night.

“Yeeeees, let’s get rockin’, Johnny,” a regular responded.

Julio had been right; this was going to be a great crowd and a great night.

“All right then, here we go. How ‘bout we start out with a little Jimmy Buffet and go down to a little place known as Margarita-ville? Looks like some of you are already part of the way there.”

Johnny played until well past one in the morning. He felt good, and the audience was all he thought they would be. But nothing could have topped off the night any better than what happened when he finished.

Johnny shook hands with a few folks and laughed with several of the patrons. It was a terrific night, but nothing was out of the ordinary. Until a particularly good-looking guy walked up and extended his hand. “Johnny Clark?”

“Yes, sir, that’s me. How are you doing tonight? I hope you had a good time. Did you like the set tonight?”

“No. No, Johnny, I didn’t.” The stranger’s eyes fixed on Johnny.

A little disoriented, Johnny lost his perpetual smile for the first time. “Well, uh, why not? Would you have liked to have heard something else? You know you can request anything, ’cause I can pretty much play whatever you want.”

“Yes, I believe you can. I didn’t like the set tonight; I loved it!” The man smiled for the first time. It was a huge smile that lit his entire face. “And Johnny, there are a lot more people who need to be hearing you play and sing.”

Thrown for yet another loop, Johnny regained his usual grin. He was almost giddy. “Really? Do you really think so, man? I hope you’re not yanking my chain, ‘cause I really want that one day.”

“No kidding. I think you are good, and I think you can be a lot better. I think you definitely have potential to be something special. It’s your original stuff I am most impressed with; it shows you are a real songwriter. My name is Buddy James. I’m not an agent or anything like that. Some of those guys are idiots and just out for themselves. You gotta watch them. Not me, I’m just another musician who knows talent when I see it. I’ve been in this town over twenty years playing in studio bands for some pretty big names. Look man, like I said, I’m no agent but I know people. You need to go see Mark Scott. Here’s his address.”

Buddy took out a pocket notepad and scribbled on it. Handing the address to Johnny he continued, “Tell him I sent you. That will not necessarily carry a lot of clout; but it will get you in the door, and that’s a start that’s hard to come by in this town. The rest is going to be up to you. You’ll need to take a demo tape, and don’t press him. Just meet him and talk to him enough to stick in his mind. Then give him the tape and be gone. Put your name and contact info on the tape; he’ll lose it if you give him a card. Like I said, don’t press in that first meeting. No matter how much you want to, it will turn him off in a heartbeat. Let the demo sell you to him. Then, when and if he gives you a call, you can be a little more excited. He wants professionalism and poise in that first meeting. Don’t do some dopey dance like you just scored your first touchdown as a professional player. You can be yourself later; for now you are all business. Got it?”

Johnny’s head was swimming. He had tried to take in everything Buddy had told him, but he hardly heard anything after “You have the potential to be special.” Trying to regain his composure, he thrust his hand out to shake Buddy’s.

“I got it, and I can’t thank you enough. It means so much to hear such a compliment from a fellow musician. I’ve got a demo tape I’ve been trying to get to somebody in Nashville to listen to for a long, long time. But like you said, it’s really tough to get in the door. Thanks for opening it up for me. I’ll never forget this. I’ll go see Mr. Scott first thing in the morning. Man, I can’t believe this is happening.” His voice quivered with excitement.

Buddy took his hand and shook it firmly. “Good luck, Johnny. I really hope we can do some work together in studio. Me and the boys love working with the good ones. You take care, man; maybe when you are a star one day you can help out some other young buck.”

“Yea, maybe so. Hey, man, you take care too, and thanks, Buddy.”

As the door closed behind Buddy, Johnny stood alone and processed what had just occurred. He whistled and yelled, “Wow! I’ve got to call Kayla.”

Having never worn a watch, Johnny looked at the wall clock. Two thirty in the morning was not the time to be calling.
I’ll have to call tomorrow. Can’t believe I forgot to call between jobs again. But once she hears this news, she will forgive me. Wow!

He picked up his guitar and returned it to the supply closet. Tomorrow he would meet with a real agent. He knew he would not sleep a wink tonight.

Johnny pulled his trusty truck into the parking space. He got lucky and slid into the last spot on the street. Maybe a good omen? He kissed his hand and laid it on the picture of Kayla on his dashboard. He felt a little guilty that he had not called her yet, but there would be time for that. Hopefully, if all went well, he would have even better news soon. Kayla would be so proud of him.

Reaching into his coat pocket he felt the demo tape and smiled before slamming the door. The passenger side window slid halfway down again. One day there would be enough money to get it fixed, but not quite yet. He looked both ways and dashed across the street. It was early, but traffic was already picking up. Even so, it would not have mattered if there had not been another soul around, he still would have run. His heart was pounding even though he kept telling himself to stay cool. His body was winning that battle. It was just that he wanted this more than anything, and it was so close.