They had to constantly grind, keep up with social media, and feed the machine daily. The tweets, the posts. Snapchat, Soundcloud, YouTube, Bandcamp. They’d hired a publicist with some of their royalty money. Her name was Barbie Petersen, and she had all kinds of great ideas for growing their audience, but she had also asked Layla to do some things she wasn’t comfortable with, and Layla had pushed back. No, she was not going to pose in her bed wearing a white tank top and holding her guitar with artfully tousled hair. No, she was not going to film a video with Brian in which they would look at each other longingly and pretend how thankful they were to have found each other. Brian had put his foot down on that as well.
Layla was growing weary of looking at the screens of Brian’s laptops. She wanted to perform in front of a crowd, hear their shouts, watch them sing along while they listened to the music. She would have thought that two up-and-coming musicians with a growing online fan base would find it easier to book local gigs, but they were finding it every bit as difficult as it had always been. There were so many bands and artists vying for the same opportunities, and they really needed to hire a manager to take some of the booking responsibilities off their shoulders. But neither of them really wanted to hire another person after already hiring Barbie. They were earning a nice supplemental income by then but had agreed to keep their operation as small as possible. Brian and Layla could reach a large audience online, but connecting with fans locally was the same crapshoot it had always been.
* * *
In June, one of Brian’s local contacts told him about a new, upscale bar looking for musicians. Brian made a call, and thanks to their social media following and the digital calling card they could now present, they were hired on a trial basis. Maybe it would turn into something more, but for now, Layla was happy to throw a guitar strap over her shoulder and look at real human faces. When she wasn’t with Brian, rehearsing or playing, she was sitting alone on her deck, guitar and journal by her side. She’d come full circle from where she’d been at this time last year, but she wasn’t the same person and she took solace in that. And Josh, well, she’d pressed pause on that relationship, and he hadn’t returned. She’d made her peace with the decision and she would be just fine.
Tonight would be the first time she and Brian had played live since they’d filled in for his friend back in March. That was the night Layla and Josh had slept together for the first time, and the memory filled her with such longing that she closed her eyes and indulged in filtering through the scenes of that night like a slide show in her mind: playing for the crowd, Josh talking to her friends, kissing Josh, waking up next to him in the morning.
Now there was no Josh and not enough live performing to feed her soul. Layla’s days were filled with writing social media posts and pithy tweets and recording thirty-second Instagram stories and not only did those things not fulfill her, she was starting to struggle with completing them at all. And then she would tell herself how lucky they were, remind herself that she should be thankful. Wasn’t this all she ever wanted?
At the bar, as they were tuning their instruments and warming up, Brian said, “Did you drink a coffee on the way over? You’re bouncing. I don’t think I’ve seen you this energetic in a long time.”
It was true. It was almost like she had little springs in her shoes. She vibrated with energy and pent up creativity that she could hardly wait to unleash. “That’s pure adrenaline, my friend. No caffeine needed.”
“Josh coming tonight?” he asked.
“Haven’t heard from him.”
Brian opened his mouth, and she braced herself for the inevitable I’m sorry. I guess I was wrong about him coming back. But all he said was “You ready?”
“You know I am,” she said.
“Then let’s do this,” he said, and he smiled at Layla and they high-fived and she felt like she was standing on top of a mountain waiting to jump, hoping the crowd would still be there to catch her.
They launched into their opening song, a cover of Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain,” followed by Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way.” A respectable applause greeted them at the close of every song in their first set, and by the time they were midway through their second, the crowd had spilled onto the dance floor and the palpable energy reached all four corners of the room.
They closed out the second set with “Stick Shifting,” which had become one of Layla’s favorites even though she sang backup instead of lead. She remembered something she’d said to Josh when she tried to explain how performing made her feel. Have you ever been driving in your car alone and it’s a beautiful day and you’re in a really good mood and the sun is shining and you’ve got the sunroof open and you’re on your way to do something that you’ve been looking forward to? And then a song comes on the radio and it’s one of your favorites and you sing along and you don’t care how loud you’re singing or if the car next to you notices your little concert for one?
Layla might not have been in a Jeep with the top off, but she felt exactly the way she told Josh that performing made her feel. She couldn’t stop smiling and she could have played for days, because every note she played and sang felt like a deposit in her happiness tank.
She downed a bottle of water during their break, itching for it to be over so they could play another set. Tonya and her husband came to say good-bye. “You are on fire,” Tonya said. “I wish we could stay, but we told the babysitter we’d be home by ten. Early flight tomorrow morning.”
Layla hugged her. “Sorry. I’m a little sweaty. Have a great time on vacation. Call me the minute you’re back.”
Layla dashed to the bathroom and made her way back onstage, raring to go. Brian joined her and they ramped things up with “Rolling in the Deep” and “Take It Easy.” The songs got faster and louder until they peaked with “Magic Man,” and then they slowly brought the vibe back down.
“This is our last song,” Brian said. “It’s an original song called ‘Thankful’ and we want you all to know that we’re thrilled to see you here tonight. We hope you’ll come back and see us again.”
Layla smiled at Brian. He gave her a thumbs-up and she flashed the peace sign back at him. She strummed the opening notes, and as she sang the words written by the man who stood beside her, it was as if she were hearing them for the first time. She’d been singing them for months, but she was finally listening to them.
I thought we’d have forever
Not an expiration date
The time I’d invested
Now straight down the drain
I wallowed and raged needing someone to blame Hurt and broken I lashed out
Couldn’t even say his name
It’s hard to let go when you’ve done all the work So much time and effort and none of the perks It’s old news
Bad news
Nothing meant to last Get back in the game
Bring the lessons you learned from the pain They said don’t long for what broke you It’s in the rear view
Let go of the old
Make room for the new
I only half listened to their stupid advice Because everyone knows lightning never strikes twice.
Be thankful it ended
It’s not what fate intended
Let it crumble
Let it shatter
Years from now it won’t matter
Make your peace
Draw your line
Hold firm for next time
He’s out there waiting
Go and find him
So I guess the advice they gave me was true Felt that spark again the night I met you Picked myself up
Started living
And it happened by chance
It’s true life’s a journey