Page 106 of The Girl with No Name

“You dance with my girl again, and I’ll have to murder you in your sleep.”

“Oh…sorry.”

“I’m just kidding! Bro, you take everything so seriously. But for real, you can’t have mine, so get your own girl. And learn her name this time.” He hangs up, laughing.

I look out at the lake again. What did that woman on the plane say?

There are years where nothing happens, and weeks where years happen. The last two weeks have been two of those weeks for me.

I head back up to the bar and rejoin Amy and my drink.

“So, what’s ‘Henry Cooney’ have to say, stalker?” she says with air quotes.

“He asked me to open for the Red Lemons at the Aragon Ballroom this Friday.”

She shakes her head. “Okay, now I really can’t tell if you’re just making all of this up, or you’re the coolest stalker ever.”

“Maybe you should come Friday and see us—see me.”

“Friday. That’s in two days.”

“Yeah.” I slam the rest of my drink. “I better get to practicing.”

When I get homethat night, I listen to every song I’ve ever written until I pass out. In the morning, I start again and find the best seven to record using my voice memo app. I don’t have time for anything else. I send rough tracks to the musicians Henry put me in touch with—a drummer and a bassist in the area.

I’m in the flow, in my room, singing as I move sticky notes around on my whiteboard with the names of the songs on them to determine the setlist, when there’s a knock on my door.

“Dude, can you keep it down?” Mason pops my door open. “I’m trying to work a real job out here. It’s Thursday. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Nah,” I say, too in the zone for a long explanation of anything.

“Bro, what do you meannah? We had an agreement?—”

“I’m playing at the Aragon Ballroom Friday. I’ve nowhere else to do this. So, the agreement changed. You can work out on the deck, if it’s really bugging you.”

“No, dude, this isn’t a debate.”

“You’re right, it isn’t a debate. I don’t bug you about banging your girls, which I can hear through the walls and interrupts my sleep. So don’t interrupt me again about playing music.” I slam the door in his face.

“And you left the butter out!” he yells through the door.

I’ve got such a laser focus right now, I could not be less affected by Mason’s complaints right now. I’m not angry or sad. I’m indifferent.

This really does feel like a new me coming on.

25

REED

“MY LOVE” – REED WALKER

My heart pounds as I approach the towering doors of the Aragon Ballroom with nothing but the old acoustic guitar my mom and I split payment for during my freshman year of college. The late-afternoon sun casts a warm glow on the bustling streets of Chicago’s Uptown neighborhood.

“Excuse me,” a security guard says as I head in. “Where are you going?”

“I’m Reed Walker.” I look up at the venue’s iconic marquee, blazed with bold letters announcing the night’s lineup:

The Red Lemons with special guest Reed Walker