Page 108 of The Girl with No Name

“Okay?”

“Do you love this girl?”

“Wow. I’m not big on throwing that word around…” I think about how hard it was for me to tell Sam I loved her initially, how I’d held back my enthusiasm.

Then I ponder the epic weekend with Charlie and Luna. I think about that woman on the plane and how, years from now, it’s possible Luna will be my surfer boy. She opened me up so much.Hell. I met Luna, and now here I am opening for the Red Lemons.

It seems highly unlikely that was all a coincidence.

“You know what, Vi? I do.” She believed in me more than my own roommate, my own girlfriend. Hell, she believed in me more than I believed in myself. It could be that the only reason I was in a position to play tonight was due to the butterfly effect of hanging out with her. It’s like Luna sprinkled pixie dust on my life or something. “Regardless of what happens in the future, I love her.”

Vi gives me a hug. “Aww…that’s cute. You seem like a good guy, Reed. I’m gonna post this. Good luck.”

I watch as she types out a caption:

Reed Walker is opening for us tonight. And he’s looking for a girl with no name. Has anyone seen her? Social media, do your thing. Find this girl!

“Is that good luck with the show or the girl?” I ask.

Just then, the stage manager interrupts. “Walker. Showtime.”

With that, I step out on stage, throw my guitar strap over my shoulder, and grab the mic. Compared to Railfest, this is nothing. There are only a few hundred people, not thousands. But this is different. These aremysongs I’m playing. And I’m dead sober.

“Hi. I’m Reed Walker, and it’s my pleasure to be opening for the Red Lemons. This song is called ‘Old Soul From Chicago’.”

I work through my set, and it goes pretty well. The crowd is into it. Then I get to my last song. “So, coming up next are the Red Lemons,” I announce. This gets a roar from the crowd.“They’re probably my favorite band of all time,” I say. “And I accidentally met them at Railfest in Kentucky a few weeks ago.”

“Wooo!” A hoot from the crowd.

“It was an epic concert. I met a girl, fell in love, had some epic times, and listened to some great music. It was a weekend I’ll never forget. Anyway, I haven’t seen the girl again, but I wrote this song for her. It’s called ‘My Love,’ and a special guest is going to help me out.”

Henry Cooney walks out with his guitar held high in the air, and the crowd hoots to an unbelievable volume.

Oh.This is what it’s like to be on a stage with a real rock star.

I nod to him, and he plays the opening riff after hearing it just once from my rough recording, like the seasoned star he is.

I join in, vibing, and I’m scanning the crowd for her. This is it. I know it. She’s here. It’s tough to concentrate on looking for her while playing, but I do it. I sing:

If I had every wish

That a man can dream of

If I conquered the world

And made it back home

All the money in the world

would seem so small

You can’t take it with you

When the graveyard calls

If I had every wish

I would have a kiss