Page 71 of Down Beat

Why do I only play traditional music? I can’t say it’s because that’s solely where my passion lies, because it isn’t. My passion is in the instrument as a whole, no matter how it’s played.

What if this is the fucking universe giving me a nudge in the right direction? Will I miss my shot at making a lifetime career out of this because I’m too pigheaded to accept change?

“Where do I sell it, though?” I mumble, refusing to give Kendall the satisfaction of looking at her. “So they get hooked, and then what? I need to monetize that interest.”

“Like we talked about the other night, we work out how to get you on Spotify. Google it. Now. Fuck whatever you were doing before.”

Looking for regular work online. “Fine. I’m doing it.”

“Good.” She stays quiet a beat before adding, “I’m proud of you, Tab. Remember that. Don’t forget to look back every now and then so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.”

I glance her way, not entirely convinced; I’ve got so far to go.

“Remember where you were when we met?” she asks.

I suck in a deep breath and turn my stool to face where she readies her bag to head to work. “Waiting tables in the same block as the movie theater you worked at.”

“Exactly.” She fills her water bottle, and then twists the lid tight as she adds, “And now here you are, making music your full-time thing.”

“We can barely afford to eat,” I point out. “I’m literally on the verge of giving up, Kendall.”

“Not yet, grasshopper.” She leans over and places a kiss to the top of my head as she makes her way to the door. “Not when that video proves that you can make a goddamn stir given the right audience.”

“Love you, boo.” I reach out and catch her hand as she walks away.

Her fingers slide from mine as she tosses a smile over her shoulder. “We got this babe.” The door clicks as she pulls it open; I return to my laptop. “And you have a visitor.”

“What?” I slide off the stool and walk around the half wall to see what on earth she’s on about.

Kendall gives a cheeky finger wave as she slips past the last person in the world I expected to make a house call.

“Hey, kitty.”