I own none of her music, I'm simply inspired by it.
Thank you for reading
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Night one.
The Parlor: officially the best part of this town. Two hippies and a young businessman started it a couple years ago. Everyone older than thirty was convinced it would fail. Apparently a cabaret-style night club isn’t a good idea in a college town.
Every night of the week features something different; jazz Sundays, comedy Mondays, theatre Tuesdays, karaoke Wednesdays, poetry Thursdays, dance party Fridays, and open mic Saturdays. It’s been a raging hit.
I go to The Parlor almost every night. I bring my laptop and books, buy a coffee and watch the show. There are a lot of regulars at The Parlor, people like me that go every night and some that only come on their favorite night of the week to listen. Some people preform every week and others do it once and are satisfied.
I play almost every Saturday night. I’m a singer and play piano and guitar. Open mic night is the bane of my existence.
“We’ve got a great show for you tonight,” Lewis, the owner of The Parlor said. “We’ve got some regulars, we’ve got some first-timers, and hopefully we have some spontaneous singers out there. Let’s kick it off with The French Aristocrats.”
Lewis left the stage and it went dark. The French Aristocrats performed about once a month. They were alright. They tried to write their own stuff and sound deep and meaningful but no one really understood the message they were trying to get across.
I was sitting with my best friend Estella. She had a major crush on Tom, the bass player in The French Aristocrats so she screamed really loudly when they came onstage. I sipped my coffee.
Estella rested her chin on her hand, “Man I wish I had his number.”
“Easy. After he’s done playing, find him in the crowd, tell him how awesome he was, put on that Estella charm, flirt your butt off, and then ask for his number.”
She sighed, “You know I can’t do that.”
I shrugged, “Sit here and mope about how you don’t have his number or make a freaking move? It’s not that hard of a choice.”
“I’ll try I guess. I doubt he’ll want to talk to me though.”
“Go in with that attitude and you’ll be right,” I sipped my coffee.
“Who are you singing for tonight?”
“Alex.” He had been one of my best friends until he moved halfway across the country and forgot about me. Bastard.
When I sing at The Parlor I use it as an outlet for emotions. I sing songs that I love and that have meaning to me. Even if the person the song is directed at never hears the message, getting it out helps me.
The French Aristocrats finished and Lucy Kenner began singing. I finished my coffee and stood, it was time for me to warm up. “Ask him!” I hissed in Estella’s ear before I left. She whimpered softly.
It was surprisingly quiet backstage which I liked. I tuned my acoustic guitar and sang through my song softly once. I threw my hair in a loose ponytail and took off my red jacket because it was getting hot so I was left in a silver sequence tank top and black skinny jeans.
The crowd started clapping which meant Lucy was done. “Great job Lucy! Come back and play any time,” Lewis said. “Next up we have a returning favorite. Please welcome Jennalee Cooke!”
I went onstage. The stage lights were bright so it was difficult to make out people in the crowd. “Hi everyone,” I smiled and shielded my eyes for a moment. “Tonight I’m going to be playing ‘Arms’ by Christina Perri. The bastard it’s for isn’t here but the message still applies, Alex,” I smiled coyly.
Estella screamed “ow, ow!”
“Here we go,” I began playing.
“I never thought that you would be one to hold my heart.
But you came around and you knocked me,
Off the ground from the start.
You put your arms around me,
And I believe that it’s easier for you to let me go.
You put your arms around me and I’m home.
…
The world is coming down on me and I can't find a reason to be loved
I never wanna leave you but I can't make you bleed if I'm alone
You put your arms around me
And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go
I hope that you see right through my walls
I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling
I'll never let a love get so close
You put your arms around me and I'm home”
I said “thank you” after I was done and left the stage. I thought the performance went pretty well. Every time I sing a song about the bastard I feel a little better. Pretty soon I won’t care about him at all. Can’t wait.
Estella wasn’t at our table when I got back so I assumed she was trying to find Tom. She better be finding Tom. I went over to the bar. I wanted one drink to celebrate my victorious playing.
“Drinks on me Jennalee, you sounded awesome,” Ashlynn the bar-girl said.
“Thanks but you don’t have to do that,” I smiled and handed her some cash.
As I sipped my drink people wandered over to the bar to congratulate me. I smiled and thanked them like I usually did. I wonder where Estella is.
“Hey do you mind if I join you?”
I turned towards the person who spoke. It was a boy about my age with short brown hair, dark jeans and a fitted grey and green striped shirt. He was cute I suppose.
I said, “Sure.”
“Thanks, I’m Hunter by the way.”
“Jennalee.”
“You sounded really great on stage just then. Do you play here often?”
“Almost every week. Is this your first time here?”
“Yeah. I can’t believe I’ve never heard of The Parlor before. This place is amazing! Can anyone play or do you have to know someone?”
“All you have to do is ask Lewis if you can play and nine a half times out of ten he says yes. At the end of the night, after everyone has played he asks if there are any spontaneous singers which means anyone in the audience that wants to play something really quick, can.”
“That’s so cool. I might have to try and play here sometime.”
“What do you play?”
“Piano, guitar, and I sing.”
I smiled, “Me too.”
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. It was Estella. She slumped into the chair on the other side of me. “Guess who has a girlfriend.”
“Tom?”
“Yes! I went up to him to do just what you said and this other girl comes up to him, kisses him on the cheek and was like ‘good job, baby’ and then he was like ‘thanks sweetheart’ and kissed her!”
I made a face. “I’m sorry, Stel.”
She rested her chin on her hands, “Who was that guy you were talking to?”
I turned back towards Hunter, he was gone. I was surprised that I was disappointed. I’m not really one to fawn over guys. I just let things happen. “Just some guy that liked what I played.” I glanced down at my glass to get another drink and noticed a small piece of paper.
It was nice meeting you Jennalee.
468-9266
