Southern Rocker Chick

by Ginger Voight

  I couldn’t believe it. I had actually gotten my foot in the door. “Absolutely. Anything you want!” I gushed. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Hollis,” I said as I shook her hand with both of mine. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”

  “Mm hum,” she murmured again. “Make sure I don’t. You’re on a ninety-day probationary period. Sink or swim, sugar.” She gave a thumb’s up to Jacinda, who brought a wardrobe bag to the table. “Welcome to Southern Nights, Lacy,” Gaynell said before she left us to it.

  Unlike the Golden Armadillo, female employees weren’t put on display with revealing uniforms or costumes. They wore jeans or denim skirts, a white button-down shirt and a black leather vest. Jacinda’s vest had a brass Texas star pinned there with her name.

  I knew I had ninety days to earn mine.

  She led me towards the bar. “We make anything, so you have to be prepared. Most of the time it’s easy stuff, beers and whiskey, things like that. But we do mixed drinks and have invented a few of our own.” She pulled a list from under the bar to familiarize me with the ingredients. I fumbled a bit with a few of the tools, but Jacinda fortunately chalked it up to nerves.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Mama hired you on the spot and that’s big. She hardly ever does that. You must have impressed her somehow.”

  I shrugged. “As long as I don’t screw up over the next three months, I guess.”

  Jacinda laughed. “Her bark is way worse than her bite, so don’t get too worked up over the probation period. Odds are if you show up and don’t drink her booze, she’ll keep you around. A cute girl like you? You’re going to sell a lot of drinks.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. I knew it meant more tips, but frankly I was scared to be around drunk, horny guys.

  That had never worked out to my advantage.

  “In fact, a lot of guys, and some gals, will ask for the dirtiest drink in the catalogue just to be obnoxious – especially the college crowd. But you just wink and smile. Offer a witty comeback. But if they even think about reaching across that bar, everyone on staff, from Mama to the bouncer at the door, will punt them outside the door so fast they won’t know what hit ‘em.”

  I laughed with her, though decidedly less convincingly. “I just want to pour drinks,” I said. “I’m not here to meet anyone.”

  “Right?” she echoed. “Bar scum. No thanks. But call them cowboy and sugar and honey anyway. Wink. Learn their names. Flirt. You get a bigger tip. Oh,” she said, as if an afterthought, before reaching with her index finger to loosen the top button on my shirt. “Just a little taste of honey, to keep ‘em buzzing around the hive.”

  “What if they want something more?” I asked. The thought still terrified me.

  She shrugged. These were not big problems for her. “Lie. Tell them you have a boyfriend. Tell ‘em you’re married if you want. You’re selling more than booze. You’re selling an illusion. You can make it whatever you want. Whatever you choose, make it someone tough and kickass, though. Take control of the conversation from the start.” She leaned against the bar with one elbow. “Once I had this politician offer me ten thousand dollars for a roll in the hay.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told him I’d sleep with him if he resigned his office. Funny,” she said with a wrinkled nose. “I never did hear from that guy again.”

  We laughed.

  “Some patrons will try to buy you drinks. Tell them it’s against policy. That is definitely a major offense for the next ninety days. Don’t use your cell phone on the floor either. And whatever you do, don’t bother the talent.”

  “Don’t worry,” I promised. I had had my fill of musicians, thank you very much.

  To me that stage didn’t exist. That didn’t change much over the next six hours either. I stayed busy trying to keep up with the orders, which, even for mid-week kept about eight bartenders hopping. Jacinda shadowed me that first night, staying close to my ear to give me tips on what to do and what not to do. She was patient and she was funny. It almost didn’t feel like work at all, even after we closed the club and started cleaning up.

  “You did good,” she said as we washed and dried the glasses together. “I think you’re going to fit in really well here.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you,” I said.

  She dismissed the compliment with a shrug. “Honestly, you’re replacing me. And I think you’ll be a much better bartender.”

  “What do you mean, ‘replacing you’? You’re not leaving are you?”

  “Sorta,” she said with a small grin. “I get to join the house band full-time as of this weekend.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Congratulations.”

  She laughed. “Don’t break your arm off patting me on the back. It is so not a big deal. The house band consists of my four brothers.” I laughed with her. “I’m only singing backup. I’m the least talented person in my family next to my dad. I get to play the triangle, bang on a tambourine and sing backup. Softly,” she added with a rueful grin. “But Mama always wanted the whole family on stage so...,” she trailed off with another shrug.

  “Still,” I said. “You get to do it with your family. And that’s pretty cool.”

  She chuckled. “It is, isn’t it?”

  We finished our cleaning and clocked out, changing out of our uniforms, back into our street clothes. Gaynell met up with us as I followed Jacinda toward the door. “How’d it go tonight?” she asked us both.

  “Good,” Jacinda responded. “I think she’s going to fit in very well.”

  “Mm hum,” Gaynell murmured. “I guess that means there are eighty-nine more days to go.” She handed me a slip of paper with the schedule for the next two weeks.

  Before I could thank her again for the job, she spun on her heel and stalked away. I glanced up at Jacinda, who gave me a playful nudge.

  “Like I said, her bark is way worse than her bite. She always comes off as a hard-ass at first, especially with female employees.”

  “Why?”

  “There can only be one alpha. Everyone knows it from the start.” We reached the door. “See you tomorrow!”

  The lights were still on when I pulled up to our house that night, but I knew that Mama wasn’t necessarily waiting up for me. She usually didn’t worry much when I went out. She knew I wasn’t getting into trouble. Most of the time, I was working just as hard as she was. I had done a lot to regain her trust after Lucas left.

  But it was a mixed blessing to find her awake. It meant I couldn’t hold off telling her the big news, which threatened to tear all that precious trust asunder the minute I told her about my new job.

  She glanced up from the checkbook as I entered the trailer, her eyes sweeping over the nice dress I was wearing. “I was just about to call you. Where’ve you been?”

  I joined her at the kitchen table. “I got a new job. Full-time with tips.”

  “Oh yeah? And where is that?”

  I took a deep breath. “Southern Nights.”

  She rolled her eyes and went back to balancing our meager checking account as she paid the bills. “Lacy,” was all she said.

  “I’m not singing, Mama. I’m just tending bar. It’ll be okay.”

  Her tired eyes met mine. “Famous last words. I know. I’ve said them.”

  I took her hand in mine. “I know you’re worried, but you really don’t have to be. I’m not you and I’m not grandma. I learned my lesson four years ago. This is just a job.”

  “I’ve said that before, too.”

  I showed her my schedule and told her what Jacinda had said I could make per hour with tips. “It’s better than any other job I could have gotten, Mama.”

  “I bet singing would pay even more,” she quipped.

  I gave her a wry glare and she held up her hands in defeat. “You’re right. You’re right. It’s a good-paying job. You say I can trust you and so I have no choice but to do so. But please, honey. Whatever you do. Don’t get involved with these people.”


  “You know me, Mama. I don’t get involved with anyone.”

  She smiled and nodded and I headed for a nice hot bath.

  The next day I was at Southern Nights ten minutes before my shift started. I was determined to prove to Gaynell that she hadn’t made a mistake by hiring me. Jacinda arrived and we spent the next half-hour setting up. I was so focused on my work I didn’t realize someone had approached the bar.

  “Hey, sexy,” a deep male voice drawled. “I’ll have a Slippery Nipple.”

  My eyes darted to the tall man standing just two feet across from me. His dark hair was wavy, brushing against his shoulders, and his smile was picture perfect with even, white teeth.

  “Really?” I heard Jacinda say as she sauntered up to us. “You’re going to get her fired on her second day?” She turned to me. “This is my idiot brother, Tony Paul. He’s part of the untouchable talent. So they say,” she teased as she glanced back at him.

  Tony Paul Hollis was just as striking as his sister. His eyes were brilliant blue rimmed with dark, full lashes. Their light color contrasted starkly with his black hair. He was fit. Muscles strained against the tight clothing he wore, including a pair of jeans that looked about a size too small. He reached out a hand to me. I took it begrudgingly.

  “Lacy,” I said.

  “Wow, what a great voice,” he marveled at once. “Do you sing?”

  I shook my head at once.

  “Well, you should,” he said as he leaned on both elbows on the bar. Jacinda promptly knocked them off.

  “You know how Mama is about the new girls. Go find yourself a groupie or something.”

  “Groupies,” he said with a wrinkled nose. “They get old quick. Never a challenge. But fine,” he said as he straightened and held his hands up in surrender. “When’s your probation over, smoky girl?”

  “Eighty-nine days,” I said, hoping the number would scare him off.

  He gave me a wink and a grin. “Then I’ll see you back here in ninety.”

  I turned to Jacinda after he left. “Tell me his bark is worse than his bite, too.”

  She scoffed. “I’m more worried about how he plans to mark his territory. He’s my brother and I love him, but he’s a total dog. You’d be smart to stay well clear of him. Besides, he’s Mama’s favorite. You get close to Tony Paul and you might as well put a bullseye on your back.”

  “No worries,” I declared. “I’m not into musicians.”

  “Smart girl. I knew I liked you.”

  I mirrored her smile and they opened the front doors.

  Thursday was much easier than Wednesday, though it was just as busy. I had the drinks mostly memorized after making so many of the same ones over and over. If I had a question about a new one, Jacinda or one of the others would assist me. I also got acclimated to the bar banter, adopting a more caustic role after someone tried to reach across the bar to grab me as I walked by. “Whatchoo gonna do, Lil Bit?” he slurred. It was the absolute worst thing he could have said. I didn’t call for a bouncer. With a sweet smile I took his hand in mine and twisted his thumb back until he apologized. “The smaller the scorpion, the deadlier the sting,” I said. “And the name is Lacy.”

  Jacinda gave me two thumbs’ up.

  Friday night Jacinda officially became part of The Talent. I was a little nervous without my mentor hovering over my shoulder, but that lasted all of five minutes. After that I was too busy to think about it. Even after the live music started, thirsty patrons kept me hopping. Two minor acts warmed up the audience for the headlining band, which on this particular night happened to be The Hollis Five.

  Though I didn’t want to, I found my attention drawn more and more to the stage as Tony Paul took the spotlight. His voice poured over my senses like warm chocolate, sweet and thick. All the girls up front seemed to feel likewise. They screamed for him until he stood over them at the edge of the stage to give them a closer look at what they wanted: the promise of the bulge in his jeans.

  I shook my head in disgust as I turned away. I already knew all about those promises. Tony Paul would find no groupie in me.

  That night as I was cleaning up, Tony Paul paraded past the bar with two groupies, one under each arm. “Eighty-nine days,” he called before he escorted his new friends out of the club.

  Jacinda joined me at the bar for a bottle of water. “Asshole, right?”

  “Why does he do that?”

  “Because he can. He’s the star of this joint. Week in, week out, he packs ‘em in. The girls just can’t get enough of Tony Paul.”

  “Obviously,” I sneered.

  “Mama says he’s this close,” she held up her thumb and her index finger, a hair apart, “from getting a record contract. Then he’ll be really obnoxious.”

  We chuckled. “You sounded great,” I offered.

  “Oh please. I don’t even think they turned on my mic. It’s all for show. Mama just wanted some pretty girl on stage to give the men something to look at. If she could have found someone who could sing, I’d still be tending bar.”

  The way she said it made me sad for her. It was as though she was still trying to find her place in her successful family.

  I wondered as I drove home if that was what I had wanted all those years ago when I was singing with Lucas. I just wanted to belong. Singing was simply the thing that had helped me do that.

  But I knew it was more than that. As I drove along the freeway, windows down, radio cranked, I belted out the lyrics to every song I knew. I felt like I was flying, safe and protected, where no one could ever reach me. I felt connected to the pulse of the universe. Unstoppable. Untouchable. I didn’t have to hide from music. I didn’t have to fear music. Even after the year I avoided it, it came back to me just like an old friend, no questions asked.

  And I couldn’t help but go back to it. Music made me happier than anything ever had. The only things that made me unhappy were all the complications that came with it. The music itself? It was a balm for my soul.

  Mama was already in bed by the time I let myself into the house. I unwound in a hot bath, then retreated to my bedroom. I grabbed a spiral notebook, one of the many I had left from high school, and opened to a fresh page. I hummed to myself as the pen raced across the page. I wrote about the need to belong to something, and the feeling of euphoria when you find that special place in the universe made just for you.

  I was eighteen years old when I wrote my first song. It was all about my greatest and truest love, one I knew would never betray me or forsake me.

  From that day forward I was faithful only to the music.

  Chapter Five

  As the weeks wore on, I found my groove at Southern Nights. Sometimes it got chaotic and crazy, but that only passed the time that much faster. I kept the sardonic façade, which really wasn’t much of a façade after dealing with my fair share of drunks over those first few weeks. Surprisingly my caustic attitude and acid tongue actually earned me some regular customers who could give as good as they got.

  As long as no one called me Lil Bit, I was fine.

  The most annoying part of the job, honestly, was avoiding Tony Paul. Every day he’d cheerfully announce the countdown until my probationary period was over, as if that was unlocking some gate where he could break down the wall between the servers and the talent. I already knew Gaynell wouldn’t care either way. Tony Paul was her baby and no one, absolutely no one, on the crew was allowed to date the Hollis family. Southern Nights took a no-tolerance approach to fraternizing.

  That suited me just fine. I was on a strict no-musician diet, so I had no plans to change my mind in 90 days, 60 days or any other day.

  Instead I focused on the job I was there to do and cashing my weekly paycheck. My first month in, I had a bank account, my own cell phone and was on my way to having my first computer. Mom still had an antiquated desktop computer, where I had completed many a homework assignment over the years.

  I wanted something a little more private, something I
could take into my room and tinker around with, without Mama overseeing (and judging) my burgeoning attempts as a songwriter.

  Granted I was limited in what I could do. I hadn’t ever learned how to play music, so most of the notes I composed was unwritten. I had to sing into my voice recorder and pray I could decipher it later.

  If it weren’t for the no-fraternizing rule at the club, I might have asked some of the members in the band to help me out. Not all the Hollis boys were as intimidating (and relentless) as Tony Paul. Ty Jr., or TJ, kept himself busy with his massive drum kit, a fidgety ball of energy who lived mostly on energy drinks. Tommy Lynn played his bass, every bit as handsome as Tony Paul but hidden behind the large cowboy hat that he wore. Somehow I felt this was in lieu of the long hair I knew didn’t fit in with the wholesome Hollises, but he would have worn in a second if he thought he could get away with it. Tagg Hollis was the youngest son. He played the fiddle, wowing audiences regularly with a blistering solo that was part rock and part country.

  The band was driven by Gay to be professional and perfect, so they didn’t have much time for shenanigans, unlike the lead singer of their group. In fact, most didn’t even bother to know my name. I was at the low end of the totem pole, someone who barely warranted acknowledgement unless a drink was needed.

  My closest friend at Southern Nights was Jacinda, but her status as part of the talent was strictly for show. She was absolutely tone deaf. At first I thought she was being modest, but it became clear as I heard them rehearse that she hadn’t inherited the musical gene her brothers had. “I’m like my dad,” she admitted after a particularly grueling rehearsal, where Gay drove her hard to hit notes she simply wasn’t able to hit. After a while I began to suspect what she had been saying all along: they turned off her mic and just let her do a little dance in her sexy clothes to get some men in the audience.

  The pressure quickly got to the tall, confident brunette, who began drinking a little more often. She’d sit in my station, challenging to several men around her to drinking games, safely ensconced in her safety zone. And none of her new fans cared a lick if she could sing or not.