I keep driving, and as badly as I want my car to take me to Avery’s, I don’t go—I only go when she wants me—at least for now. I make the turn down my mom’s street, and I’m dreading the empty day ahead of me. But just as I’m about to turn the engine off, I hear it—it’s Ray’s sign. Maybe I just want it to be there, but it seems so rare for this to be happening now.
My car radio is tuned to one of the popular stations, the ones that play nothing but the top hits. But for some reason, right now, they’re playing Otis. It’s “Tenderness,” and the words could not possibly be any more exact about Avery. I’m stunned silent; I sit there and listen to every last plea that man makes when he sings—begging me to listen to him, to try what he says, just like Ray would. Before the song is over, I’m actually laughing, and I back out of the driveway to head into the city for the day.
“You sneaky old man, you. You want me to go ahead and try crazy,” I say, my hands playing drums on my steering wheel. “All right, but if this blows up in my face, and I come out looking like an idiot—that’s all on you.”
Avery
“Ave, I can’t find a spot anywhere in the damn lot,” Claire says over the phone.
“Hang on, I’ll meet you out back. I’ll move something so you can get in,” I say, holding the phone on my shoulder while I push a crate in front of the door to hold it open. I see her pulling in, Max in the back seat; I wave and hang up.
I slide two of the trash bins as far forward as I can, and it leaves her just enough room for her car.
“Thanks! I swear, there must be a thousand people here!” she says, holding the back door open for Max. Claire picked him up from school for me today and went through homework at home, knowing how much I had on my plate for tonight’s opening. I’m doing my best to juggle, but it’s still a lot to keep up with. I’m not sure I’ll be able to fit school in the mix.
The dining room is already packed, and there’s a wait, several people deep, just to get a chance to be inside. It looks like I’ll be flipping on the outside speakers for tonight’s gigs.
It’s all hands on deck tonight. Max learned how to work the video editor on my phone, and he said he was going to record the reopening. I’ve been keeping my eyes peeled for Mason—he said he would try to come. He’s been helping out at the bar over the last two weeks, getting things ready, and sorting through the inventory. He always understood that side of the business better than me—he spent a lot of time here with my dad.
Barb’s running the front door, making the list of acts for the night as people sign up. I told her to cap it at twenty or else we’d never make it home, but I can already tell she’s blown that—the lists looks to be about two pages long. I guess it’s a big night though, so what’s one all-nighter to kick Dusty’s off with a bang?
“We should probably get things started,” she says, yelling above the crowd of thirsty college coeds in between us. Cole brought in a friend to help work the bar, and I’m starting to wish he brought two when some of the customers start to push their way up front and pound on the bar.
“Hey!” Claire whistles down at the far end, standing up on one of the stools and holding a bottle over her head. “All right folks, listen up. This is Avery’s first night, and we’re all figuring this out, so cut us some slack, okay? We’ll get to you, and you’re in for some great music tonight, so just take it down a notch and relax.”
A few of the men start to applaud her, mostly because they like the view of her black Dusty’s shorts from where they’re standing, but they’re the right men to have on her side—big, tattooed, and ready to step in if the college guys get out of hand. Things seem to settle into place after that, and Cole and his friend Derrick get the drinks flowing fast.
I take the mic from Barb and flip it to on, tapping once or twice until I hear the pop of the sound. I’ve always been behind the stage—in the dark, listening to Mason or my dad—or off to the side while my father did the announcing. My next task has my arms sweating, and my hands shaking uncontrollably; when I step up on the stage and see nothing but a sea of ball caps, cowboy hats, big hair, and hundreds of faces, I almost fall off the stage.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, remembering how simple my dad always kept things, and I go for it. “Hey there everyone. Welcome to Dusty’s!” I say, and the entire place busts out in applause. It chokes me up to see how much people love Dusty’s, because I know it’s really a reflection of how much they love my dad, and I have to pause for a few seconds and hold my hand over my mouth until I can regain my composure.