He hands the Les Paul to Max. “I’m gonna go look at the Citation for a sec.” He strides across the room to look at a guitar that must be worth more than my house.
Max says, “You’re welcome to come back and play anytime, Maya.”
I look over at Jesse. “Yeah, maybe sometime.”
“You don’t have to come back with him,” Max says. “You just drew a crowd playing solo.”
That makes me feel really good. “Thanks! I’ve always wanted to come in your store—I was excited when Jesse suggested it.” I smile over at him. He’s staring at the Citation’s toggle switch like a scientist examining a molecule under a microscope.
Max lowers his voice. “I’ve known Jesse for a long time, and he’s never brought anyone here but his manager, and even that’s rare. He usually makes appointments and comes by himself.”
Wow. So coming in here with me was a big change for him. Maybe he would be open to getting out even more. How can I show him he doesn’t have to stay holed up, alone and friendless?
“He’s such a nice person,” I say.
“I’m sure he is. It’s a shame he’s quitting…I’ve never had a student who’s that good.”
“You give lessons?”
Max folds his hands in front of him. “I teach advanced guitar to a few talented people. Some of my students have gone on to get scholarships at Vanderbilt.”
“Wow.” I would love to go there to study music, but it’s very expensive, and the only way I could go is if I win one of those scholarships. I’ve been planning to try out for one later this fall, but if that doesn’t work out, I’ll go to Middle Tennessee State. It’s more affordable, and the music program is pretty good.
“Are you still in high school?”
I stare down at my boots, then nod.
Max pulls a card out of his wallet and passes it to me. “If you’re interested in some lessons, email me. I could help improve your technique.”
My hand shakes as I accept the card. “Thank you.”
Jesse finally tears himself away from the Citation. “Gotta go, Max. I’ve got some sort of surprise waiting.”
Outside the store, we walk beneath a pink sky toward the waterfront. The sunset gives his face a rosy glow.
“That video Uncle Bob showed me doesn’t do you justice. You’re really good on guitar.”
“Thank you.” I tell him about Max offering to give me lessons and how some of his students went on to get big music scholarships. “I’d love to win a scholarship to Vanderbilt, but I don’t have the money for lessons…and I doubt I’d do well in auditions, you know, by myself.”
“You have to take chances to get a chance at your dreams.”
I pause. “Did you graduate high school? Would you consider going to college?”
He stops. “I got my GED, but I have no idea what I’d even study in college. I don’t really have other interests besides music. And with my life, it’s like I have nothing left to go for. I have all the money I’ll ever need. My goal was to win a Grammy, and now I’ve got three.”
“You need a new goal.”
“Like what?”
“Figure out how to be happy again.”
His face hardens into a frown. “I’ve been happy today, you know, talking to you about music and your life.”
“You really helped me with my technique. And you said you thought something was missing in your life…maybe you could give music lessons?”
He takes a step back. “No way. People don’t really want to learn; they’ll just want record deals and favors and shit. They’re not like you.”
I get right back in his face. “You can’t lump all people together like that.”
That’s when the boat whistle toots. It’s time. Shit, we’re gonna be late. I start sprinting down to the docks as best as I can in my booties.
Jesse calls out, “Where’re you going?” but I keep running. I wait until I’ve made it to where the boat is docked and turn around. He chases after me in his cowboy boots, holding his hat on his head so it doesn’t blow away. When he’s close, I run up the plank and hop down onto the riverboat’s deck. A sign reads, “Private Party.” I can already hear the music.
“No,” he says, still on land, out of breath. His eyes glisten as he stares at the Belle Carol Riverboat from the docks. “No way. I can’t.”
Suddenly the engines roar to a start.