One Night Only

The crowd disbursed from the front of the stage, rather too quickly. What little crowd there was. Nick picked up his worn guitar case and headed for the front door. He used to exit out the back to avoid his “fans”, not much reason now. He stopped under the partially lit marquee, looked up at the burnt-out lights, thought that was him now, just a burnt-out bulb.

Nick slowly walked down the street alone. The band had left together, he was after all only a sideman, picked up for one night only. He told himself it was ok, he had given it his all, and damn it he sounded good tonight. The regular guitar player would be out of rehab soon and things would be back as they were.

“Nick your great, better than that other guy” someone had shouted.

People say stupid things when they're drunk. Nick was not nearly drunk enough to start believing them.

“Thanks, it’s a great band”, gotta play the game he had shouted back.

Usually, he could convince himself they were right. Not tonight. Tonight he knew he was worn out, middle-aged, and past it, not even a has-been, just a never was. The band, ‘Missing Nights’were truly horrendous but he took the blame. Always did. Lead guitar. Something didn’t go as planned it was usually his fault so he got used to being wrong.

He had parked a few blocks away so the ‘crowds’ wouldn’t piss on his car. Sounded better in his head than he ‘parked so no one would see his car’. The band had a limo for this gig, fuck, they needed music lessons, not a limo, he chuckled to himself. Still, they had a record deal, he had shit. Tomorrow he would be back behind the bar at Joe’s. Stale beer and the worst hamburgers in this hemisphere. Well at least the rest of tonight was his and they had paid him in cash. A hundred in singles and a bag of what he hoped was decent weed. The greenbacks would help keep the wolves at bay and the other green stuff would help to numb his aching brain. Seemed that was the only thing he had now, get numb, try to forget.

Nick slumped into the one chair in his one-room flat. Stared at the wall above his lonely bed and mechanically started to roll a joint. A room of one’s he thought to himself, one chair, one bed, one table, and one old useless guitar player, alone again. It wasn’t that long ago that JC, Jaqueline C whatever the fuck her last name was had been staying with him. Then her ‘people’ found her and hauled her ass off to rehab. She didn’t have a drug or alcohol problem, 'guitarist addiction'. They had rehab for “addiction to guitarist’ who knew. At the time he thought it was silly, a chick having a guitarist addiction. She had picked the wrong band member to shack up with. Hope she was doing fine.

Nights were long for Nick. Longer than they should be and getting harder to get through, the joint helped. The gig had been a last-minute thing. His agent had called and said to be at the club “4th and Pine” by 7 pm for a gig with an up-and-coming rock act. They would have charts for the songs so no problems. The band was late, the bar owner was yelling at me like it was my fault, and all they had were scribbled lyric sheets with chord names on them.

Nick had done his best, hell he wasn’t even sure they knew what city they were in, but he played with passion and all his skill to please the fans. Someday these rock god wannabe’s would wake up and realize they were only as good as their last show. The joint was starting to have its blessed effect as Nick sat in his one chair and stared at the worn guitar case. That old beat-up Fender Strat was all he had left now of better days, concerts, groupies, and the parties. Yeah, it had been quite a ride. Nick drew on the joint. Well maybe not.

Nick thought about getting the 'Strat' out and playing, then thought better of it. His hands hurt from the gig, hadn’t played much in some time. His agent had said this might lead to some more work. Nick knew it wouldn’t. His agent’s words ringing in his drug numbed mind, ‘this is one night only’. Yeah, Nick thought to himself, the story of my life.

He reached up and pulled the chord on the one light bulb in the room. Darkness, sleep, get through the night. Hope for another; one night only.

There was always tomorrow.