Blinded By the Light (a Nathan Sykes fan fiction)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

            I awoke in a panic, the realization that I forgot to set my alarm for work causing me to shoot upright. I glanced at my phone, groaning as it informed me it was Saturday. I sat up and one glance in the mirror told me if I wanted decent hair a shower would be a must. I peeked out the curtains to see it had finally stopped raining and looked like it might become a sunny day. I hopped into my tiny shower stall and washed up, deciding to shave my legs so I could wear shorts.

            I dried my hair with my blow dryer and let my hair fall into its natural waves. I pulled on my denim shorts, a black sport bra, a light pink knit crop top, exposing my midsection. I threw on my black Converse, which had thankfully dried overnight. I decided to look more bo-ho today and put a braided headband around my head, crossing over my forehead.

            With my schedule blissfully free, I decided to go to the park and busk like I did when my parents still lived in London. I walked the block and a half there and found a big shady tree to sit under. I settled down and left my guitar case open for any tips I might receive.

            I tuned my Gibson and began strumming the beginning of the new song I was writing. I completed the intro before I began to softly sing the lyrics.

            There were stars in my eyes as I held up my prize, it was your love. You never gave me a thought but you said you’d give us a shot. Who ever knew just how true that would be? My heart only beats for you, now it breaks cause of you. It’s like you pulled the trigger.

            There are bullet holes in my heart. Don’t even know how I haven’t fallen apart. Cause it’s shattered, pieces scattered all around. Don’t even know how I’m alive, full of bullet holes.

 

            I stopped abruptly. A shadow overtook me as someone approached behind me. A hand reached and set a plastic cup of lemonade in my guitar case. I looked up to see my best friend. “Hey Drew,” I said, waving slightly.

            “You didn’t have to stop on my account, Lilly,” He said, sitting beside me in the grass.

            “How’d you know I was even here?”

            “I heard rumors floating around the shack that there was a strawberry girl busking under a tree and I thought, who else?”

            “How is the shack doing?” He had a small hut that served hot dogs and lemonade to park-goers and we’ve called it the shack since before he bought it out.

            “Business is booming today, being that it’s so sunny,” he said, vaguely gesturing to the sky, “now answer me, why’d you stop?”

            “Well, it’s kind of a duet. Care to join?”

            “You know I don’t sing, Lilly. You want tips not complaints,” Drew laughed at himself.

            “Whatever, you sing amazing, you just need to stop denying the truth,” I poked his cheeks, causing him to blush a shade similar to his red mop of hair.

            “Whatever, yourself. Hey I have good news. The Wanted got drunk right here in London yesterday.”

            “Exciting,” I faked interest, wondering why this was news to me.

            “Aye, lass,” he exaggerated his already thick Irish accent, “now the news is that their guitarist, Murray something-or-other, went with them. He got utterly smashed. He thought the limo was a stage, climbed on top and rocked the air guitar. Apparently the rain made it pretty slick. He fell off and broke his arm in two places, fractured his wrist, and dislocated his thumb. Now the reason I’m mentioning this utterly boring story. The Wanted are looking for a replacement guitarist while he heals. Cue Lilliana Winston, expert guitarist searching for her big break.”

            I laughed at his poor attempt at an announcer’s voice. “I’m nowhere near good enough to play for an international boy band.”

            “Sure you are, look at how many tips you got just doing the first verse of a song,” He pointed to my case, which held probably close to £124.

            I shrugged like it was no big deal. He pointed at me as he stood, “Anyway, tryouts are Monday, I think you should go,” he said as he walked away.

            Missing a whole day of work for a chance seemed way too risky for my taste. I didn’t really take risks that much. The biggest risk I ever took was staying in London to live on my own. Which I suppose that had been working pretty well. Maybe I should try for that spot. Like Andrew said, I was searching for my big break, and that could be it.

            I sipped on my lemonade and pondered what Drew had told me. I played a few more songs and ended up tripling my money. I guess the weather had people in a generous mood. I packed up my guitar and headed along the pathway until I came across the shack. I walked up and rang the bell, getting Drew’s attention. “Come for more of the best lemonade in London?” he grinned like the Cheshire cat.

            “Not quite. Where was that audition taking place, exactly, you know, in case I decide to go,” I sputtered, in a flustered state due to the way Drew was giving me the ‘I told you so’ glare.

            “It’s in the old building on Cairnfield Avenue,” he informed me with a knowing look.

            “Thank you, you are utterly helpful,” I said sarcastically.

            “I know,” He smiled as I walked away.

            I figured then I would go back to my flat and work on that wretched chord. I slaved for hours. I took minimal breaks, just to eat and use the loo, and finally nailed it Sunday night. I did my victory dance and went to bed so I could be fresh for the audition.

            I was kept up longer than I wanted, due to my nerves I suppose. My dreams were haunted with failure and rejection. I slept horribly, but hoped it would have no bearing on my playing. I was taking a humongous chance with missing a day of work for something that may or may not happen. I was putting my neck on the line. No, I was putting my job on the line. My house. My livelihood.

            I hoped this worked out.