Hey There Delilah

Chapter 2

*Luke's P.O.V.*
It was 7:24am by the time I had reached the block that held my spot, a little curb on the corner of a Forever 21. Most teenage girls liked seeing a 20-year-old playing the guitar and singing. It was a good place for money.

If only they knew this was my only job, that I wasn't just some guy singing songs for entertainment. I'd been trying to become a professional musician for the past four years, and so far playing on street corners was the furthest I had gotten.

I'm met with a terrible site when I get to the end of the block. Some other guy had already taken my spot. I had seen him there from time to time, and he definitely wasn't as good as me but I never tried to get my spot back from him when he took it.

I had learned from experience in my own life that you never know a person's situation, or what they're going through. For example, I don't look like the type of person who's a single dad raising a little girl on his own.

I sigh and continue walking, there had to be another spot somewhere. I walk six more blocks until I reach a Panera Bread. There was no one else to be seen, so I set my guitar case down a few feet away from the entrance and open it up.

I tune my guitar by ear, I didn't have enough money for a tuner, and I leave the case wide open for cash. I ignore the weird looks I get from people walking in and out of the restaurant. I had learned to ignore them a long time ago, I had one mission and one mission only. Get home to my baby girl with enough money to get us through to the next day.

I decide to start with A Drop In The Ocean by Ron Pope. Most people I knew didn't want to hear punk rock songs this early in the morning. That was another thing I had learned, you had to play different songs depending on where you were playing. By the end of the song, I had a good $15.00 and it wasn't even 8:00am yet. This was definitely my new favorite spot.

I go with She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5 next. It's another one that I sing to Delilah when she starts throwing a fit. I used to sing it for another person too, but those are memories I refuse to think about.

I get through She Will Be Loved and move onto Sunday Morning, even though it was a Friday, and by the end of this I had $10.00 more. $25.00 altogether, not bad. That was enough for dinner and the laundry. I promised cousin Alex $35.00 by the end of tomorrow, maybe I'd be able to give him even more.

Alex is the owner of the complex Delilah and I live in. He knows our financial situation, how it got even worse when she left the baby and I. He lets us stay there for hardly anything at all.

At the beginning of each week, I tell him a set amount of cash I'll get to him by every Saturday. The amount varies based on what Delilah needs and how much I have left over from the previous week. It wasn't the best system, but it was all we had at the moment.

I decide to pick and choose songs from the album Plus by Ed Sheeran. He was easy to play and it seemed to get me the most cash. It was around 12:30pm and I had gotten through all twelve songs, ending with The A Team, when I decided to take a break, sitting down in a chair that you could sit on to eat outside.

I had $47.00, I hadn't gotten this much in months. I could pay Alex and still have enough for the laundry and a small dinner. The laundromat was about $5.00 if I wanted to use the dryer, meaning Delilah wouldn't have pajamas for a night or two. But I couldn't have her catching a cold, there definitely wasn't enough for medicine. That meant $7.00 for dinner, which I could work with.

"Excuse me, sir? Did you hear me?" I'm pulled from my thoughts by a little girl, seven or eight years old, standing in front of me with a paper bag in her hand. She had big blue eyes and long, blonde hair. Her eyes reminded me so much of Delilah.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there. Did you need something?" I say to her.

"Um, I just wanted to tell you that your voice sounds really nice when you sing. And I like your guitar, too," I smile at this and look over her shoulder to see who I assumed to be her father standing with his hands on his hips and a smile on his face. I give the man a nod and a little wave.

"Go on, Miranda," he says. I turn back to who I now know as Miranda, she gives me a small and shy smile.

"I thought that you must get hungry from playing for so long, so I brought you this," she hands me the paper bag and I take it from her. "I chose chicken noodle soup because it's my favorite and daddy says it's healthy. But I also got you a chocolate chip cookie because they make me happy and you looked like you could use some happiness."

I swear to God I almost cried at that. I look back over to her father, hoping that the tears forming in my eyes would be enough to say how grateful I was. Then I turn back to Miranda.

"Thank you very much, Miranda. You don't know how much I appreciate this. And you know what? I have a baby girl at home with the same blue eyes as you."

Her face lights up at my words and I notice her gaze drifting towards my guitar that's leaning against the side of the chair I'm sitting on.

"Would you like to learn how to play a few chords? If your dad is okay with it, of course." We both turn to her dad, and he gives a hesitant nod. Miranda climbs into my lap, and I place the guitar so that her little hands can reach the strings.

I imagine that it's me and Delilah when she gets older, learning how to play as good as her dad. Ten minutes go by and Miranda now knows how to play a C chord. She squeals with delight and hops off my lap when her dad tells her it's time to go.

"Thank you for teaching me, Mr. Luke. I hope you like the food!" I smile and wave bye to Miranda and her dad. I look inside the bag and see one giant cup of soup that will definitely get me through a couple days, along with a cookie and an apple.

Seeing the food makes me realize how hungry I am, I hadn't eaten breakfast this morning. I take out the apple, deciding I'd only eat half of it and save the other half for Delilah.

I spend the rest of the day playing music and saying thank you to the people that gave me money. It was almost robotic at this point, saying thank you.

I had been making money like this for the past two years. It wasn't exactly easy to get a job when you moved from Australia to NYC to pursue music and didn't have a high school education past junior year.

By the time 5:30pm rolls around I decide that I'd spent enough time away from Delilah and that I should go home. I set the guitar down, reaching into the case and throwing away the stuff that wasn't cash. Cigarettes, gum wrappers, things that idiots put in there.

I had $60.00 in dollars and $4.00 in change. Not a bad day at all. I pack up the guitar and clutch the paper bag tightly, making my way back to the complex. Back home to my baby.