Coffee with Mr. Casey

19 - The Gig

Johnny

My hands ached from gripping the steering wheel too much, being the only thing I could do to relieve stress. Cigarettes weren’t an option, especially after going five weeks since I last lit up. I still wanted one—craved for one. There were going to be really important people at open mic night, and I was up in half an hour.

Lola sat quietly in the passenger seat, glancing at me from the corner of her eye. She was nervous but not as nervous as I.

“Are we going to go in?” she asked.

I slid my hand across her lap and entwined my fingers with hers. “Just a few more minutes,” I told her.

She squeezed my fingers and smiled. “Okay. Take your time.”

To keep my mind off the gig I was about to screw up, I focused on her dress; floral, with every warm color splattered everywhere. It looked like a grandma’s couch, but I liked it. Especially when she wore it just for this occasion—for me.

“You look beautiful,” I said. It wasn’t the first time I’d told her that tonight.

Lola tugged on my arm and pulled me close to brush her lips against my cheek. “Keep on telling me that, and we’ll have to go back to your apartment,” she whispered softly in my ear.

“Can we?” I chuckled.

She placed her hand on my cheek and turned my head to face her. “You’ll regret it if you don’t do this, Johnny.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I am right. Now let’s get you ready for this gig.” She stepped out of the car and hopped around to my door.

When I didn’t get out, she bent down and knocked on my window. “I guess I’ll go in there and get on stage for you?”

The thought of her getting up there and improvising on a guitar sounded pretty disastrous. She’d convinced me to get out of the car.

I couldn’t even get on my feet before Lola wrapped her arms tightly around me in a hug. “You’re going to knock ‘em dead,” she reassured.

I placed my arms around her back and rested my chin on her shoulder. I’d never met anyone who had faith in me as much as Lola did—complete and total faith.

 I sadly smiled, as I held onto her for a bit longer, clinging onto her soft cotton dress. The thoughts of her leaving for college crept up on me at the worst of times. I knew it wasn’t a definite thing of getting in, mainly because I’d gotten her expelled. The least I could do was help her try.

But some days, I hoped that none of the schools would accept Lola just so I could keep her. It was cruel, I know.

I was selfish for wanting to keep her all to myself, especially after agreeing to the proposition, which would leave me broke, jobless, and unable to take care of someone, let alone myself. Even then, we would always have to hide our relationship because everyone fucking knows I’m a teacher.