My Kind of Country

Chapter Six

Tonight was my last show with the bluegrass band, and as we played through the final song in our set, I was more than a little upset at that. Over the past month, I'd grown used to performing in front of a crowd and playing with a group of dedicated musicians. Going back to my previous anonymity was going to be an adjustment. 

I glanced over at Marty, who was currently playing a mandolin solo. He'd been so helpful in pushing me to be a better player. As a touring musician, he had a wealth of experience and connections that surpassed even Professor Vargent's. I considered myself lucky to have had the chance to work with him. Not to mention, he'd been helping me with the song I was writing for my final project for my music composition class. Not to brag or anything, but I sincerely doubted any of my classmates had gotten feedback from such an accomplished musician. 

Chris, the guitarist, stepped forward as he began a flat picking solo, and I watched in admiration as his fingers danced across the strings. I was a decent guitar player, but Chris was in a whole other league. He played like a man possessed, with incredible accuracy, somehow managing to achieve perfect tone and clarity in each note despite his blazing speed. 

Anna Beth, who sang and played fiddle, began the final verse, her voice clear and controlled, with the natural twang of a girl who was southern born and raised. I was going to miss this group. I knew that their regular banjo player, Ricky, was recovered from his back injury and ready to resume his spot in the band, but it was hard not to resent him for it. 

Which was ridiculous. It wasn't as though I was being replaced. This had only ever been a temporary gig. That didn't make it any easier, though, to go back to the monotony of my regular life. For the past month, I'd spent every spare moment playing music with the band and performing. I'd essentially been living my dream. Now, I wasn't sure what was next for me. 

In the front row, Cade beamed and flashed me a thumbs up sign. He'd been to several of my shows, and had made a point of being there tonight to support me. We'd been out on a few dates, and while I wasn't sure yet where our relationship was headed, I really did like him. He was such a genuinely nice guy, it was hard not to. I smiled back, even as my eyes misted up a little at the thought of this being my last show. I was being completely ridiculous. There was nothing to cry over. 

The show ended with raucous applause from our appreciative audience, and I followed my band mates off the stage, clinging to my banjo as though it were the lifeline keeping me grounded. In some ways, it was. If I thought too hard about saying goodbye to the band, I was going to cry, and there was no way I was letting that happen. 

I wiped at my eyes, trying to prevent any moisture from escaping, and tucked my banjo into its case. In the relative quiet of the backstage area, I took deep, cleansing breaths, attempting to control my emotions. 

"Mia, do you have a minute?" Marty asked. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

I swiped at my eyes again before turning to face him, hoping he wouldn't be able to tell how upset I was. That would be so embarrassing. 

"Sure," I said, forcing a smile. 

"Mia, this is Jack Donaldson. Jack, this is Mia, the young lady I was telling you about. She's been playing with us for the past month, and I've been impressed with her skill and professionalism."

I blushed at the compliment, glancing back and forth between the two of them. There was something going on here, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was. 

"Thanks," I said. "I've really enjoyed playing with the band. It's been a dream come true. And it's nice to meet you, Mr. Donaldson."

"Please, call me Jack," he said. "It's nice to meet you too. Listen, I'm going to cut right to the chase. I own a recording studio, and one of my clients is looking to add some bluegrass sounds to his new song. A banjo part, specifically. Is there any chance you'd be interested in coming out to the studio and playing some backing tracks for him? It's unpaid, and not glamorous work, but it would get you real studio experience."