My Musical Cowboy

“Mind sharing what’s so funny?” she asked as she looked at the stranger. The man smiled and let out a laugh before he took another sip of his drink without even looking back at her. For a moment, she was annoyed and displeased. She had always had a way with men, and for him to act as if she was just another female on the street irritated her. He stood up and took off his leather jacket carefully placing it on the guitar beside him and sat back down. It was then that she noticed that the place was actually hot from the air that escaped from the main club area to the balcony.

“You do love your privacy, don’t you?” he asked as he looked at her. “By the way, the DJ is right behind that green veil near the exit if you still want to lodge a complaint.” His voice was casual while his eyes were still firmly planted onto the street below. Lilies turned to where she had been directed and noticed the dazzle of lights behind the green veil. But that was just scornful; she couldn’t do anything about it. When she shifted her gaze to him, he was picking up his guitar case with his back to her.

“Good day, ma’am,” he said before he walked away. His white shirt and cowboy hat caught the neon lighting as he disappeared into the crowd. All Lilies could see was a ghostly hat suspended in midair with a white veil trailing it as the people obscured him from view. She turned away and looked down the balcony almost a little bit embarrassed. She could still smell the man’s sweet cologne lingering in the air. She took a deep breath and shook her head. This was the first man she had come across who acted like she was some kind of ragdoll and somehow, this only seemed to draw her to him. She looked at his table and noticed the half-full scotch bottle and then reached over and took it. She poured herself some and took a small sip. It was all she could manage to keep down . . . She closed her eyes tightly as she felt the drink burn down her throat. This was truly a man’s drink, nothing like the wine she was used to. She was still recovering from the sting of the scotch when she heard a familiar voice.

“Can I have that back, ma’am?” she looked up and saw the cowboy smiling at her.

“I’m sorry . . . It was just . . . Can I get you another bottle?” she asked. The cowboy smiled and shrugged.

“Maybe after I play this set . . . if you’ll still be here, that is,” he said with a smile that disarmed her. His perfect teeth shone brightly in the neon lighting, and his moist lips caused her insides to churn. He looked to be in his early thirties, and his strong physique suggested that he worked out a lot. Her gaze was drawn to the bulge in his tight trousers, and she instantly felt org*smic. It was amazing just how much information a person could pick up in such a short time. As she watched him walk away, it suddenly dawned on her. ‘Play this set . . .’

“Wait, is he an artist or something?” she wondered as she watched him walk away.

Chapter 2

Cody’s contract had just expired at the Busy Bee, a third-rate hotel-cum bar where there were more hookers than waiters. After weeks of hopping from one club to the next, his manager, Mr. Gordon had settled on The Stallion not necessarily because they had better management but because the pay was a bit better than the rest. It was tough getting a contract for the kid since country music was not so popular in the city. Cody was just too much of a cowboy for the city. He had actually pitied Cody the moment he walked into his office until he had heard him sing. He’d had to give it to him – he was good. It took just a few minutes for him to fall in love with country music. Cody had the voice, the looks and definitely the gait. The cowhide hat with the hairs still fresh completed his looks. He chuckled every time he walked into his office and set his boots on the edge of his table. This was a confident man in the not-so-forgiving city, and he had his boots firmly planted in success.

“Hey, Mr. Cody, could you swing by the office sometime after 3:00pm? I think I might have got you something,” Gordon said excitedly as he fought an inner battle not to break the good news over the phone.

“Sure will, Mr. Gordon. Thanks, 3:00pm it is,” Cody said before he hung up. Gordon was excited. The initial payment would cover his rent for the next three months and get him one of those cordless phones he had wanted for so long. He looked around the office proudly. He only had six artistes to his name, and even with such a small number of people, he could feel himself getting back on track. It had been a long treacherous climb, but at least he could now feel himself climbing up the ladder of success.

*****

Cody left early for his first performance at The Stallion with an eager mind. All he had on him was his guitar, a bag containing his costumes and a transistor radio that hung from a strap round his neck. Everything else he’d left behind in a sticky motel in the alleys of the city after a scuffle had ensued with the management. He had been lucky to escape unscathed after the bouncers got called in on him. He swore that as soon as he got his sh*t together, he’d go back and beat the crap out of the manager. His pay had been delayed for three months, and he couldn’t stomach it. A fist fight had ensued, and he had dropped a number on the manager before the bouncers got to him. He had been tossed out unceremoniously with no hope of ever going back. He still had about $700 on him which would be sufficient for food and maybe a night or two in a shady motel. Cody knew that Gordon was getting tired of him sleeping in his living room, and things had to change . . . and soon.

When he got to the Humphrey & Charles building, he couldn’t imagine how his music would woo the fancy suits that streamed in and out of the huge commercial building. A small neon sign on the fifth-floor window announced to a keen onlooker that there was a private bar mostly meant to entertain the hardworking heads of the city. He dodged a few cars and ran across the road with his guitar firmly in his hand. When he got to the lobby, more suits seemed to stream in and out of the six elevators lined side by side across the huge reception area. He could catch his reflection on the highly polished ceramic floor. The faces of the suits looked smudged from the reflections, and it somewhat relaxed him. Their black attire looked like a set from The Matrix without the superpowers of course. He dashed across the hall to catch the closest elevator. A female suit held the door in open as she saw him darting toward it, but as he squeezed himself in, the guitar got caught by the door sending him hurling inward. He lost his balance and fell face-first into the elevator.

“Jesus, howdy, cowboy?” A man uttered in a displeased tone as he stepped back while Cody struggled to get up. He realized that he was clearly out of place amongst them when he noticed some of them smiling at his expense. He stood up and collected his items, but his composure and dignity seemed to have been left on the floor. He got off on the fourth floor and walked up the stairs as he brushed his pants clean.

“Cu*ts,” he thought as he went up the stairs. He headed for the manager’s office when he got to the fifth floor. He could not help but notice the way the hallways looked breathtaking; the air even smelled expensive. Porcelain oil burners were positioned in square glass boxes along the walls about five meters apart heading to the bar’s main entrance. The lighting was subdued by the LED ceiling that transformed into multi-colored ripples. The whole floor was a thick two-inch highlighter-blue carpet. He instantly felt like removing his heavy boots to feel the cool soft fabric caress his hot toes. He found the manager’s office just beside the main entrance. As he was about to knock, the heavy wooden door swung open, and a short stocky man stepped out. Their eyes met, but he held his gaze and then turned back to lock the door.

“Howdy, sir, I’m here for my appointment,” Cody said hoping that he sounded as professional as humanly possible.

The stout man with the not-so-intelligent face turned toward him. Cody raised an eyebrow as he took his features in. He had grease stains on his collar possibly from devouring an oily chicken breast. The stain was magnified even more by the neon lighting, but Cody couldn’t utter a word. A shiny name tag on his shirt read ‘Graham’.

“Come and show me what you’ve got cowboy,” the manager said as he walked to one corner of the office where there was a big aluminum door that was, Cody noticed, adjoined to the club in the building. The club was beautifully designed, and the décor was breathtaking. The stage was raised above the main floor and beautifully lit from all angles, and the sound system was top notch. Large photos of famous artistes hung from the silk painted walls each with an under-light illuminating the artist’s name. The bar was well stocked with tall thin glass bottles containing, most notably, blue concoctions that seemed to keep the thirst of the busy suits at bay. Chrome was the theme, and it spun from the bar through the heavy metal furniture to the knee-hugging stools extending out to the expansive balcony: everything was just shiny. The manager didn’t waste time; he gestured to Cody to take the stage and went over to the DJ booth to align his guitar with the sound system. A couple of jacks and volume controls and he was ready to go. Graham trotted to the middle of the main bar area and sat down while a waiter rushed to his side, ready to take his order. None of the people in the bar had noticed him walk in, and chatter filled the air.