Broken

arrived, have you?”
“It’s been kinda sucky...” Her words trailed off as she sighed.
“Stay for a while. Talk to me. We both know you’ve nowhere else to go.”
“I do—”
“Stop lying, Nattie. Now get back in here, or I’ll throw your sweet ass over my shoulder and carry you in.”
“Fine.” She stomped back into the bar like a sulking teenager. Stifling a chuckle, I locked the door and followed.
“Sit,” I said, motioning toward a bar stool.
“I’ll stand.”
“Drink?”
“I’m underage.”
I raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “You’ve never had a drink before?”
“I’m nineteen, not nine. It’s 3 am. I’m tired. I need a shower and some sleep.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “You’ve already been so good to me, and I hate to ask, but can I crash here till I get some money together? A pullout sofa or the floor. I’ll sleep just about anywhere.”
“Only if you do me a favor.”
“What would that be?” she asked, her face turning wary. “I’m not sleeping with you or sucking your dick or doing any weird shit that involves me calling you Daddy.”
“Woah there.” The fire in her eyes was seconds away from burning a hole in my chest. “Tomorrow morning over coffee, tell me your story.”
“My story?”
“The truth about what brought you here.”
“Once upon a time, I got on a bus to Nashville so I could write songs and then sing those songs. The end.”
“Sing something,” I challenged.
“What?”
“You heard me. Sing me a song.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Depends who you ask.” I grabbed a stool and slammed it on the ground a few feet from the stage. “Get on up there. Show me what you got. This is your one shot to prove you deserve a permanent spot on The Strangled Cat’s roster.” If she was any good, I could maybe squeeze her in as an opening act. Might piss off a few people on the waitlist, but too bad for them.
“No fucking way.” From the way her gaze bounced from me to the stage to her guitar, I could tell she was considering my offer. “I’m not ready. I’m not prepared.”
“Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are.” I was goading her but didn’t care. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” she said between her teeth.
“Prove it.”
Natalie
“Watch me.”
Challenge accepted.
I climbed on to the stage. My heart pounded like a herd of scared, stampeding cattle, and every step I took echoed in my ears.
In a few minutes, I’d sing on the same stage my idol once had. I wanted to prove to Colt I had what it took, and that I wasn’t afraid of anything. That no matter the grind, I would make the big leagues.
Singing at 3 am with less than eight hours’ sleep over the past few days was pure insanity and wasn’t the kindest way to treat my vocal cords.
My mom always said my gritty voice was caused by me being a colicky baby and that I sometimes sounded like an old lady with a liquor problem. At this moment, I would sound like I’d knocked back a full bottle of moonshine, then smoked a 20-pack of cigarettes one after the other.
I stood in the middle of the stage and looked out at the empty bar. Shivers ran up and down my back. It didn’t matter that Colt was the only one who would hear me sing because I was right where I wanted to be—on stage playing music.
I plucked the strings and did a little tuning. “Any requests?”
“Lady’s choice.”
I could stay in the safe lane and sing something he would know, or I could sing one of my own. After a few seconds weighing up the pros and cons, I went with one of my own.
Something slow would sound perfect in a place like this. I wrote it one night after my dad’s fists, not satisfied with knocking holes in walls, decided to knock holes in me instead.
I closed my eyes and let the words and music flow over me.
“You can knock me down, you can call me names, you can even blame me till I feel ashamed, but you won’t break me, you’ll never break me, never break me...”
The final notes washed over me, and I opened my eyes, breaking the spell. I met Colt’s gaze but couldn’t get a read on him. Did he think I was talentless, or that I sounded too old fashioned? My music wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea, I understood that.
Colt didn’t speak, and while he sat in silence looking lost in contemplation, I stayed where I was, fiddling with my guitar strap.
“Where’ve you performed before?” he finally asked.
“A few county fairs,” I replied, hearing the anxiety in my voice. “Street corners, but mainly my bedroom.”
Not taking his eyes from me, he nodded.
A nervous twinge tickled my stomach. “From the look on your face, there’s no room on your stage for me.”
Colt bounded onto the stage, cupped my cheeks in his hands, and brushed his thumbs over my skin. “Darlin’, there’s gonna be room for you on every stage in the goddamn U S of A.” He was so close that if I stood on my tiptoes, our lips would meet. “I can’t remember the last time I heard a song so pure and haunting. Your voice gave me chills on top of chills.”
For a split second, my heart stalled, and to stop myself from keeling over, I reached out and held onto his iron-hard biceps. “You’re not just saying that?”
“One thing you should know about me, sweetheart, is that I don’t lie. If you’d sounded like a strangled cat up there, I would’ve said so.”
I laughed. “Bad singers—is that how this place got its name?”
He chuckled, and in the low