‘And buy her a drink, as you’re probably going to do most of the talking. She’s shy,’ says Josie.
‘I hate you,’ the brunette says and rolls her beautiful grey eyes, which are the colour of English skies on September mornings, and even though I have barely left England, I feel a little homesick just then.
‘I know,’ Josie says and hugs her friend. Josie turns and walks towards the stage and leaves the two of us sitting there thrown together. She looks across at me and does this thing where she switches her jaw from side to side and then smiles and closes her eyes when she realises what’s she’s doing.
‘I’m Johnny, by the way,’ I say.
‘Lauren,’ she says, and she offers her hand, and I take it, and we do this soft little shake, and I offer to buy her a drink. She asks for a beer, and I order two more PBRs. I hand her the beer, and we touch our glasses and say cheers.
‘You were good when you got up there. I wasn’t sure if you would make it for a moment,’ Lauren says.
‘I wasn’t sure I would either. My throat went dry, the chords and words escaped me, and then that noisy girl at the front decided to be quiet. Totally threw me.’
‘But then you got going. My problem is that I can’t quite get over the nerves bit, my voice goes high. It’s not a good look,’ she says.
I find that hard to imagine as her voice has a softness to it and that southern lilt that makes you want to sit a bit closer.
‘I’m guessing you have a pile of songs somewhere,’ I say.
‘Funny you should say that. I do have one or two scribbled down in a Moleskine notebook. Pretty much redundant.’
‘A lot of people write songs and never take them out of the bedroom. The bedroom artists are a large unsung group. They need better representation,’ I say.
‘I suffer crippling nerves,’ she says.
‘You have the songs though, just saying.’
‘And thank you for that, but I have to ask if you’re not break-up guy, which guy are you?’
‘Wailing Break-Up Guy,’ I correct.
‘My bad, you’ll always be Wailing Break-Up Guy to me. I’ll tell my friends. I saw Wailing Break-Up Guy at his first US gig. People will be like “wow”,’ she says grinning.
‘First and only US gig,’ I say.
I’m about to answer, to tell her my story, to explain which guy I am, and how I ended up alone in this bar singing melancholy songs when Josie starts to talk. She introduces her first song as a few people hold their phones up and take pictures.
‘This one is called She Sleeps in the Afternoon,’ Josie says.
I hold that thought, and the story, and we turn to the stage as Josie begins to play with sweeping open chords. She has a haunting, ethereal voice which carries an achy hurt within it and is soft and bright. The song slowly builds as Josie stretches her voice before she turns it up for the chorus and brings it right back down.
In the bedroom by the lake, she sleeps in the afternoon.
Oh Louise why do you sleep in the afternoon…
There’s deserved enthusiastic clapping from the audience, as Josie is good. She pauses to adjust the tuning of her guitar and plays three more songs. She leaves the stage to shouts and applause. This includes the token drunk guy in the silver-studded, dirty denim waistcoat and Kiss t-shirt who is standing and punching the air as he shouts out ‘that’s what I’m talking about’. Standing by us again, she’s completely cool, no nerves whatsoever.
‘See – that’s what I want to be like,’ Lauren says.
‘I keep trying to coax her on stage, but she won’t get up there for love nor money, and I offer both,’ Josie says and puts her arm around Lauren, and they laugh together like it’s an old joke between two close friends. ‘So, did you get his story?’
‘Not quite,’ Lauren says. ‘Although I did get his name: Johnny, meet Josie.’
Josie holds out her hand, ‘Well, pleased to meet you,’ and we shake.
‘You were amazing, by the way,’ I say.
‘Why thank you. You can come back and can borrow my guitar anytime. And while I would love to stay and hear your story, I’m going to have to settle for the highlights. I have this thing, right?’
Josie looks at Lauren for a moment, gauges her friend’s reaction. She tips her head to one side, and she waves the index finger of her right hand back and forth, like a metronome marking the beat of the night. They’re doing that thing that girls do when one is leaving and is trying to work out if her friend wants to stay or go. I’m about to find out where this evening goes next. Do I get to sit longer with Lauren or will I be back on my own where I started. Right now, I am hoping it’s the former. I don’t know if that means anything or if this evening will take us anywhere further than the door of this bar, but I’d like to find out.
‘Lauren, though, doesn’t have a thing, right?’
‘No thing,’ Lauren says.
Josie places a hand on my shoulder and holds my gaze for a second or two. Then taps it a couple of times.
‘Why don’t you buy my friend another drink, but not too many, it’s a school night. Then make sure she gets home safely. She knows the way.’
Lauren rolls her eyes at this and shakes her head. ‘Josie,’ Lauren says in a measured voice.
‘I’m teasing,’ she says and she leans in and hugs her friend. She picks up her guitar and steps away from the bar. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘You too,’ I say.
‘Maybe later then,’ Josie says. ‘Who knows?’
With that, Josie is gone. The two of us are sitting alone again. This time we’re not so awkward. We pick up where we were before Josie took the stage.
