Chapter Text
I walk back into our apartment and see Camden sitting on the couch watching The Office.
“Hey, baby, I’m home,” I say as I set my purse down and slip off my shoes.
“Hey,” Camden replies dryly, “can you grab me another beer when you get done getting comfortable?”
I roll my eyes as I walk toward the kitchen and grab him a beer from the fridge. “You’re coming with me to the open mic at the brewery tonight, right?” I ask as I hand him his new beer.
He cracks open his beer and shrugs, “I’ve been coming with you to those for years and recording all of them,” he takes a sip of his beer, “It’s been years, Meg, and nothing has come of it. How long is this going to go on?”
My jaw drops at his statement, and I turn on my heels to face him. “Cam,” I pause and take a deep breath, “Making music is my dream, and I’m going to keep doing it as long as I am able.”
“Meg,” he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “I-”
“Cam, don’t,” I snap, “You know this is my dream, and you’ve been supporting me for years. What changed?”
He stays silent, looking down at his phone as he takes another sip of his beer, and I sigh and walk to the bedroom and change into a pair of ripped jeans and a black short-sleeve blouse.
Once I’m done changing, I grab my guitar case, my phone, and my purse. I walk out the door without saying goodbye to Camden and make my way to Harvest Moon Brewing.
The open mic night is already in full swing by the time I walk through the brewery doors. One of the other musicians is already up on the small stage, singing a passable cover of a ’90s country song.
I make my way over to Mike, the local musician who puts on this event, to sign up for a time slot to perform. I sign up for the last spot on the list and do a mental celebration that I got here when I did.
After I give a smile to Mike, I head over to the bar and order a raspberry sour from the regular bartender, and head out to the small patio to make sure my guitar is tuned and to get a little bit of practice in. I sip my beer to calm my pre-show nerves as I softly strum the chords to the last of the three songs I’ll be performing tonight.
“I figured I’d find you out here,” says a familiar gruff voice as he walks up to me and sits across from me.
I look up and smile as I see Butcher, “Butch! I didn’t see the bike out front. Did you cage it here tonight?”
“Yeah, I did,” he looks around the small patio, “Where is that pretentious prick of yours tonight? Doesn’t he usually record your performances for you?”
I sigh and take a large sip of my beer, “He didn’t want to come tonight. We got into a… discussion about it before I left.”
“You wanna talk about it?” Butcher gives me a raised eyebrow, and I shake my head, “Alrighty, Meg. If you ever need anything, you know me and Red are here for you.”
I give Butch a smile, stand, and finish the last of my beer, “I know,” I look down at my phone and grab my guitar,” It’s time for me to perform, d’you mind recording for me tonight?”
“I would be honored to, Meg,” Butch stands, and I hand him my phone as we head inside.