THE GIG OF A LIFETIME, PART IV; A SHORT STORY

Sweats had been playing with the band for a few weeks when Joe approached him, as he was getting ready to head for home.  “Hey, Sweats.  Good session, man.”

As he packed up his instrument, Sweats said, “Thanks, Joe.  I love playing with you guys.  The best time I have is when I’m up here on the stage.”

Joe said, “I’ve got to tell you, kid.  When I first laid eyes on you, I had my doubts.  Shit, they were more than doubts, but you proved me wrong.  Telling you honest, we all play better since you joined the group.  Hell, Mac hired us to provide background music while folks sit out there and drown their sorrows.  But you notice something about the people now?”

“No, sir,” Sweats said.  “Can’t say I do.”

“They’re listening to us play, Sweats.  When we start up, the room quiets down.  You’re good and playing with you is making us better.”

Sweats responded, “Thanks, sir.  I appreciate that.”  But he was embarrassed by the praise, and deep inside, knew he still had a ways to go.

He made for the door, then turned and said, “Thanks, Joe, for the encouragement.”

As soon as he left the club, he broke into a heavy sweat.  The excitement of playing with the band initially blocked out the fact that he would still have to walk the same dangerous streets he walked to school, but now at night.  His mother’s words came back to him.  He felt a new level of terror as he walked the streets past midnight.  On the way home, men he knew by reputation had approached him.  During the day, they were around but kept a low profile.  Nighttime was the time they owned the streets, when the fears that gave Sweats his name became reality.  The only time Sweats felt alive and safe was when he played his music.  Feeling the frustration of his life, he shouted into the night, “I just want to play!”  He was tired of his life bouncing between the deepest fear and greatest ecstasy.

What Sweats didn’t know was that his plea was heard.