Gig

Matt picked me up from my work – a small, run-of-the-mill café – with a big smile plastered on his face. I raised an eyebrow at him as we walked side by side back home. We used to have a car but we had to sell it.

I got a gig at a local club!” He exclaimed, head over heels. I could only smile for him. This was always the ongoing dream. That he would become a professional musician, but we had yet to see a record deal. But a gig was a good start. This club was actually paying him a decent amount too. I just hoped he didn't do anything foolish with the money.

The next evening I swapped shifts to go watch him. I know I needed the money but Matt always complained that when I didn't turn up, calling me his lucky charm. I sat on a table to the side and listened to his soft voice. He was singing the songs we'd written together – I had no clue about guitar rifts or chords, but he always wanted my opinion and possible edits on lyrics. By the time he reached the final song most of the club was completely enraptured. As he played the last, major note a cheer grew from the crowd. I caught a man walking past on the phone out of the corner of my eye, but gave it no thought. Then ten minutes later I saw him again. He had a curly black mane of hair, and startling ice blue eyes. He said his name was Kevin, and that he wanted to sign Matt.

The End

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