Sunday, March 7, 2010
Whatever Lola Wants
She sat at the edge of the bar, hardly anyone ever came in on Thursday nights. She convinced the owner to let her have a few hours on stage. She was trying to find her voice; bouncing around from a lounge, to folk acoustic—there was even a week she brought in a DJ set. It didn’t matter what it was, it wasn’t half bad. There were the occasional regulars that enjoyed her, and she began to pick up some enthusiastic passerby’s that had begun to swing by for a song or two at the very least—one in particular, who she had begun to notice and began to notice that she would look forward to see him each week. Unfortunately though this reality of hers, the weekly shows were being threatened of coming to an end, there wasn’t as many people as there needed to be.
Sipping on her cocktail she was mustering up the will to step on stage to an empty room yet again. Was it her? Were people not coming in now because of her? It didn’t really matter anymore, she was hoping on just milking as much out of the situation as she could, hell if nothing else it was a story after all. She twirls the cherries that rested at the bottom, and placed the glass back on the coaster, grabbed her guitar and walked up.
The lights dimmed, and she plugged her guitar I; there was that awkward moment of feedback… not the best way to start. Walking to the piano that sat next to the mic, she turned on a slight beat—grabbed the guitar, and walked up to the mic. It was slow, but it had a strong rythym… it was sexy, in a very provocative way. Looking down to watch her hands work, she gathers a breath and begins playing along.
She looks up… towards him, “Whatever Lola wants… Lola gets…”
The entire bar got up and began to surround the stage.