“Any monkey could do that,” Jason softly sneered taking a swig of his beer.
The sombre guitar story of never being good enough and always coming in last place wasn’t helping his mood. Words that struck too close to home today crooned through the haze of cigarette smoke and taunted him.
“It’s open mic, how about you give it a try?” the woman at the next table asked.
Damn, no one was supposed to hear his retort, but he was sure he could do better, on a better day. Quiet applause from the crowd at his favourite bar announced the end of that performance.
“Come on. It’s easy, monkey see, monkey do,” her acid tone challenged.
“I’m not in the mood tonight,” Jason declined. Being rejected twice in one day was all that he could take. “Besides I don’t have a guitar.” He wasn’t going to admit to smashing it and his spare after the seventh letter of polite decline that week for a single that apparently lacked emotion.
“Use mine,” she said holding up a gorgeous lady whose strings he would love to strum any other day. “Let’s see how much better you can do,” she stabbed, kissing the musician coming off the stage as he sat down at her table.
Jason’s competitive persona took over and he headed for the stage with the borrowed instrument. He sang a new piece inspired by his latest rebuffs. Every word a dagger taken from his chest to leave via his tongue.
He could barely see the standing ovation through the tears.
by Debbie Gravett © 2019.11.10
FFFC: Flash Fiction Challenge #39
Image by Papafox at Pixabay.com