Chapter 1
 

I still remember it like it was yesterday. I’d just flown back into Nashville, TN from LA. And boy were my arms tired. Bad joke, I know. I’ve never been much of a comedian. I remember I’d decided to hit Lower Broadway before I went lookin for a motel.
 

As I took that very first step, off that downward hill onto Broadway… just in front of the Ryman Auditorium. I felt it once again y’all. I felt that feeling of home.

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I was once again blasted with screamin guitars, crashin cymbals, poundin drums and wailin vocals. All three blocks of bars were already alive, both sides of the street. Even at this early evening hour y’all, Nashville was alive and kickin. Every floor had a different band playin at each bar. Blocks and blocks, rows and rows, floor upon floor of live music.

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Just like that very first time I’d stepped onto Lower Broadway a few years back. Right in this exact same spot too.

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Except this time y’all. This time, instead of a warm, but cool, September evening. It was a chilly, cold really, December night. The sun had officially set. And the bitter cold wind whippin down the street, it was bitin at mah cheeks. Makin mah nose run too. I hate that. Mah nose runnin that is. 

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Definitely a far cry from the SoCal and Florida nights I’d become accustomed to. Those evenins I’d been spendin in the years I’d been absent from Music City. Though those last several nights in LA, they got bitter too. 

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In more ways than one.

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Even with the crisp bite in the air, the windows were still open in all the bars. Those little dance floors heat up when people get ta movin y’all. And I was soakin in the sounds and feelings of home. 

 

Cause that’s when I feel most at home y'all. Bein involved in Country Music. I’d been preparing myself for this moment for four years. Four years of absolute hell, pain and torture.

 

But I was finally putin mah past behind me. I was ready for this opportunity and for this new start in mah life. I refocused my attention on the glow of those neon lights. Those iconic symbols that brighten so many of my favorite Country songs. 
 

It was the most beautiful sight I’d seen in a long time. Helluva lot better than those broken down buildings of Hollywood. 

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Nashville's Honky Tonk scene was definitely welcomin me back y’all. And it was welcomin me back in all of its fine glory.

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I walked to my old favorite spot. One almost to the end of Broadway, down there by the river. I had some pleasant conversation with the doorman as he verified my ID. And then y’all. Then I walked into heaven. 

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At least what this rebel cowboy calls heaven.

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The evenin hadn’t really gotten started yet. But it was a Friday night. So I knew it would be a rockin night fer sure.

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I surveyed my old stompin grounds. A bar that I frequented almost every night when I’d lived there years ago. There was a lone woman sittin on a barstool in front of a mic. Strummin her guitar and singing her heart out.

 

She was fuckin gorgeous too. 
 

Not yer typical blonde bimbo with fake tits the industry usually cranks out. This woman was something related to Latin heritage. I didn’t think she was full blown Latina, her hair was dark, but dark brown, not the blackness of night like most Latin women I’d known.

 

I quickly caught myself fallin fast and hard for this Honky Tonk Angel. Not something I was used to doin. Not feelings I was used ta feelin, or dealing with either.

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I was struttin into uncharted territory y’all.

 

I grabbed a beer from the bartender, both of us exchanging smiles as the transaction occurred. Then I took my old, usual spot at a two top table near the stage. It was up against the far wall. That way nobody could get too close to me.

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I began to sip my beer and engross myself in the angel on stage.

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I was also enjoying her music too.

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In about thirty minutes, it was changin time there on Broadway in Nashville Tennessee. It happens every three hours y’all. Performers frantically packin up their gear to scurry onto a different honky tonk. Some of em meetin up with different musicians. And some of em takin the stage solo. 

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Just like this honky tonk angel I’d been watchin.

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But this honky tonk angel. She wasn’t scurrying at all. She was takin her time packin up her guitar, enjoying fun conversation with some of her audience that'd been watchin and listenin. All of em exchangin casual, but real genuine smiles.

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I couldn’t help myself y’all. As I saw the last conversation she was having beginnin ta end. I walked up to her.

 

And I forced that conversation to end.

 

“You got one helluva voice their sweetheart” is how I interrupted and began our new conversation. One I made very clear to the others surroundin her was between us, and us alone.

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“Sweetheart? Is that all you got sailor?”

 

Hot damn! She’s got amazin talent AND spirit ta boot!

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Maybe she’s a full blooded Latina after all.

“I figured I’d save the good shit for later” I smiled back.

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“You’re awfully presumptuous ain’t ya?”

 

I’d finally learned not to fuck around y’all. After 45 years of life. I finally knew that bein direct is the only way to live life.

 

“Can I buy ya a drink, or are you heading to your next gig?” I asked her.

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“I don’t drink, and my next gig is with my pooch at home.”

 

I couldn’t believe it. Such a gorgeous and extremely talented honky tonk angel like her wasn’t booked on a Friday night? What was this world comin to y’all?

 

“How bout dinner at a Waffle House?” I was sorta pleadin with her at this point. Somethin I wasn't used to doin in my life. But somethin told me I needed to. It was a feelin that was rumblin in mah belly y’all.

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“Boy stranger, you just don’t quit. What if I say no?” 

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There’s that attitude again. 

 

And I love every minute of it!
 

“Then you’d be breakin a cowboy’s heart darlin. Just dinner, I swear. I don’t play that one night stand game. Besides, I’m here on business of my own.” I tried my best to demonstrate how sincere my words were in how I was deliverin em.
 

“You seem harmless enough. I’ll meet ya there.” She looked at me with a little suspicious side eye as she made her comment, closin her guitar case.

 

“I’ll be waitin with bells on sweetheart” Jesus H. Christ. Did I just fuckin say that?

 

Now her side eye wasn’t to the side anymore. She was dartin those gorgeous eyes of hers right at me. “There you go with that sweetheart bullshit again. My name is CC. What’s your’s?” She was rough around the edges for sure. Just like me.

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“It’s a pleasure CC. I’m John Walker” 

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“John Walker huh? Most guys just tell me their first name. What’s with this last name shit? I ain't marryin ya.”
 

Hot damn! I’ve got a live one on the line!
 

“I’m on my way to bein a star CC. And nobody calls a star by their first name only.”
 

“Oh. You’re one of those.” She said with an eye roll as she started to blow past me, makin a bee line fer the door. 

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I stood in front of her, my body blockin her exit. 

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She glared up at me as we stood there, our bodies almost so close they were touchin.

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“Just so you know, pretending to be in a band ain’t gonna open these pretty legs… sweetheart” She really put an angry emphasis on that sweetheart part. I think this Honky Tonk Angel has had some bad experiences. It’s unfortunately part of this bullshit game called the music industry.

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“My goals are in gettin success fer my band ma’am” I said this with less bravado in my voice this time. Showin a little more respect to her now. 

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“Not in havin wild orgasms with lots of pretty women… such as yerself. Pretending to be in a band sure does seem to open a lotta legs, I’ll definitely grant ya that. But pretnedin ain’t never opened a goddamn door for anyone.” There was a clear and somewhat angry determination in my voice now.

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With my last statement, she looked me in the eyes for a second or two. And then CC said this to me as she brushed past me. 
 

“You got a car?”

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“I sure do. A pick up actually”

 

She stopped and looked back at me just before crossin the threshold. Her glare made it very clear to me she wasn’t one who cared about specifics in such matters.
 

“Meet me at the Waffle House near the off ramp there on Interstate 40. The one near the Route 155 interchange. You got one shot cowboy. You ain’t there in 30 minutes, that chance is blown.”
 

The way she said cowboy let me know she was serious. About me haivn a chance. And about me only havin this one. So I knew I had to make it there in 20 minutes, just to make sure. Hell speed limits er for cowards anyway.