Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story

“Hope so.”

Jimmy was forced to excuse himself, as a waitress called his attention to the other end of the bar, leaving Michael alone.  Suddenly, the soft strumming of an acoustic guitar interrupted his thoughts and he casually glanced over his shoulder toward the tiny stage.  His eyes tried to focus on the young woman sitting solo on a stool, center stage, but the lighting was dim.  She appeared to be in her late twenties, skinny to the point of being unhealthy, with one long blond braid hanging lifeless onto her chest.  Her shirt and floor-length skirt weren’t ironed and completely mismatched.  Her legs were crossed at the knee, and a guitar comfortably resided in her lap.  On one foot she wore a summer sandal with a thick winter sock.  The other foot was encased in a leather boot.

Michael skewed his face and figured the oddity of the woman’s attire was probably normal wear for some of the native musicians.  Her voice was weak and uninteresting, while her guitar playing lacked imagination.  He made a mental note to discuss the bar talent with Jimmy when he came back from the kitchen.

“Sorry about that,” Jimmy apologized to Michael.  “Are you hungry?  Can I get you a burger or something?”

Michael shook his head.  “Hey, how’s the local talent been lately?” he asked, shooting another glance back toward the stage.

“Not bad.  We’ve got a pretty solid line-up of acts we keep rotating every few weeks and the customers seem to be enjoying it,” Jimmy answered, noticing the disgusted look on Michael’s face.

“Where did you find her?”

Jimmy laughed.  “What’s the matter, you don’t approve?”

“She sucks.”

Michael smiled after the words left his mouth.  It wasn’t like him to be so blunt when it concerned another musician’s talent.

Jimmy smirked.  “I’m not sure what her story is.  She never has much to say.  She usually comes in, does her time, then leaves by the back door.  When she isn’t looped on something or drunk, she’s fantastic.  I guess that’s why we keep her in the rotation.  But you never know what you’re going to get from her.  Every gig is different.”

“Is she local?”

“No, she’s an off-islander.  I think she mentioned something about living near Boston at one time.”

“Oh really?”  Michael gave the girl another sideways look.  “What’s her name?”

“Annie Logan.”

Michael nearly fell off the barstool.  “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why?  Don’t tell me you know her?”

“You could say that,” he sighed.  “But the Annie Logan I knew didn’t look anything like that.”

“Well, someone told me she was pretty banged up a few months ago in a car accident.  Maybe that’s why she looks different,” Jimmy offered.

Michael rested his elbows on the bar and rubbed his hands together, trying to decide what to do next.  The situation was obviously worse than he had expected.

“Don’t go away, I’m going to take a short break and I’ll be right back,” Annie announced into the microphone.

Michael watched out of the corner of his eye as Annie hopped off her stool, hobbled to the edge of the stage and secured a lone wooden crutch under her armpit.  A few minutes later, she reached the bar and stopped a few feet from where Michael was perched.  It was agonizing for Michael to see.  Close-up her face was pale with dark circles under each eye.  There was no longer a trace of the woman he had fallen so desperately in love with.  That woman was gone and the empty shell of a stranger was all that remained.

“Hey, Jimmy.  Give me a rum coke and make it heavy on the rum,” her faint voice requested.

Michael’s heart was beating so hard in his chest he thought she might be able to hear it.  He closed his eyes and suddenly wished he hadn’t pursued his search.  Maybe it was better to have left things as they were, he thought.  Then he saw her head begin to turn toward him.  In seconds his anonymity would be gone.  There was no turning back now.

“Hey, Annie, how are you doing?” he asked flatly, as if greeting an old acquaintance, not the love of his life.

His eyes were met with the cold, blank stare of a stranger.  If was like having a serrated knife inserted slowly into his heart.  Then acknowledgment quickly registered on her ashen face.

“You bastard!  You couldn't leave things the way they were could you?  Was it that important to find me?” she hissed through clenched teeth and headed for the back door.

Michael’s eyes settled back onto the puzzled gaze of Jimmy and he shrugged his shoulders.  “Is she staying out back?” Michael asked, referring to the cottages for rent behind the building.

“Yeah.  Cottage number three - and I didn’t tell you that.”

Michael nodded and stepped off the stool.  “Thanks,” he said, and tossed some money onto the top of the bar.  “I’ll stop back in before I leave.”

Annie hadn’t managed to get too far up the road toward the cottages when Michael finally got outside.  Part of him actually considered getting into his jeep and driving back to his beach house, forgetting he had seen her.  For several minutes he painfully watched her slender frame slowly maneuvering across the ruts in the road until he could no longer take the sight of it.  Pensively, he came up behind her.  She froze and turned around to face him when she heard the sound of his boots.