Unconditional

“You.” Garrett grips my hands, his face bright with enthusiasm. “You can sing.”

I shrink back, my heart lurching. “No.” I shake my head. “No way. I can’t.”

“You can!” Garrett urges. “You were amazing, singing for me that night.”

“But that was different, it was you.” I gaze at him, beseeching. “I’ve never played for an audience before, I wouldn’t even know how.”

“You don’t have to be fancy, you said it yourself.” Garrett tugs me towards the bar. “Just sing like you did for me, they’ll love you.”

“No!” I cry, yanking him to a stop. “You don’t understand,” I gulp, “I can’t. Just the thought of getting up there, having everyone stare at me…” My pulse kicks with panic, my heart racing in my chest. “I’m no good. Please, Garrett…”

“You are good. You’re incredible, Carina, you don’t even realize.” Garrett steps closer, cupping my cheek. “Listen, if you really can’t, I won’t force you. But think about it: are you saying no because you don’t want to, or because you’re scared to show them all this part of you?”

I stare back, my mind blank.

“I know it’s hard,” he adds, giving me that quiet smile. “But it’s OK to let them in and show them your vulnerable side, too. I believe in you; I know you can rock this, if you only give yourself the chance.”

My stomach lurches. He’s right. I’ve never been brave enough to share my music because it’s a part of me I’ve kept locked away for so long. My father called it silly and sentimental, so I made sure nobody would ever see that weakness.

But it’s not weakness, and I’m done with hiding my true self anymore.

“There’s no piano,” I say weakly, my mind racing.

Garrett suddenly straightens up. “Wait here,” he says, disappearing into the office. I sag back against the wall, wondering if I should turn around and run like hell. But before I can make a decision, Garrett emerges from the office with a beat-up old guitar.

“You said you played guitar too. It’s been kicking around in there forever, but it’ll do the trick.”

I gulp, taking the instrument. I pluck a couple of chords, testing the tuning. It’s old, but a classic. A couple of twists of the turning dials and I’d be good to go.

My final excuse is gone.

“I know what I said, but Garrett…” I try to make him see. “This is different from just messing around alone, this is for real. They’re expecting a real performer. What if they hate me?” I demand. “What if I’m laughed offstage? What if they trash the place!?”

“Hey,” he says while he steps closer, taking me in his arms, “you can do this. And if anyone hurls a beer bottle at you, they’ll have to go through me first.”

He smiles at me, tender and reassuring, and despite all my panic, I feel a tiny ray of hope in my chest.

He believes in me. He’s heard me sing, in the privacy of that late-night living room, and he still thinks I can really do this.

A reckless pulse of adrenaline shoots through me. “OK,” I answer. “I’ll do it.”

Garrett lets out a burst of laughter and sweeps me into his arms. “You’re going to kill it,” he cries, spinning me around.

I cling to him, dizzy, even when he sets me down. “I’ll go introduce you,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me after him, out into the bar and to the side of the makeshift stage area. He leaves me and bounds into the empty space, letting out a piercing whistle for attention.

As the bar falls silent, Brit appears at my side. “Did your guy arrive?” she asks, looking around.

“No,” I gulp, clutching the guitar. “I’m going on instead.”

“You?” Brit turns to me, her lip curling in a sneer of disbelief.

Her cynical reaction cuts right through me. Oh God, she’s right, I realize with a panicked burst of nerves. This is crazy!

“Hey everyone,” Garrett speaks up over the hum of chatter in the packed bar. “It’s time to get the show going tonight!” There are cheers and whooping from the crowd, but he gestures for silence again. “Now, you all know this is a new thing for us here at Jimmy’s, getting some live music to start your weekend right. I would be happy just slinging beers and burgers, but a smart lady talked me into throwing this shindig.” He flashes a smile at me over where I’m standing. “So, I guess it’s only fitting that she’s our first performer tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together and give a warm Beachwood Bay welcome to Carina McKenzie!”

There’s a smattering of applause. Garrett gestures for me to come out, but my body freezes.

“I can’t do this,” I murmur, terrified. “I’ve never sung in front of anyone in my life!”

Brit looks at me as if she expected this all along. “Fine,” she says, “quit. Leave Garrett stranded, if that’s what you really want.”

“Of course it isn’t!” I give her a panicked look, but she just folds her arms and fixes me with an even stare.

“I don’t know what your deal is with him,” she says quietly, moving closer. “But he’s my best friend. And he needs you right now.” She gestures around the room—at the hundred people all here to see someone perform. Garrett is coming through the crowd for me now, looking relieved.