Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
It’s so wild. I must be the luckiest girl in the world. That’s how it feels anyway.
“Anyone here like Biscuits and Brandy?” I say into the microphone.
The crowd erupts in front of me. Oh wow. I feel my cheeks getting hot. A lightness in my chest. Energy and adrenaline rush into my veins when the music starts playing.
I didn’t even know anyone knew this song. It’s not one of my singles. It’s just a fun track that I liked, but didn’t think anyone else would. But by the way the crowd is dancing and having an amazing time, you’d swear it was the track of the year.
It’s a hard one to play and I get a little nervous as my part comes up. I clutch onto my guitar, kind of wishing I had taken my mom’s advice to let Sasha play my part instead. I’m a pretty good guitarist, but with all of my nerves ringing me out like the Liberty Bell, I’m a bit shaky.
“You can keep your whiskey,
You can keep your candy,”
Oh my god! They even know the words!
I’m so touched that tears flood my eyes as one hundred thousand people sing the song I wrote in my childhood bedroom back to me. This is the most amazing moment of my life.
“All I need,
Are my biscuits and brandy.”
Everyone erupts in cheers as I play along and keep singing.
This is pure happiness right here. This stage is where I was born to be.
You’re doing good. Just keep at it. Shit, I missed that note. It’s okay. Keep going. The crowd is with you. Have fun. Don’t be nervous.
Just fuck it, suck it, and lame goose duck it. My uncle says that. I don’t know what it means and neither does he, I’m sure.
I take a deep breath as the chorus comes rolling forward.
“Grandma at the table in the farmhouse kitchen,
Gazing out the window, you know she’s missing,
Seeing Grandpa running around he was always so handy.
Crying to old memories with her biscuits and brandy.”
Everyone sings with me. I mean, everyone!
It takes everything I have not to cry. I hope everyone gets a moment like this in their lives. Where everything just comes together and is just so… perfect.
The rest of the show goes by like a dream. I’m in the zone the entire time, feeling one with the music, feeling one with the crowd.
The entire experience since I signed with my record label has been a struggle, but this… This has made it all worth it.
There were arguments over my songs, their order on the album, the album’s title, the cover, even my clothes and hair. They wanted to sculpt every single part of my personality, transforming me into a persona instead of just letting me be myself.
“We want you to take the good girl virgin angle,” the record producer, a slimeball named Sonny, said in a business meeting. “Play it up like you’re an innocent virgin. Pretend that you’re waiting for the right guy to come along. It’s okay to lie.”
I still remember sitting there, shocked and disgusted. I actually was a virgin (and still am). There was nothing to pretend since I was waiting for the right guy to come along—a wise old soul who’d sweep me off my feet in a magical, irresistible love affair. I guessed Sonny just assumed I slept with every guy who crossed my path.
I vowed to myself in that moment that no matter what they thought, said, or threatened me with, I was just going to be myself. They can take it or leave it. But they haven’t said a word since I naturally am kind of the ‘nice sweet girl next door’ type anyway.
I wave to the crowd and smile as they roar and clap, showering me with love and affection. I wish I could go down there and hug each one of them.
“I love you, Tennessee!” I shout and they all erupt again. This is so fun. It’s like I’m a conductor in front of my own orchestra of one hundred thousand people.
I see my manager Karen waving to me from beside the stage. She’s giving me the signal that it’s time to go. Candice and The Crows are coming on next. I really want to see them perform. I’m hoping the crew backstage will let me watch from the side of the stage.
I still can’t believe that I missed Cash Edwards performing. He’s my favorite. I’ve had a crush on him since I was twelve years old.
I still have his posters hanging in my bedroom in my parent’s house and I refuse to take them down. I really hope I get to meet him.
One more wave and then I rush off the stage.
“That was perfect,” Karen says as she takes my guitar. “You’re really coming into your own as a performer.”