Written and Performed by

Cody chewed on the end of his pen thoughtfully as he looked at the page in front of him. He just needed one more line, and he needed it to be good. That was easier said than done. Eventually he wrote down:

The memories have faded,

and lord knows I’m jaded,

but girl I’m lying if I say I don’t love you.

Yeah. Yeah, good. Good enough, at least. He placed the pen into the small notebook he was writing in and shut it gently. Carefully he rebound it in the leather strip he had attached to the spine and placed it in the drawer of his desk. He looked out the window of his little room and watched the ocean in the evening light. Gold flashed into peaks of white on the bouncing waves before sinking below other waves that were freshly formed. Things were gonna go well tonight, Cody could feel it. “Tonight” felt far away, but Cody realized he had probably spent more time writing than he had thought. He glanced towards the clock above his bed and saw that it said half past six. Oh shit. Thirty minutes until show time.

Cody jumped up from his chair and began quickly looking around his room. No time for a change of clothes, no time to comb his long hair. He ran towards his closet and grabbed his guitar case from the back corner. He slapped his hand to his forehead and began thinking of the things he knew would regret later if he forgot. Cody zipped back and forth around his room until he heard a firm knock on his door. He opened it quickly and saw the activities director, Kimberly, looking quite worried.

“Hey, do you know-”

“Yeah, I just saw. I’m getting ready now,” Cody said quickly, cutting her off. He realized he was being rude and stopped to let her speak.

“Pretty much everything is already set up,” Kimberly said. “Just take what you need and get over there. Now. Your sound checks take a while.”

Kimberly gave him one more look up and down then walked off to attend to some other pressing matter. Cody let out a deep sigh and stepped out of his door. He let the heavy door shut behind him with a thud and walked down the deck towards the venue for the night. Along the way he received a few smiles and a few greetings from some of the guests who recognized him. He smiled and nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He did not notice the dirty looks from the crewmates that he passed by either, which was something that usually bothered him.

Cody was a musician on the Klagande Kunglig, a ship under the umbrella of the Star Cruise Line Corporation. He played four nights a week, two of which as part of a larger show involving several other artists and bands, and two nights a week as the main act. Tonight was one of the nights where he was the main act, and if he did not hurry up he was going to be late.

Cody passed by another crew member chaperoning children in a kids pool. He turned to look at Cody then pointedly looked away. Artists got paid like crew members, but other than his performances, Cody was free to do as he pleased on the ship. He was just like another guest for the most part, which seemed to ruffle some feathers. Cody did not mind. They were not his audience anyway.

When he reached the event hall Cody quickly ducked through a service door and up a set of stairs towards the backstage. When he reached the curtains he saw the sound engineer looking impatiently at his watch.

“Hey, sorry,” Cody said as he set his guitar case down.

“Save it, just get unpacked. We have about 10 minutes to get you set up and ready to go.”

With that the engineer walked off to his computer. It was surrounded by a mess of wires that snaked along the floor and up the walls, eventually disappearing into speakers aimed towards the audience. Cody unpacked his guitar and plugged it into a small brick sitting on the floor. The engineer clicked decisively on his computer, then looked at Cody. Cody plucked a few strings then strummed some cords out. The engineer made a few adjustments then clicked once more. Cody played some more, now able to hear it from a small amp set up beside the engineer.

“I think we are good,” Cody said.

“Good, then get your ass on that stool and wait for the curtains.”

Cody gave the engineer a thumbs up that turned into a middle finger as he turned away. He walked towards the stool that was set up center stage and picked up the water bottle sitting on it. He gave it a quick twist to see if it was already open. He took a few small swigs, then sat down and spent the last few minutes getting into his zone.

When the curtains did rise Cody was greeted with enthusiastic cheers. He was pretty well known by now and he enjoyed the attention it gave him. He greeted the audience with a well rehearsed good evening before starting his first song.

He had them, and he had them good. Cody carefully groomed his image to present as a quiet moody blues rocker. His voice was carefully trained to match that image, and the audience ate it up. His set went perfectly. Cody was hitting all the notes he needed to, and the audience was giving him great feedback. His banter was getting laughs and Cody was feeling pretty chuffed about the whole thing. At the two hour mark Cody decided to finish it off.

For the first time the whole night Cody felt nervous. It was his first time playing a song that he wrote. It did not help his nerves that he had just finished writing it a half hour before the show.

Cody took a deep breath and started. It had gotten too quiet and now he was feeling the pressure. He knew the next few moments would make or break the whole thing.

When his voice sprung out of his throat Cody knew that things would go well. He sang a bitter sweet love song that worked the crowd like magic. Couples looked at each other longingly, people with no one to turn to seemed to gravitate toward each other. When Cody finished, he was showered with applause. After several bows he finally called it a night and walked off stage. He felt like he was floating as he packed his guitar and headed back to his room. That glow stayed right with him until he saw Kimberly standing outside his room.

“What’s up,” Cody asked.

“It’s about your show,” Kimberly said. Cody felt a smug smile forming on his face. “We had a couple of complaints.”

“What,” Cody’s smile immediately fell. “What do you mean by complaints?”

“Exactly what I said. Complaints. People saying it wasn’t a good show.”

Cody laughed in Kimberly’s face, but she did not react at all. She was being serious.

“Are you sure it wasn’t your crew, Kimberly,” he said accusingly, “I know they seem to be the only people I can’t get through to.”

“Just do better next time.” Kimberly said. Then she walked away.

“Yeah, whatever,” Cody mumbled. He slammed the door behind him as he entered his room. Some of the glow had faded from that conversation, but Cody would not let that kill his night. He immediately grabbed his book from the desk drawer and started writing another song.

*

Cody sat backstage strumming the dead strings of his guitar as he listened to someone else’s act out on stage. Tonight he was a small part of a larger show. He did not enjoy it, but he had no other recourse. No one on this damn crew seemed to understand how talent was supposed to be presented, and who it should be presented along with. Cody certainly should not be the follow up act to old Cowboy Clarence out there. Whatever, who cared.

Tonight he had another fresh song to play. Kimberly had told him to sing something “happy” to the crowd. Cody scoffed at her at first, but she did not give any indication of backing down. She was the boss, and could have Cody shit-canned in a moment if she chose that route. So, Cody heavily revised the song he had been writing to be something that would make the crowd feel good. Kimberly’s power over him annoyed Cody quite a bit, but he consoled himself with thoughts of another perfect set. He could evoke any mood. He could play anything. He was just that good.

When Cody stepped out on stage he heard some sparse applause from the crowd. Cowboy Clarence must have done a bad job warming them up. Cody said a quick greeting and then went straight into his playlist. His music was decidedly softer than what he usually went for, but when he looked at the crowd, he saw smiles. The change of pace might have been unexpected, but it seemed to be welcomed. Cody relaxed a bit at this realization and kept the set going smoothly. When he had reached the end of his half hour he spoke to the crowd.

“I have one more song for you, something different from what I would usually write, but I think you will like it.”

Then Cody sang. He sang about clear streams and swaying trees. He sang about a long road back home and the feeling of dirt under the feet of a homesick man. He sang about the feeling that man has when he sees home in the distance. That good feeling. Cody felt good singing it. It felt right to him. Shit, maybe he would have to shift genres slightly. Maybe just keep it to a song or two, he was not ready for change yet.

When Cody finished he closed his eyes as the last chord faded. It was very quiet. He had never moved an audience quite like that before. He had never brought them to such an ethereal silence. When Cody looked up he realized he had been completely mistaken. Blank and angry faces greeted him. It was not the silence of an awestruck crowd, it was the lack of applause from a disappointed throng. Cody looked out at the crowd in utter confusion. What did he do wrong? He saw people starting to shift in their seats and look around. The longer he sat there the worse things were going to get. Cody mumbled something quick into the microphone and quickly shuffled off stage.

He did not look at anyone as he left, and when he was out of sight Cody broke out into a run. He refused to look at anything but the floor in front of him. When he reached his room again he saw a similar pair of heels blocking his path. Kimberly again. Cody did not want to look at her either.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you.”

Cody could not let out much more than a small grunt.

“I think I was a little too harsh on you last time, you did great out there tonight.”

“What,” was all Cody could manage. He was on the verge of tears.

“Oh, jeez. What’s wrong with you?”

“What do you mean I did great out there?”

“Exactly what I said…?” Kimberly raised an eyebrow. “Was it not up to your own standards, or something?”

“They hated me out there, I mean there wasn’t even pity applause,” Cody said as he put his face in his hands.

“Yeah…I’m not sure what that was all about. You sang a happy song and they seemed happy as they left. I’d call that a win whether or not you got roaring applause. Besides, they only got quiet after that last song. Maybe they were just moved.”

Cody was shaking now. Kimberly was not sure what else to say. She wished him a good night and told him to get some sleep. Cody stepped into his room and let the guitar case fall from his hands. He fell face down onto his bed and slowly writhed around on the blanket. Someone was lying. Someone was lying to him. He wanted to find them and scream at them. There was no mistaking the looks on the faces of the audience. They hated what they heard.

He turned over onto his back after his fit was done and looked slowly around his room. His eyes stopped on his desk. Cody felt like writing another song.

Money

Yes, I need Money…

*

Cody sat on stage sweating. The crowd looked alien to him, like people wearing fake faces. No one seemed to remember having sent Cody running offstage the last time with their hostile silence. Everyone seemed happy to see him. Cody was terrified.

“Hey folks, usually I save my self-written songs for last, but I thought I’d start this show off with something I wrote first. I uh- I hope you like it.”

Then Cody started to play a pretty poorly written song. The riff was borrowed from a recent radio hit and the lyrics were a blatant rip off of an older blues song dealing with the same subject matter. Anyone who did not notice those flaws would still be disappointed, because it sounded terrible to the ear as well. Cody’s guitar was not tuned at all.

He played for a minute with his head down looking only at his own hands. It was at about a minute in when he felt something soft bounce off the top of his head. Then he heard the crowd. Cody was getting booed by several people in the audience. He looked up and saw a dozen or more people standing up in the crowd reaching into their pockets. Then Cody glanced down at the stage and saw what had been thrown at him: a twenty dollar bill crumpled into a small ball. Cody felt several more pieces of currency hit him as he stood up from the stool. The entire crowd was on their feet now booing him and digging into their pockets. Cody fled the stage when they started to pelt him with loose change.

Cody slammed the door to his room and sprinted to his desk. He ripped open the drawer and pulled out the small leather bound notebook. He opened it to the page where he had just written his newest song. It was still there, written just as he had left it. A terrible song about how much Cody wanted money, how he wanted it to rain down on him from the sky. Cody closed the notebook and inspected the cover. Then he opened it back up and flipped through every page, looking for something he had never noticed before. There was nothing there, it was a plain notebook he had bought at an office supply store.

Cody continued to inspect the book for several more minutes. When he had given up, he sat there with it in his trembling hands. He could do or be just about anything with this book and a pen. He just could never be a successful musician.