A Piece of Your Heart

It was that time of night.

In the bar where I worked as a waitress in the evenings, there was a live band every night for the customers to enjoy. I became one of the performers after asking my boss to let me join the band at least on weekends.

He was kind enough to listen to my performance and then gave me his approval. He was impressed by my voice and allowed me to perform on weekends while continuing my job as a waitress on weekdays. I had never felt more elated.

Working three part-time jobs, I could hardly exercise my creativity. My sketch pads remained empty in my drawers, and the ink in my pens had probably dried up by now.

Sometimes I still composed songs, but only when I had a burst of inspiration. Whenever it came, I had to jot down the notes as fast as I could before they disappeared from my mind. I would strum my guitar quietly at night, careful not to wake my neighbors who were still asleep.

Since I hardly wrote any songs anymore, and I was reluctant to use the songs I had composed a few years ago, I would only come on stage and perform covers of songs that already existed. I didn’t mind because I loved to sing. Not only that, but the audience always listened to me whenever I performed, which made me feel very validated.

So I always looked forward to those nights on the weekends when I could do the things I loved to do.

“Hey, Julie. Looks like that man is here again.”

I turned to my co-worker, Madison, who winked at me as she silently gestured to the guy who was sitting at the bar, ordering a drink. He was dressed in his usual outfit: a casual brown knit sweater with a black trench coat draped over it, and blue faded jeans that looked like they were the only pair he had in his closet.

He wore black glasses that gave him a scholarly look, and his dark hair was tousled in an oddly charming style that made him look a little younger for his age.

It was the same guy who only came to the bar on weekends when I was performing.

I had been working here for about a year. When I started, I was clumsy and awkward at first, being someone who had never been in a place like this before, but the kindness of my boss and co-workers helped me get through it until I finally got the hang of it.

Although there were the inevitable rowdies, there were also pleasant customers who were a pleasure to talk to. There were regulars that I liked, like Mr. Kennedy who had two cute daughters at home, Mr. Johnson who was retired and living his life for now, and also Gracie, an office worker who came here just to have fun.

Having been here for a while, I was able to recognize customers who were regulars as well as those who were infrequent or newcomers. It wasn’t a small bar, but it wasn’t too big either. It was one of the most popular bars on the street, so it was usually crowded during rush hour when everyone was off work.

I didn’t know what made me notice this particular guy out of all the others, but for some reason, he seemed different from everyone else. It didn’t seem like he came here to enjoy himself, but it didn’t seem like he came here to search for a distraction, either.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

It was as if he was only here because he was interested in something.

Not to mention that his fashion style was strangely consistent, which was one of the reasons why he stood out.

“Come to think of it, he’s always present here during the weekends,” Madison remarked with a coy smile on her face. “I’m pretty concerned though. Doesn’t he have any other clothes?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Don’t be silly. I’m sure he has other ones. He likes to order the expensive drinks around here, after all. Maybe he just doesn’t pay attention to fashion or something.”

Madison nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. Feels odd, though. It’s like he’s coming here for something in particular. Or someone,” she added with a cheeky grin.

I laughed. “Sounds romantic.”

“And hey, who knows? He might turn out to be some kind of secret billionaire, right?”

I shook my head as Madison chuckled at the far-fetched thought.

Yeah, right. As if rich men like that had time to come to a place like this. Didn’t they usually go to the most lavish nightclubs in town?

As I was on my way to the backroom to prepare my clothes for the performance, I felt a pair of eyes on me. Like that feeling you get when you think someone was watching you.

It wasn’t that strange to have a stranger looking at you in a bar once in a while. The men’s eyes were usually roaming around the room looking for some eye candy, while the women were searching for a hot guy to lay their eyes on.

As long as they didn’t lay a finger on me or stalk me home, I didn’t mind.

I was curious, so I instinctively turned around to see who it was. As my eyes swept across the bar, no one really caught my eye. Everyone seemed to be focused on either the live band playing, the food, or the companions they came with.

For some reason, my eyes fell on the man Madison had just mentioned.

He was sitting at the bar, sipping his martini and staring blankly at the band. He didn’t seem particularly interested in them, and he wasn’t searching around for any gorgeous women nearby, either.

I wondered for a moment what he was here for. Maybe to get drunk and distracted?

But Madison, who worked near the bar, once told her that she had never seen the man get drunk before. She probably hoped to get some gossip out of his drunken rants or something.

Wait a minute, why was I even interested in him?

I shook my head slightly and continued on my way to the back room. The man could wait for now. I needed to tune my guitar properly first and review the three songs I was going to sing on stage thirty minutes from now.

Madison was right.

People were interesting to observe every now and then.

***

Soon enough, it was my turn.

I sat in the chair overlooking the crowd and felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I could see Gracie and Mr. Johnson giving me encouraging smiles and waving at me from their respective seats, which made me feel a little more relaxed.

Even though I had been doing this for a while, I still felt a little nervous whenever I was about to perform on stage. Luckily, with the nervousness came the excitement. There was just something about singing that made me feel fulfilled and at ease, like I was giving myself a piece of freedom that I desperately needed in my life.

When the music played, my voice just came out of my lips like it was second nature. It was as if I was a part of the song itself, and I could feel the emotions of the lyrics as I sang.

I had practiced this hundreds of times. I had hummed these songs at work and played them over and over in my head. I no longer needed to remember the lyrics or even match them to the melody or beat.

All I had to do was sing to my heart’s content.

When my series of performances ended, I felt liberated. The feeling was so exhilarating and exciting that it made me smile when the people in the bar clapped generously for me. They looked like they enjoyed it, which made me feel happy, too.

But then I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Something a little surprising.

It was that man.

The man with the brown knit sweater and the black trench coat.

He was looking right at me, smiling and clapping his hands softly.

The moment our eyes met, it was as if something inside me was stirred.

Suddenly he looked so… familiar.

Who… was he?

Where had I seen him before?