This is my entry in the
A Song from My Story, a Story for My Song
challenge. It's inspired by Bruce Springsteen's "Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)."
I'd like to thank my editor, Newell Post, any remaining errors are mine.
Rosalita's father never liked me because I played in a rock-and-roll band.
I don't know why he was such a jerk about it; it's not like I didn't have a good job. I just loved music, and I was pretty damn good at it, if I do say so myself. I didn't have to though, the number of fans at the gigs I played spoke for themselves.
There were times that I almost wanted to walk away, but I was in love. Of course, the fact that she was hot as a firecracker didn't hurt.
We had a date for my gig that Friday night. That morning my phone rang. It was Rosalita.
"Bobby," she said, crying, "I can't go."
"What do you mean you can't go? Are you sick?"
"No, it's my dad. He's closed me in my room; he says it's time I found a man with a real future."
I was seeing red now. What did he think, that this was the Middle Ages? Rosie was 18, she didn't need her father's permission to date anyone.
Some guys would have snuck around to the back of the house, helped her out the window, but that was never my style.
I put my guitar on the back seat and laid rubber with the radio blasting. I skidded to a stop right in front of her house and got out of the car. I didn't even bother turning it off or turning down the radio, and her father came out onto the porch, letting the screen door slam behind him.
"What are you doing here?" he said. "I thought I told you I didn't want you bothering Rosalita anymore."
"I'm here to take her to my gig. Why don't we ask her if I'm bothering her?"
"I'm her father, it's my job to look after her."
At that moment, the door opened and Rosalita slipped out, moved behind me and grabbed my hand.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure she's safe," I said, as I led her from her front porch to my front seat.
I got behind the wheel and in a concession to her old man, I didn't burn any rubber while Rosie looked back at her father. I pulled her close and gave her a quick kiss.
"Don't worry, Babe, it'll be okay. Someday we'll look back on this and it will all seem funny."
"But he's so mad, and my Mama was crying."
"They may be tears of joy pretty soon. I heard a rumor that there might be someone from a record company there tonight."
"Really? What does that mean?"
"Well, if they think I'm any good, they might try to sign me to a contract."
"'Try?' Why would they have to try? Why wouldn't you sign? That's been your dream like forever!"
"It has to be the right deal. I've seen too many artists sign deals where the record company makes all the money and the artists get peanuts."
"Well, you're so smart, Bobby, I'm sure you'll make the right decision."
"Heh, your Daddy would say if I'm so smart, why didn't I finish High School?"
"Oh, Bobby, you were just bored, you could have finished if you'd wanted to."
At that point we pulled up behind the club and I had to get ready for the sound check.
I grabbed my guitar case, wrapped my arm around Rosie's waist and walked in the back door, nodding to the barback, not a bit jealous of the way he looked Rosie up and down. What's the fun of having a hot babe if nobody notices her, right?
Rosie headed up to the bar to get herself a drink. She wasn't "legal," but the bartender just pretended it was for me, as long as it was just the one. Nothing for me, only water when I'm playing.
The rest of the band was there getting set up. We were lucky. The bar had a good sound system; they even had a sound guy, so all we had to do was plug in, tune up and play.
We'd played this place before and the sound guy knew us, so we only had to make some tweaks to the mix and we were ready to rock and roll.
Rosie was already sitting at a front row table off to the side, and I went to join her.
"You nervous, Baby?" she asked.
"Not as much as I would have thought. The band's tight, we've got some good covers and some original stuff. All we can do is play and have a good time. If the guy's here and likes us, that's great; if not, it's not the end of the world."
"Well, they'll be crazy not to sign you. If they don't, they'll be kicking themselves in the ass when you're the next big superstar!"
"As long as I'm your superstar, Rosie, that's good enough for me," I said as I swung her around and gave her a big kiss.
"Put me down, you big doofus, I think the guys are waiting for you."
I looked over my shoulder at the band. They were all just standing there with shit-eating grins on their faces.
"What's the matter? You guys have nothing better to do?"
"Nope," said Jake, my sax player, "just waiting on you."
"Fame and fortune awaits, my love," I said as I got up on the stage and went over the set list with the band.
Soon the place filled up, and it was time to go on. I scanned the crowd, spotting a few of our regulars while looking to see if I could find any suits, but I saw nothing. I guessed that the rumors weren't true.
We opened with a couple of covers to get the crowd comfortable, then eased into some of our more popular originals. When we had them primed we started to really jam, and the joint was jumping.
Rosie was singing along with us, and her smile was like a spotlight. We were really on, and I hated to stop, but it was time for a break. We promised to be back soon.
The bar owner was happy because people bought more drinks during the breaks, and I went to help Rosie at our merchandise table. It felt a little odd signing autographs on our self-produced CD's, but hey, maybe they'll be valuable souvenirs someday.